Chapter 154: Captain Jack’s Audition, Part 1

Chapter 154: Chapter 154: Captain Jack’s Audition, Part 1

Irene smiled as she flipped through the actor profiles in her hands, her fingertip brushing over Johnny’s photo.

"At least it shows Captain Jack has enough charm. But seriously, do you think Old Man Robert can lower himself to play a crazed pirate?"

The familiar casting director, John Owen, chimed in.

"We can’t just ignore Fox’s reputation. Baird Fergus specifically called me yesterday, saying Captain Jack is a type Mr. De Niro has never played before.

He suddenly wants to challenge himself with a new role, but I really can’t imagine the big boss from The Godfather swaying his hips while holding a compass. Isn’t this just making things difficult for us?"

Irene laughed heartily. "My father even gave me a heads-up, saying De Niro is quite interested in our project, but we definitely have to consider the actual circumstances."

Jerry took a sip of coffee. "Robert Iger also spoke to me, saying Hugh Jackman has both great action skills and audience appeal, plus he can drive the Australian market. He insisted we give his possibility serious consideration."

John Owen nodded and turned to Jim Carrey’s profile. "CAA has been praising him to the skies, saying his comedic talent could make Captain Jack the ’funniest pirate in history.’ But the problem is, we’re not making a comedy."

Irene tapped her fingers on the desk. "Every one of these actors is a big shot, and none of them are easy to offend. But regardless, we must base everything on the audition results."

Everyone nodded.

Later, Adelaide Griffin from Fox and Disney representative Amy Pascal arrived one after another. The three of them stopped joking around, and half an hour later, a staff member pushed open the door. "The first auditioner, Hugh Jackman, has arrived."

The moment Hugh Jackman entered the room, he brought with him a powerful presence.

He wore a custom black leather vest over a white linen shirt, with two buttons casually undone at the collar to reveal the smooth lines of his collarbone. The outlines of his muscles were faintly visible beneath his clothes.

His hair was styled into neat, short curls with slightly messy strands over his forehead. A faint scar had been deliberately drawn on his face, which didn’t diminish his handsomeness but added a touch of ruggedness.

"Hello, everyone. I’m Hugh Jackman."

He bowed slightly toward the long table, his smile bright and confident. Without any small talk or waiting for instructions from the staff, he turned and walked toward the prop area, picking up the brass compass on the table.

The moment his fingertips touched the cold metal casing, his gaze instantly shifted, becoming sharp as an eagle’s with an unquestionable authority, completely shedding his previous gentleness.

"A compass can point the way, but it can never point to a man’s heart," he spoke. His voice was deep and powerful, with perfectly timed pauses at the end of his sentences, as if he were scrutinizing the crew around him.

Simulating a confrontation with a rival pirate, he quickly snatched up a wooden cutlass from nearby. With a flick of his wrist, the blade whistled through the air.

His movements were clean and efficient. Every slash and parry was precisely on point, clearly showing he had undergone extensive action training beforehand.

In particular, a side-roll dodge followed by a counterattack was so fluid it rivaled a professional fencer, making the Disney representative nod involuntarily and quickly jot down a few notes.

However, Irene frowned slightly.

Hugh’s performance was too "standard." Captain Jack’s cunning and madness became heroic decisiveness and composure in his hands.

He stood with a straight back. Even when he tried to relax, he couldn’t hide the innate righteousness in his bones. He completely lacked the loose, wandering, and dissolute feel of a pirate. Instead, he seemed more like a battle-hardened general—a style entirely different from Jack Sparrow.

"Very good, Mr. Jackman," Irene spoke up immediately after Hugh Jackman finished his performance, her tone gentle but firm.

"Could you try saying the lines again in a more sluggish tone? Imagine you’ve just downed three bottles of rum in a tavern—your steps are light, your vision is blurry, and you’ve almost forgotten where your ship is docked."

Hugh was stunned for a moment, clearly not expecting such a request.

He took a deep breath and tried to slouch his back and slow down his speech. However, his sharp jawline and still-piercing eyes made his "sluggishness" seem a bit forced, as if he were imitating rather than naturally expressing it.

After finishing his lines, he noticed the awkwardness himself and gave a helpless smile. "I know, Captain Jack needs to be a bit ’crazier’ and more ’disheveled.’ I’ll work on it some more."

"Alright, Mr. Jackman. Thank you very much for your performance," Irene said sincerely.

Makeup and costumes could be adjusted after joining the cast, but an actor’s performance style and aura were not so easily changed. No matter how much she liked Hugh Jackman, if he didn’t fit, he didn’t fit. When there was already a perfect answer available, these misalignments became particularly obvious.

Not long after Hugh left, Jim Carrey entered with a flurry of light footsteps.

He completely subverted the previous actor’s composure. The moment he walked in, he brought a sense of comedy.

His hair was styled with gel to be messy and spiky, as if tossed by sea winds. Three exaggerated red scars were drawn on his face, with a black mole added under his left eye. He wore a faded, patched-up pirate coat with a thick hemp rope tied haphazardly around his waist.

"Oho! Look what I found? A bunch of poor saps waiting to get drunk on rum!" He spoke in his signature exaggerated tone, his voice jumping an octave with a thick sense of mockery.

Before his voice even faded, he skipped around a wooden barrel in a circle, his hands spread and waving like a bird’s, his coat tails fluttering with his movements.

When he picked up the rum bottle, he didn’t drink normally. Instead, he pointed the mouth of the bottle at the corner of his mouth, tilting it to let the air "flow" in while making a grimace, as if the alcohol content were painfully high.

"This wine tastes worse than seawater!" he shouted, casually tossing the bottle to the ground (carefully controlling the force to avoid breaking it).

Then he made faces at the air, puffing his cheeks like a pufferfish one moment, squinting like an owl the next, and even improvising a Joker-style spinning dance, his coat tails sweeping dust off the floor.

Suppressed laughter rang out in the studio from time to time. The CAA representative’s face was full of pride, frequently looking at Jerry and Irene as if showing off Jim Carrey’s comedic talent.

But Jerry secretly shook his head and drew an ’X’ on the profile folder with his pen.

Jim Carrey didn’t seem to have performed enough. He walked to the long table, leaned in close to Irene, and his eyes widened exaggeratedly. "Dear Director, where do you think my Black Pearl is hidden? Is it in a shark’s belly, or in a siren’s song?"

This time, Jerry spoke first, his tone carrying a polite distance. "Jim, that was very creative. But Captain Jack’s madness carries a wisdom and composure that others can’t see through. You need to be more restrained and controlled. After all, you can’t survive on the high seas just by being wacky."