Marvel: A Lazy-Ass Superman

Chapter 552: Chapter 552: Visiting the Film Set

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”Boss.”

After knocking on the door, the chubby secretary walked straight in.

Henry had never treated his office as some kind of private sanctuary, so he naturally was not annoyed by her behavior. The black woman had long since grown used to doing this.

Patting his cheeks to hide his tired expression, Henry asked,

”What is it?”

Placing a printed report onto the desk, the secretary said,

”Boss, this is the cast list for The Matrix. Unless there are further revisions announced later, this should be the final version.”

Henry immediately looked toward the female lead’s name.

Trinity was played by Carrie-Anne Moss.

The original actress.

At the same time, the secretary continued:

”According to the information we’ve gathered, Charlize Theron should currently be filming The Astronaut’s Wife.”

”Produced by MCP Pictures, written and directed by Rand Ravich, with Johnny Depp as the male lead. It’s a sci-fi thriller. I heard the budget is thirty-four million dollars.”

Rubbing his eyes again in a massaging motion, Henry replied,

”I understand. Thanks.”

Whether the secretary had already left the office or not, Henry turned to his computer and opened IMDb.

The Internet Movie Database, founded in 1990, had recently been acquired by Amazon as an external platform for selling videotapes, VCDs, and DVDs online.

Some movies that had never screened theatrically might not have entries on IMDb.

But anything that had reached theaters—regardless of success or failure—would have its own dedicated page. The same applied to actors.

Looking at Charlize Theron’s actor page, Henry noticed that among her filmography, The Rock—the film where she had played one of the leads, Sean Connery’s daughter, albeit only a minor supporting role—was nowhere to be found.

As for The Devil’s Advocate, her breakout role, there was no need to mention it.

The rest of Charlize Theron’s filmography matched exactly with Henry’s memories from before he transmigrated.

It was almost as though...

Her fate had been forcibly dragged back onto its original trajectory, instead of the life she had shared with him.

Then what about him?

Did she still retain any memories of being together with him?

The more Henry thought about it, the more chaotic his emotions became.

He suddenly shot to his feet.

It was almost time for his ophthalmology appointment.

As he passed the secretary’s office, Henry said,

”Yulian, I’m going to get glasses fitted. If anything comes up, leave it in the memo log. I’ll handle it tomorrow.”

”Understood, boss.”

”Oh, right. Do you know where The Astronaut’s Wife is filming?”

”That’s a New Line release, so it’s probably at one of their studio lots,” the secretary answered uncertainly.

”Please confirm it for me. Then contact me on my mobile phone.”

Henry waved the mobile phone in his hand.

The term ”cell phone” was becoming increasingly common in North America simply because it had fewer syllables. Only Commonwealth countries still stubbornly preferred ”mobile phone.”

After successfully getting his eyes examined at the clinic and ordering glasses at an optical shop, Henry learned that even with rush service, the glasses could not be finished immediately.

So he had no choice but to continue enduring his nearsighted vision while driving to the New Line studio lot.

According to Yulian’s follow-up, Charlize’s production really was filming at New Line’s Hollywood studio.

Although his eyesight was far worse than before, Henry’s hearing and sense of smell had not declined, so driving posed no danger.

And as the CEO of Stark Pictures, getting into New Line’s studio lot was hardly difficult.

Security at Hollywood studios was nowhere near airtight. While it was not quite true that just anyone could stroll in, it was close enough.

Unless a director or producer had issued explicit restrictions, security guards rarely bothered stopping people from entering or leaving.

Henry did not even need to ask where exactly The Astronaut’s Wife was filming.

His hearing instantly picked up that familiar voice, and he headed straight toward it.

Interrupting a shoot recklessly was both rude and deeply hated, because every second the cameras rolled represented money burning away.

If the crew had to reshoot because of him, whether the staff came to resent him directly or redirected their anger toward the girl he wanted to see, neither outcome would be good.

Naturally, Henry would never behave so unprofessionally.

Nor did he want an angry director throwing him off set.

So he merely stood at the edge of the filming area and watched.

He watched the male and female leads harmoniously discussing the script together.

He watched the girl vividly portray her role, using the acting techniques he had taught her—or perhaps techniques she had developed herself.

Before long, the man silently standing there observing the production naturally attracted the crew’s attention.

During a break while the set was being adjusted, the director himself came over to greet him, apparently having recognized him.

”Mr. Henry Brown?”

The Jewish filmmaker Rand Ravich had spent over a decade working within film and television circles.

This was his first self-written and self-directed movie, so he naturally took it very seriously.

If Henry had been an ordinary paparazzo or entertainment reporter, Ravich would likely have ordered security to throw him out.

But the visitor was the CEO of Stark Pictures.

That carried an entirely different weight—even if this was technically a New Line studio lot.

Even though his desire to confirm the girl’s thoughts was burning inside him, Henry’s outward composure remained flawless.

He immediately shook the new director’s hand in greeting.

”Director Ravich, I hope my sudden visit hasn’t inconvenienced you. I came because I wanted to see how your science-fiction film is being shot—and whether there might be opportunities for our visual effects division.”

Grasping Henry’s hand enthusiastically, Rand Ravich replied with a trace of sourness:

”We actually had a better chance to cooperate before this. Back when several studios were competing for my script, I don’t recall seeing any offer from Stark Pictures.”

Henry smiled.

”I’ve seen your proposed budget. A thirty-million-dollar production isn’t something I can personally approve on my own.”

”People like to mention that I invested sixty-five million dollars into Titanic two years ago, but that only happened because Mr. Tony Stark himself approved it.”

”And getting that young master to nod his head required James Cameron proving himself through The Terminator and Aliens first.”

”As long as Director Ravich proves he can make a box-office hit, I’m sure we’ll have opportunities to work together in the future.”

This was the reality of Hollywood.

In the eyes of studio executives, box office determined everything.

Once that reason was laid bare, no amount of boasting about talent or credentials could overcome the fact that Ravich still had not truly proven himself.

Before today, he had only directed a short film in 1995 that screened at Sundance.

His ethnicity might help him secure support and earn one opportunity.

But if he wanted genuine respect in Hollywood, box office success was what mattered.

Understanding this perfectly, Rand Ravich gripped Henry’s hand tightly and said firmly:

”There will be opportunities.”

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