“Cut!” the director yelled.
The actor scratched his head. The boom mic operator glanced around nervously.
“You flubbed the bleeding lines again Arthur,” the director yelled and threw a stapled bundle of pages in the air.
The black and white pages flew around the movie set. The film crew hesitated for a moment and then scrambled to pick them up.
The director threw up his hands. “Ok, let’s take a break. I need to clear my head”. He grabbed the cup of coffee held by a intern and took a swig. “Too much sugar again!” he spat and threw the cup at a prop car.
Mr Abrams wanted this film about an early 20th Century revolutionary ahead of schedule. Most of the film had been shot with a veteran actor, but Mr Abrams insisted on getting this teenage heartthrob pop-star to play the younger role. “Its statistics Melvin, the little girl will go nuts for the picture,” Mr Abrams said two weeks ago at his ocean-front mansion.
Director Melvin sighed and walked into the parking lot when he spotted Mr. Abram’s limousine slowly roll in.
“Speak of the devil,” Melvin grinned.
The black car pulled up alongside and the window on the passenger side came down.
Melvin bent double and pretended to smile.
“Mr Abrams. What a pleasant surprise,” Melvin said.
“We have a slight…” he tried to continue but was cut short.
“Get in,” said a curt voice from inside the limo. The door opened.
The director glanced left and right and got in nervously.
“What is it this time?” he thought.
With deep pockets comes a being with a huge level of commitment, that’s how Mr. Abrams built his media empire. Rings Media now spans a quarter of the globe, entertaining millions from films to music to video games.
Melvin got in and sat on the ten thousand dollar leather seats that could be from a hide from an exotic animal.
“It’s ostrich leather. If you are wondering?” the curt voice continued.
Melvin glanced to his right nervously. Mr. Abrams looked regal with his greying hair. The man wore simple suits; navy or obsidian. This time he was wearing khakis and a white polo.
“Nice game huh sir?” Melvin asked.
Mr. Abrams ignored Melvin and the car started rolling.
The car exited the parking lot and cruised through the downtown traffic.
“Melvin. This isn’t about the movie,” Mr. Abrams finally spoke.
Melvin opened his mouth to interrupt but quickly shut up.
“You know the economic situation is just gonna get worse with the wars happening around the world and recession and what not,” Mr. Abrams continued.
The limousine drove past some protestors.
Melvin widened his eyes at Mr. Abrams.
“I just need some of your experts. You’re one of the best directors in the world and I flew you here because of your exceptional team”.
In show business ‘Directed by Melvin’ is a brand that meant car chases, explosions, gunfights and kung fu. The director smirked; he was the man for the job for whatever Mr. Abrams had in store. Melvins started counting the money in his head.
“Now, I know some of your movies are not that good. But those who know, knows that Melvin gets a bang out of that buck,” Mr. Abrams turned his head with a smile.
He leaned in. “You see Melvin. I have big plans; plans that will honestly put the record straight”.
Melvin looked puzzled. Mr. Abrams shook his head and looked into the director’s eyes.
“My friend, have you ever heard of the Reichstag Fire?” Mr. Abrams started.
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