Principal photography on the two sequels won't start for ages, and the actors aren't needed for pre-production. After the press conference, Matthew and the others went back to their own business. All they had to do was keep their schedules roughly clear, wait for Jerry Bruckheimer's detailed timetable, and then wait for the scripts.
Just like with pirates of the caribbean: the curse of the black pearl—and the still-stuck-on-paper national treasure—the two follow-ups that Jerry Bruckheimer would again produce had no scripts, only a rough idea.
But that's the confidence of an A-list producer. Ordinary producers and writers might run themselves ragged pitching a project, and the studios still ignore them. Jerry Bruckheimer only has to walk in with a concept and a rough plan, and the studio brass pay attention.
After Jerry Bruckheimer finished his brief remarks, the three of them left. Keira Knightley rushed to Los Angeles International Airport to catch her flight back to London, while Matthew and Johnny Depp strolled unhurriedly down the long corridor of Disney's headquarters building.
"Next month, Vanessa and I are moving to France," Johnny Depp said suddenly.
"France?" Matthew knew Vanessa was Depp's wife. "Why so far away? From now on, if I want to grab a drink with you, I'll have to fly across the Atlantic."
Johnny Depp smiled. "It's Vanessa's hometown."
Matthew nodded. "I see."
Frankly, someone like Johnny Depp is genuinely eccentric—often incomprehensible. He can party wildly, yet when it comes to family, he's fiercely devoted.
That's probably the definition of a weirdo.
After leaving the Disney headquarters with Johnny Depp, Matthew said goodbye and they got into their respective cars and drove off.
Inside the Disney building, Jerry Bruckheimer walked into the office of Robert Iger, co-chairman of Walt Disney Pictures.
"Bob…" Jerry Bruckheimer sat on the sofa and asked bluntly, "Can we inject funds into national treasure now?"
Robert Iger sat with him on the sofa. "Not so fast."
Jerry Bruckheimer's long face darkened. "Hasn't the North-American box-office share—and part of the overseas share—from pirates of the caribbean come in?"
"Most of it's been siphoned off by the parent company."
Robert Iger sounded helpless. "You know the group is preparing a massive acquisition; they need oceans of cash."
Before Bruckheimer could respond, he added, "The second overseas revenue installment arrives at the beginning of next month. I guarantee it'll be prioritized for national treasure."
"Second installment?" Bruckheimer was displeased. "How much could that be? It can't plug a fifty-million-dollar hole."
Robert Iger could only say, "If you think that's too small, we'll have to seek outside financing."
Jerry Bruckheimer fell silent. If outside financing were an option, national treasure wouldn't have stalled this long.
"Jerry," Iger continued, "to secure this investment, you'll need to give Disney Pictures at least a treatment and a rough plan. Otherwise, I'll have a hard time pushing it through; the Review Committee might kill the project."
He looked at Bruckheimer. "is the script finished?"
"No." Jerry Bruckheimer kept it short. "The writing team's drafts were all rejected."
That was partly tied to the funding shortfall. Without money, the crew couldn't be assembled, so the script wasn't urgent. And as the man in charge, his own ideas kept shifting: seeing Pirates' box office, he thought a youth-oriented film with a young lead would play better; but listening to the writers, he felt a middle-aged hero with rich life experience might work too.
"You need to lock the script—at the very least, a solid outline!" Iger stressed again. "Only then can the studio fund the production per procedure."
Jerry Bruckheimer hit the key question: "How big is that share?"
Robert Iger recalled. "About thirty million dollars."
"Only thirty million?" Bruckheimer grew even more dissatisfied. "The original budget was a hundred million! You give me thirty, and we're down to eighty—twenty million short!"
"There's nothing I can do." Iger was equally resigned. "Otherwise, wait a bit longer—till the DVD sales revenue comes in…"
Jerry Bruckheimer shook his head at once. "Wait any longer, and the funds my production company has earmarked could run into trouble."
Robert Iger thought for a moment and said, "Then we'll trim the budget. Other areas are hard to cut, but we can always save on actor salaries." He suggested, "Weren't you considering Nicolas Cage? He wants twenty million. Let's look for actors in the under-ten-million bracket. For the female lead and supporting male roles we can cast inexpensive newcomers."
Jerry Bruckheimer didn't reply, weighing Iger's words carefully. The facts were plain: either the project stalled indefinitely, or they adapted.
Robert Iger went on, "I had reservations about using Nicolas Cage in the first place. He just tanked Windtalkers and pushed MGM toward bankruptcy. Risking another big-budget picture on him is too dangerous."
"I know," Bruckheimer answered. "For the lead I'm going younger—better for the teen market."
"Exactly!" Iger said, fully on board. "I support that idea."
Disney Pictures skews young; that aids marketing and the studio has long experience in that space.
A flurry of ideas hit Bruckheimer. "Bob, once the money's in place, make sure it flows to my project. I'll nail down the outline and production plan ASAP."
Robert Iger hesitated, then said, "All right, I'll do my best."
Bruckheimer left Iger's office in a rush, phoning the assistant who oversaw the project and telling him to contact the two writers for an in-person meeting.
Next he called a casting director he worked with regularly, asking him to scout locations and set up a lead actor audition.
Though the crew didn't yet exist and Disney's money hadn't arrived, a producer of Bruckheimer's stature could hold auditions early—just as he had on pirates of the caribbean.
Leaving Disney's headquarters, Bruckheimer headed for Venice in a car, mulling over the male lead. For some reason Matthew Horner came to mind first.
He had seriously considered Horner before; if funding hadn't wobbled he might have locked him in already.
The smash box office of Pirates and the audience love for Will Turner had proved that Matthew Horner clicked with teens. Among actors in their early twenties, his drawing power ranked near the top.
He had already worked with Bruckheimer on black hawk down and Pirates, a diligent, low-maintenance pro who rarely caused headaches.
Young, bankable, good-looking, and drama-free—exactly the kind of actor producers love.
And Horner was only second-tier; barring a rapid leap to the A-list, his quote would stay under ten million once he left the Pirates franchise.
That was more than double the savings compared with the Nicolas Cage salary he'd once eyed.
"Matthew Horner should be a solid choice," Bruckheimer mused. "Still, maybe someone cheaper fits even better?"
With that, he resolved to hold an audition. More names flashed through his mind as he dialed his assistant again. "Follow up on this: next Monday send invitations to Matthew Horner, James Franco, Josh Hartnett—no, forget Hartnett..."
pearl harbor and black hawk down had under-performed; Bruckheimer had lost faith in Hartnett's future. "Also Colin Farrell and Jude Law—have their Agents receive the invite. Label it action-adventure, no details. I want to see who naturally embodies the lead."
After the call, Bruckheimer shifted his focus to national treasure; principal photography on king arthur was almost done.
Time slipped into November. After four months in theaters, pirates of the caribbean: the curse of the black pearl ended its North American run with a final domestic gross of $356.68 million.
As the film left cinemas, Matthew received word from Helen Herman that Angel Talent Agency had received a formal invitation from Jerry Bruckheimer for him to audition as the male lead in an action-adventure project.
The invitation offered no specifics; Bruckheimer's project hadn't been announced and existed only on a few desks. Yet Matthew knew at once: this was the national treasure lead audition.