[Chapter 877: A Tight Grip]
Morton's Restaurant, Beverly Hills.
Roland Emrich sat across from Bill chanic, the CEO of Columbia Pictures, awkwardly picking at the steak on his plate. He tried to ignore the occasional glances from surrounding diners and regretted his decision to eat at this Hollywood hotspot today.
It was the second week since Godzilla hit theaters, and it had received a flurry of negative reviews throughout the week. With the morning box office numbers from the film's opening week released, Roland felt no relief whatsoever. He secretly drove to a few theaters in the San Fernando Valley that afternoon to check attendance. Compared to the crowded houses of the previous Friday, most auditoriums showing Godzilla now looked mostly empty. He couldn't even bear to think about how much the box office would drop this week -- by sixty percent, seventy percent, or possibly worse?
There was no doubt about it; Godzilla was shaping up to be a significant setback in his career.
After years of hard work, Roland had accumulated a fortune of tens of millions of dollars. Even with his $20 million salary for Godzilla and future box office shares, he could comfortably retire now and live a worry-free life.
However, in Hollywood, success was not solely defined by money. Most people put a greater emphasis on career achievents and their standing and influence in the industry. Everyone wanted to climb higher up the ladder.
While many popular stars in Hollywood had sufficient wealth to support lavish lifestyles, they still struggled with various ntal and physical issues due to the pressures of their fluctuating careers. For most Hollywood A-listers, being suddenly abandoned by the industry and losing the spotlight created a sense of loss that was far more daunting than losing all their money.
Roland knew that just one failure wouldn't be a career-ending blow. Yet, it would certainly imply that in the coming years, unless he produced another film of the sa caliber as Independence Day or Deep Impact, he could never expect to enjoy the kind of lavish treatnt he had before Godzilla was released -- control over his projects and that top-tier $20 million directing salary, among others.
Previously, before Godzilla, he wouldn't have even had to personally discuss contracts with Bill chanic tonight; it would have just been a matter for his agent.
If only he could do it again.
This thought crossed his mind, and Roland self-deprecatingly shook his head.
Suddenly, he recalled that Firefly had recently announced the director for The Day After Tomorrow, a project he felt was rightfully his. Firefly might not have offered a $20 million directing fee, but given their previous collaborations on Deep Impact and Independence Day, they wouldn't be stingy. He believed that with a fixed salary and box office shares, securing a total inco comparable to the $30 million from Independence Day should be easily achievable.
At the mont, the earnings from Godzilla based on its $20 million salary and North Arican 15% box office cut might still allow him to reach $30 million. However, given Godzilla's disastrous reviews and box office failure, he was certain he could never command such a fee for his next film. The damage to his popularity due to Godzilla was even more incalculable.
...
While Roland simred in self-pity, Bill chanic felt increasingly restless.
The Godzilla project was one that Sony Pictures had pushed from the top down. Logically, if the project failed, it shouldn't fall on his shoulders.
However, in a Japanese conglorate like Sony, such obvious rationalization rarely held up. If Godzilla had succeeded, there would be a group celebration; now that it had failed, Chairman Nobuyuki Idei had no bla to shoulder. Likewise, his direct superior, Howard Stringer, CEO of Sony Pictures, wouldn't step up to accept responsibility either, leaving Bill chanic as the most imdiate film business head left holding the bag.
Fortunately, both at Sony and within the film industry, everyone understood the situation. Although he had to take the fall, there wouldn't be any substantial punishnt, which was the only consolation in the matter.
However, there was still a pressing issue on his hands: the contract with Roland Emrich. Originally, the company's higher-ups, brimming with confidence, had signed a three-picture deal with Roland.
With Godzilla's box office plumting within the first week, the prospects for the next two sequels were dim, but the contract with Roland wasn't automatically voided.
During contract negotiations, the parties had discussed a contingency plan if the sequel could not be initiated. The conclusion was that if the Godzilla sequel couldn't move forward, Roland had the right to select two other projects from Sony to direct.
Toho had produced 22 films in its Godzilla series over 40 years, so no one anticipated that bringing Godzilla to Hollywood would result in just one film before everything went awry. Thus, no one paid much attention to that clause at the ti.
Now, with a total investnt of $220 million for Godzilla, it was likely the film would barely manage to recoup $150 million dostically, let alone the initial expectation of $300 million. The dismal box office performance in Japan suggested overseas markets would be just as grim, confirming this project would lead to substantial losses for Sony. As the producer and director directly responsible for its failure, Sony higher-ups were keen to terminate Roland's involvent and were unwilling to uphold that contingency clause.
Issuing a resolution to this contractual dilemma naturally fell to Bill chanic.
No director in Hollywood hadn't faced failure; even Jas Caron, fresh off one hit after another, had suffered a blow with The Abyss that left Fox reeling. However, no one knew when a director might make a coback; having been in the industry for decades, Bill chanic understood this all too well, so he didn't want to completely burn bridges with Roland.
...
As dinner wound down, Bill gathered his thoughts and broached the topic: "Roland, I rember Firefly's disaster film series has at least five titles, and your directorial works, Deep Impact and Independence Day, did exceptionally well. I'm sure Eric would love for you to continue collaborating with Firefly."
Upon hearing Bill's words, Roland still felt little comfort. Eric had indeed said he would welco him back anyti. However, Roland held onto his pride; he had sacrificed a good working relationship with Firefly for the promise of a hefty paycheck. With his current project landing him in hot water, he couldn't just walk back to Firefly with his tail between his legs.
Roland understood why Bill had invited him to dinner today. Bill wasn't trying to force the issue with the contingency clause. If both parties weren't genuinely willing to collaborate, forcing Warner's carried projects into managent would never yield favorable results. Doing so would only compromise the quality of the films. If the projects failed again, Sony would simply lose so money, but if he botched two movies in quick succession, he would undoubtedly find himself forced into early retirent.
Setting down his utensils, Roland wiped his mouth with a napkin and said, "Bill, thanks for dinner. So, let's hear what Sony has in mind."
Relieved, Bill chanic replied, "Well, Roland, we're currently developing a project about the Arican Revolutionary War called The Patriot, and we haven't yet finalized the director. If you're interested, we'd like you to direct this film."
"I've never tackled a war film before," Roland replied, before a thought struck him. He quickly asked, "Have you settled on the lead?"
Surprised by Rolands's quick reaction, Bill paused before admitting, "We're in talks with two suitable candidates: l Gibson and Kevin Costner."
The atmosphere grew quiet again.
Both l Gibson and Kevin Costner were not only A-list Hollywood stars, but they had also each earned an Oscar nomination or win for Best Director with their respective war films, Braveheart and Dances with Wolves. Should either serve as the lead in The Patriot, Roland's control over the project as director would be significantly diminished. Even if he weren't involved at all, the project would evidently proceed smoothly.
Roland sensed that Sony inserting him into a genre he wasn't well-versed in was effectively assigning him a 'figurehead' role, one that wouldn't substantially influence the overall film. This arrangent felt insulting given his standing in Hollywood.
Taking a sip of the red wine at the table to steady his emotions, Roland asked, "So, what if we just terminate the contract?"
"$1 million," Bill chanic replied clearly, having clearly thought of this scenario beforehand. However, as he ntioned this sowhat dismissive sum, he felt a little embarrassed and added, "That's the highest amount I can approve. If that's your choice, I can have a word with Howard; maybe we can raise it a bit."
But how much could it possibly go up?
Roland contemplated this, feeling conflicted. Sony's solution was very clear. He would direct The Patriot, which would likely be a success with lead stars like l Gibson or Kevin Costner attached, ensuring the film's quality and box office was sowhat secured. Completing this film would smoothly allow them to bypass that contingency clause. But accepting this directing role ant his paycheck would not be impressive; any talk of a $20 million salary or significant box office commissions was out of the question. Even maintaining his previous $8 million fixed salary from before Godzilla would be tough.
Yet, if he chose to terminate, he'd only receive a symbolic compensation.
Moreover, losing this contract at a ti when Godzilla had already flopped ant for at least the next couple of years, other Hollywood companies would likely not approach him again. This wasn't simply due to his directing ability; the overwhelmingly negative reviews for Godzilla would severely impact the box office potential of his next film. Sony's first solution utilized the nas of l Gibson and Kevin Costner to potentially mitigate the damage to his future marketability.
It was clear Sony hoped he might choose to void the contract on his own but wasn't willing to offer a substantial compensation package, hence the indecisive solution presented.
Sony knew he wouldn't resort to litigation; after falling short with such a massive production, turning around to sue would ensure no one would want to work with him again.
Ultimately, Roland Emrich replied, "Bill, give so ti to think it over."
When Roland didn't ntion the termination again, Bill chanic realized he had decided to accept the director position for The Patriot. It was just that Roland needed to save dignity and not agree on the spot. Bill felt no need to press him; as long as they could finalize the agreent without any major contention, he was satisfied.
The two n shared no further conversation, and Bill was preparing to signal the waiter for the bill when he noticed so commotion across the restaurant. A man and two won exited one of the booths nearby, drawing lively greetings from other patrons.
As Roland heard the stir, he turned to see Eric with the group.
...
With only two weeks until the release of Casino Royale, Eric could slack off a bit on the promotional work, but as the director, he knew he would need to take part in the film's marketing soon. Today, he had taken Drew and Amy Pascal out to discuss this very matter.
Politely responding to the well-wishers around him, Eric, arm-linked with the girl and Amy Pascal, planned to make their way outside. Just then, they locked eyes with Roland Emrich and halted montarily.
In recent days, Eric had certainly beco one of the last people Roland wanted to encounter.
It was due to the collaboration on Firefly's Deep Impact and Independence Day that Roland had leapfrogged into the ranks of super-directors, prompting Sony to offer him an exorbitant contract to capture his talents.
By forsaking his successful collaboration with Firefly for the lucrative Sony deal, Roland had already felt a twinge of guilt. Now, with Godzilla's dismal reception at the box office, seeing Eric only amplified his discomfort.
"Good evening, Eric," Roland said, making an effort to be cordial despite his discomfort, hesitating slightly on whether to stand.
"Good evening, Roland, and Bill."
Eric sensed the awkwardness in Roland's deanor, noticing nurous Hollywood acquaintances around them. If he stopped to engage, they would surely have a new story to tell by morning. Not wanting to aggravate Roland further, Eric offered them a subdued nod and continued past them.
Roland felt a mix of relief and frustration at Eric's response. After exchanging a glance with Bill chanic, they both realized they were not eager to settle the bill at that mont. Leaving right after, who knew what might happen in the parking lot, where conversations could beco more complicated.
...
In the restaurant's parking lot, the girl still clung to Eric, grinning as she remarked to Amy, "Haha, Amy, did you just notice Roland's expression? That was hilarious."
Amy Pascal just chuckled, not joining in on her observation.
"Okay, no need to gloat," Eric said as he lightly tapped her on the forehead. He then turned to Amy Pascal, "Regarding the acquisition proposal for E! Entertainnt, please expedite the talks; we'd ideally like results by the end of the month."
"Eric, it seems Warner Cable has noticed our renewed interest in this deal. They don't seem in a hurry to sell their shares anymore. They might have figured out your interest in E! Entertainnt."
The twins brought the girl's Land Rover around, and Eric leaned against the car door, stating, "I've been reviewing so docunts, and it appears that the Cablevision's Rainbow dia might also have intentions to sell. You should reach out to them as well; their Bravo network aligns closely with E! Entertainnt."
"I noticed that too," Amy Pascal nodded. "However, Cablevision likely won't sell too many shares, and GE has also shown interest in Rainbow dia. They've been expanding their cable TV holdings."
"Cablevision knows which collaborations have potential. If possible, we don't need to aim for too many shares; acquiring operational rights would suffice. Plus, your main focus should still be on E! Entertainnt as the primary objective, while Rainbow dia serves as a backup plan." After pausing, Eric added, "However, I suspect once Batman & Robin hits theaters next week, Warner will be eager to offload their burdenso stake in E! Entertainnt. If Ti Warner's losses keep mounting, they may very well reconsider Terry Sel's role as CEO."
Amy Pascal imdiately grasped the implication behind Eric's words and pressed further, "Eric, are you doubtful about Batman & Robin?"
"I haven't seen a final cut of Batman & Robin yet, so I can't be entirely certain. However, if you keep an eye on developnts, Warner has kept such a tight lid on the movie that beyond the trailer, there has been scant information regarding its actual content. There haven't even been any official early reviews."
As Amy sifted through her ntal notes, she found Eric's observation to be spot on.
Warner had ticulously guarded the film's details prior to its release, likely to maintain an air of intrigue, but another possibility existed: they lacked confidence in the film's quality and feared that advanced word-of-mouth could adversely affect its box office performance on opening weekend.
*****
spatreon/Sayonara816.
User Comments
0 comments from readers