Back in 2009, I approached Jerry with six photographs. These six photographs depicted a sickly, grizzled type character with curious black lines dripping down across his noble face and a dead bird on his head, his lock adorned with treasures that a live bird might deposit. Jerry took one look at these photographs and said, “Let’s do it!”
Now, most producers would have had you physically removed from the premises at the very thought of such a thing, but I suppose what is so uniquely special for me, aside from taking such a great leap of faith on the crazed fruit of my inner ravings is that Jerry is the only guy I know who could make such a movie. And as we all know, that makes all the difference.
As the book you hold here will shortly tell you, Jerry’s early days were a decidedly humble affair. His ever burgeoning rise is a salute to hard work and perseverance: an inspiration to entrepreneurs everywhere. Furthermore, my admiration for the ethical way in which he embodies the nature of his vocation is infinite.
By the time of our first collaboration, Jerry had long achieved legendary status. Of course, I was aware of his prominence, but it wasn’t until Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl that I had the chance to witness those famed abilities firsthand. After the magnanimous Dick Cook offered me the prized role, the film suffered from a troubled genesis on set. Certain folks at Disney, whom we shall favor at this juncture by forgetting their names, were less than impressed by my portrayal of Captain Jack Sparrow. This executive peanut gallery farther piped up with such cerebral nuggets as “is he drunk?”, “is he gay?”, “why does he have to walk like that?” The situation was looking bleak. Clearly, the studio wanted me out. The director, my friend Gore Verbinski, stood firmly by my side, but it was going to take the talents of a man who wielded a weight far greater than the combined sum of our lowly stock to keep me from catching the early bus home. Jerry proceeded to work his wonders on the studio, standing firm against the barrage of protest for the bizarre choices of a lowly actor. The rest, as they say, is … whatever it is. However, it must be said that, more than just a brother in the face of battle behind the silver screen, Jerry has become both a dear friend and treasured confidant. I believe that in the smarter states they measure the caliber of his advice by gold bullion.
Over his peerless career, Jerry has more than made his mark on Hollywood. He is one of the greatest producers this town has ever seen. I count myself fortunate to have been able to peddle my wares in the grand age of Jerry Bruckheimer, and I invite you now, dear reader, to sample that age, which, make no mistake, continues to hurtle along at full pelt without any sign of slowing, and perhaps take a modicum of that trademark Bruckheimer vision, verve, and vitality home with you.
Have faith, for I plan on doing the same and fully respect that such attributes will prove to serve us both well.
Los Angeles | September 2012