Still at Tom Cruise’s mansion.
Brian Kaye wore a serious expression. "Tommy, I found out—DiCaprio doesn’t know, but Orlando Bloom definitely backed out of the audition because of Martin."
"So Martin really doesn’t think highly of this film?"
Tom Cruise stood up and paced around, clearly agitated.
He might not like Martin, but even he had to admit—the guy had a damn good eye.
Every film Martin backed had been a success.
So what about the ones he didn’t believe in?
Could Kingdom of Heaven fail?
But Ridley Scott was directing it—an acclaimed director known for epic films. Gladiator was proof of that.
Ridley Scott had flopped before.
Take Blade Runner, for example. Critics loved it, but it bombed at the box office.
The more Tom thought about it, the more unsettled he became. He couldn’t make a decision.
He stopped pacing and turned to Brian. "Do we know why Martin doesn’t project? Is it the script, the director, or something else?"
"Uh... I couldn’t find that out."
"That kind of information isn’t easy to get."
Brian quickly raised his hands in surrender. "Fine, fine. I’ll go ask around."
As he walked out, he grumbled to himself—If you hadn’t ruined your relationship with Martin, this wouldn’t be such a hassle.
Brian left, but Tom still couldn’t focus. He pulled out the Kingdom of Heaven script and started reading.
A few pages in, his frustration boiled over.
His dyslexia had improved, but reading still wasn’t enjoyable.
"Damn it!" He flung the thick script onto the table. "Maria! Maria, come read this to me!"
Maria, his housekeeper and part-time reading assistant, rushed over.
Tom paid her double—one salary for housekeeping, another for reading to him.
The reading session lasted from noon till evening.
Still, no word from Brian.
On the Brokeback Mountain set.
Leonardo smirked at Martin. "Dude, word’s out that you don’t think Kingdom of Heaven will do well. I heard Fox is panicking and reviewing the script again."
"It’s too late," Martin shook his head. "Contracts are signed, money’s spent. Their only option now is to rewrite the script completely."
"So you think it can still be saved?"
"No idea. You wanna bet on it?"
"Uh... yeah, no thanks."
Screenwriter William Monahan scowled. "This is ridiculous. Just because of some unverified rumor, we’re supposed to change the script? My script is fine as it is."
A studio executive chimed in, "We called DiCaprio and Orlando’s agents. They both said they withdrew for personal reasons. We even asked Martin’s agent, Jeff Raymond—he denied that Martin ever said he didn’t like the script."
"So it’s just fake news!" Monahan sighed in relief.
At this point, Martin’s reputation in Hollywood was borderline mystical. If he really didn’t believe in something, even Monahan would start feeling uneasy.
Ridley Scott remained silent.
As a director, he liked the script’s expansive world-building and complex plotlines. Sure, it might be a bit dense for audiences, but it gave him plenty of creative freedom.
Scott had a strong personal style—he focused on artistic vision over audience appeal. That’s why his box office results were so unpredictable.
With a commercially solid script (Alien, Gladiator), he could deliver a hit.
With an overly ambitious or convoluted one (Blade Runner, Kingdom of Heaven), he’d flop.
"But what if the rumor is true?" someone else said. "Martin’s influence is huge, and Orlando and DiCaprio both quitting isn’t a coincidence."
Monahan’s face darkened. "If we have to rewrite the whole script over every little rumor, then what’s the point? Look, I can tighten it up a bit, but I’m not doing a full overhaul."
After the meeting, Fox decided to let Monahan trim the script slightly but not make drastic changes.
Back on the Brokeback Mountain set.
With no more outside distractions, Leonardo fully immersed himself in filming, and the shoot progressed faster.
One evening, after wrapping up for the day, Drew approached Martin.
She didn’t even bother avoiding Leonardo and said, "Babe, James Wan just called. Saw is wrapped and already in rough cut."
She sounded a little skeptical. "They only finished assembling their crew last month, and now they’re already done? Those two Aussies aren’t scamming us, are they?"
Martin chuckled. "They wouldn’t dare. They’ve been working on this project for years—Saw started as a short film. That’s why they could shoot it so quickly."
"Still, if you’re worried, just wait until the rough cut is done and send someone to check it out."
Drew said, "I’ll go myself."
Leonardo, who had been listening, was shocked. "Wait—you invested in a movie by total newcomers? And you gave them full control over editing? You’re not worried?"
Martin grinned. "That guy’s a genius. When the final cut is ready, I’ll organize a screening. You should come—you’ll be blown away."
What kind of person could Martin—a genius himself—actually call a genius?
A few days later, Drew returned to the Brokeback Mountain set looking astonished.
"You were right, Martin. James Wan and Leigh Whannell are geniuses. Even in rough cut, the film is incredible."
"Oh, and get this—they built all 27 sets in just three weeks. James had the production designer construct them all inside a single studio. Every shot was filmed in the same place."
"He’s insanely fast. He barely even pauses while editing—says the entire movie is in his head already. It reminded me of you."
Martin could see it—Drew was genuinely impressed.