With the situation more or less resolved, Matthew followed David toward the audition room. He had just reached the door when Lawrence’s voice cut through the air from behind him.
"Matthew Horner!"
Matthew turned at the sound of his na. Francis was on his feet, his eyes blazing with anger. "What did you do?" he demanded.
Francis’s brows knitted together. Yesterday, Goldsman’s position had been crystal clear. This sudden reversal... he wouldn't believe for a second that Horner wasn’t behind it.
Matthew gave a slight shrug, his tone calm. "It’s simple," he replied. "I told Goldsman that if he didn’t cast Alexandra, I’d walk."
"You..." Francis was montarily speechless.
"Don’t bother telling
it's unfair," Matthew said dismissively. "The reality is, I’m more important to this production than you are."
The words clearly struck a nerve. Lawrence’s voice cracked. "You’re lying!"
Matthew spread his hands. "Am I? Yesterday, after you left, I went to Goldsman. I told him it was either Alexandra Daddario or I was out. He made his choice imdiately."
Francis took a step forward, his tone turning aggressive. "You’re just an actor!"
"I am," Matthew acknowledged. From his tone, Matthew could tell that Francis, like most Hollywood directors, felt a sense of innate superiority over actors. It didn't surprise him; directors occupied a higher rung on the industry ladder. He added, "And normally, a director is far more important to a film than an actor. But not on this film."
With that, he ended the conversation, turned his back on Lawrence, and walked out of the audition room.
****
Francis, of course, didn’t believe Matthew’s explanation. He imdiately went to find Goldsman to confront him about it.
Goldsman was alone in his office. Seeing Francis enter, he asked, "Is sothing wrong?"
Francis was impulsive, but he wasn't reckless. "Goldsman," he began, trying to keep his composure, "I stand by my conviction. Alexandra Daddario is not right for the role of Anna!"
Goldsman simply shook his head. "I’ve made my decision."
Francis’s frown deepened. "Alexandra simply doesn’t et my standards for this film."
"Then change your standards," Goldsman stated bluntly. "I’ll have the script and the character description adjusted to fit her. Alexandra will have no problem playing the part."
"I'm sorry," Francis insisted, "but in that case, I can’t be a part of this project."
Goldsman looked up, his expression sharp. "What did you say?"
Francis’s jaw tightened, his frown hardening.
Goldsman waved a dismissive hand. "It’s already been decided. I’m going to pretend I didn’t just hear that."
But Francis didn't leave. After a few seconds of tense silence, he continued stubbornly, "I can’t direct this film properly with Alexandra Daddario as Anna. She doesn't et my standards, and I won't helm a project under these conditions."
He had been on the film for nearly two months, having joined the production back in March, and he considered himself an essential part of the project.
Goldsman went still at his words.
After a mont of consideration, he asked, "So, if I insist on casting Daddario, you’re prepared to walk away from the film?"
Lawrence nodded. "When I signed my contract, we included an exit clause."
Goldsman rembered it well. He hadn't been entirely sold on Francis as a young director, so he’d added a specific clause to the contract. If creative differences arose, the production could terminate Lawrence for a fee of $500,000. Conversely, Lawrence could also choose to leave, but he would forfeit any paynt, and all work he’d completed on the project would remain the property of the production.
The clause was a safety net, allowing him to dismiss Francis at any point if it beca clear he couldn’t deliver what the film needed.
"Francis," Goldsman said, looking him straight in the eye. "Are you sure about this?"
Francis didn't back down. "I’m sticking to my principles."
If Francis had been indispensable to the production, Goldsman might have compromised.
He wasn't a powerhouse producer like Jerry Bruckheir, but he was still one of the best in Hollywood. He was an Oscar-winning screenwriter, and he had the ego to match.
Just as he had always maintained that Matthew was his first choice for I Am Legend—but not his only one—Goldsman believed that he himself was the one and only indispensable person at the core of this project. He was the writer and producer. Everyone else was replaceable.
"Francis," Goldsman’s voice softened considerably. "Decisions like this should be made with care."
"Nevertheless, this goes against my creative principles." Lawrence thought of Paula, and of the last diocre film that had underperford without a strong lead. He stated without hesitation, "I am voluntarily resigning from my position as director of I Am Legend."
His ssage was clear: he was a director of conviction who was quitting, not one who was being fired. There was a world of difference between the two.
Goldsman frowned. This wasn’t the outco he’d wanted, but he saw no point in arguing further.
He could get this project made without Horner, without Francis Lawrence, and even without Warner Bros. as the producer and distributor.
The only person who was truly essential to this project was him.
Looking at Lawrence, Goldsman couldn’t help but think of Matthew. The director was clearly more stubborn and principled than the actor.
Of course, Matthew also understood the value of compromise, which made him the smarter of the two.
Goldsman gave a slight nod. "Fine. I’ll notify the legal departnt and have them arrange the contract termination with your agent."
Without another word, Lawrence turned and walked out of Goldsman's office.
Goldsman didn't watch him go. His mind was already cycling through a list of directors, considering who could take Lawrence’s place.
As far as I Am Legend was concerned, Lawrence was already ancient history.
The production wouldn't be derailed by the director’s departure. In fact, with all the prep work under his direct control, the project could still move forward without a hitch.
The office door opened again, and David stepped inside. Goldsman looked up at him. "You’re just in ti."
***
Outside the gates of Warner Studios, Francis had just settled into his car when his phone rang. It was Paula.
"Hey, honey," Paula’s voice was bright and cheerful. "Is the cast officially set?"
His expression was grim, though his initial anger had cooled. "It’s confird—" Francis began.
"Great!" Patton cut in. "When do negotiations start? The agency is ready to go."
"I'm sorry, honey," Lawrence said, keeping his voice even. "It wasn't you. They went with Alexandra Daddario."
Paula’s voice on the other end of the line rose to a near shriek. "What?! They cast Daddario?! How could that happen? You told —"
Francis cut her off. "There was a last-minute reversal. Horner sohow forced Goldsman’s hand."
"Didn’t you fight for ?" A note of suspicion crept into her voice.
"Of course I did. I even quit the project over it, for you..."
The other end of the line went dead silent. He added, "We’ll talk more when I see you."
****
News of Francis's departure reached Matthew the following day.
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