I Invest in You

Irene saw that her father had finished carefully reading the storyboard. With a serious expression, she said, "Yes, I want to direct this film myself. It's already played out in my mind thousands upon thousands of times. I know I can make it well."

She wasn't exaggerating. To write the screenplay in full, she had already replayed the film dozens of times in her mind. Every line of dialogue and every plot point was etched deeply into her memory.

"I'm very proud of you for having such ambition." Francis gazed at her, his eyes full of warmth and pride. "Then we'll make it ourselves! I'll invest." He didn't hesitate for long before making his decision.

Irene jumped up with delight and threw her arms around her father. "Really, Dad? You're really willing to put up the money? But didn't you always say not to use your own money to make movies?"

Francis smiled and patted his daughter on the shoulder, signaling for her to calm down. The best way to encourage a director was to invest in her film.

"I'm not just a director. I'm an investor, too. Your screenplay clearly has the potential to make money, so why shouldn't I get involved? Who would turn down a chance to earn a profit?" His tone was gentle, but his reasoning was businesslike. "Make a few more copies of the screenplay. I'll need to take them back to the company for a project evaluation. As much as I believe in you, inviting such a young newcomer to direct still carries considerable risk."

That night, Irene couldn't sleep.

Her nerves kept buzzing with excitement. She was already imagining herself "punching Spielberg and kicking Lucas," and endlessly planning what she'd do next.

But the next day, her father brought her back down to earth a little.

"There's never been a female director your age—not just in Hollywood, but anywhere in the world. Whatever the final result, this film is bound to stir up controversy... sweetheart, have you thought about how you'll face it?" Francis asked gravely.

Irene wasn't too worried. "Dad, no matter how old I am when I start making films or what kind of films I make, people will always talk and argue, just because I'm your daughter. From the moment I was born, I was destined to be 'extraordinary,' wasn't I?"

Francis suddenly wondered if perhaps he was getting old. When he was young, he'd charged ahead with the same fearlessness. Now, he couldn't help worrying about every possible outcome.

"You're right. But your top priority right now is to enjoy being a freshman."

"I've already asked Orphy to find me a place near campus. If I'm really going to make a movie, it'll definitely be more convenient to live off campus." Now she had a perfectly good reason not to live in the dorms.

"I'll leave that to you. Orphy can handle it."

"Dad, how much are you planning to invest?" Irene asked curiously. She'd spent quite a while picking her sister's brain and had a rough estimate: making the film well would take at least eight million, assuming they didn't hire any stars.

"I've set aside ten million. That should be enough. Since we're producing it through our own company, we can cut a lot of unnecessary costs. It'd be a different story if we outsourced it to another company."

Ten million! That was two million more than she'd expected. They'd definitely be fine.

"Then... if the film makes money, who gets it?" she asked shamelessly.

"Hahaha, your film's still just a screenplay, and you're already asking the investor for a share of the profits? So confident it won't lose money?"

"Of course! If I don't believe in myself, I should at least believe in your judgment, Dad. If you knew it would lose money, you'd never invest. You'd have thrown me out already!"

"Hahaha, you little rascal!" Francis laughed heartily. "If we lose money, that's on me. If we make a profit after recouping the costs, I'll take twenty percent, and the rest is yours."

"Deal! We have to put it in the contract!" It wasn't that she didn't trust her father, but the production company didn't belong to him alone. He had shareholders to answer to, too. It was always best to settle these things in advance.

"All right." Francis sensed that the film had a market and probably wouldn't lose money, but he had no idea just how big a hit it would become. So he agreed without a second thought.

After all, making a profit from box office revenue in Hollywood wasn't easy.

In Hollywood, box office revenue was first split with the theater chains, which took as much as fifty percent. The distributor also took a fee of ten to forty percent, including promotional costs.

After that came staff wages, insurance, and other expenses. In the end, the production company might see only around twenty percent of the box office take.

In other words, a film with a ten-million-dollar budget needed to gross at least fifty million just to have a chance of turning a profit. Even for an experienced director, that kind of return was no easy feat—let alone for an underage, first-time female director. It was practically an impossible task.

Some might ask: if it's so hard to make a profit, why invest at all?

The answer was simple: Hollywood films never relied on box office revenue alone. Overseas distribution, television rights, home-video rentals, and merchandise were the real sources of income that drew in investors.

That was exactly the potential Francis saw. As the creator of The Godfather trilogy, no one understood the staggering returns from home-video sales better than he did. Even though he'd stepped away from the front lines, he still received a huge stack of screenplays every day. As long as someone was still watching The Godfather, his name wouldn't be forgotten.

But he kept one thing to himself: he would share only a small portion of the North American box office revenue with Irene, without mentioning the other revenue streams at all. It was also a lesson he wanted to teach his daughter: sometimes, even people closest to you could deceive you.

Although there were countless details to sort out before filming, Francis didn't intend to let Irene get bogged down in them too soon. He was afraid it would stifle her talent.

Worried she'd get bored sitting around at home, he simply had Orphy pack her things early and take her to the apartment they'd rented near USC, so she could get used to college life.

After the initial excitement wore off, Irene gradually settled down and began looking forward to college. She'd missed out on university in her previous life, so naturally she treasured the opportunity all the more this time around.

Besides, her father was personally handling the film, so she had complete faith in him. Before long, she'd handed over all responsibility and settled comfortably into the role of a hands-off producer.

Francis soon got in touch with Shelly Ovitz. As Irene's agent, he had every reason to be involved in the film's production. His connections at CAA were an especially valuable resource, and they had to make good use of them.

As the project gradually took shape, word inevitably got out.

"Have you heard? The youngest daughter of the Coppola family is making a movie, too."

"What? She's not even an adult yet, is she? Coppola's really going too far this time... Getting famous early is one thing, but this is ridiculous. Can she even read a storyboard? Does she know which way to point the camera?"

"Exactly! Isn't his older daughter making movies, too? He's setting his two daughters against each other. What is that family thinking?"

"Oh, this is going to be good! Two sisters going head-to-head—whose side will their father take?"

Rumors like these, and even more outrageous ones, quickly spread like wildfire. Even George Lucas, who was busy shooting, heard about it and called Francis to ask what was going on.

Francis calmly reassured his old friend. Some of the rumors had been deliberately leaked by him to muddy the waters. He didn't want Irene to face criticism before she'd even done anything. If people were going to criticize someone, he'd rather they criticize him.