With The Hunger Games concluding its theatrical run in North America, Studio Thirteen quickly launched its home video products. Two versions were released: a standard DVD set priced at $19.99 and a deluxe Blu-ray set with two price tiers, $39.99 and $99.99.
As everyone knows, the mass production costs of DVDs are exceptionally low. In fact, the expense of distributing them across the U.S. often exceeds the cost of pressing the discs themselves.
When produced in large quantities, the manufacturing cost of a single DVD is less than 5% of its retail price. For instance, the standard DVD version of The Hunger Games cost less than $1 per unit to produce.
Of course, the total cost includes storage, distribution, advertising, and a share of profits for retailers. Factoring in these expenses, the average production cost of a standard DVD rose to around $5 per unit. The deluxe editions, which included trinkets like a Mockingjay pin, had slightly higher costs, averaging $7 and $15, respectively.
The profit margins for movie discs far exceeded those of box office earnings. This was why, before 2010, Hollywood thrived on home video sales.
Although digital downloads and streaming rentals had begun undermining physical media since 2008, DVDs and Blu-rays still generated considerable profits for Hollywood.
In its first week on North American shelves, The Hunger Games sold 3.2 million units. While not reaching the heights of earlier blockbuster releases that easily surpassed 5 million units in their debut week, it marked the best first-week sales for a film in 2012.
By its tenth day, The Hunger Games had sold over 4.5 million discs. As with its theatrical release, sales sharply declined after the initial rush, dropping to just tens of thousands of units per week.
By mid-August, the home video revenue for The Hunger Games in North America had already surpassed $110 million.
Meanwhile, Bella Anderson secured several licensing deals for the film.
The streaming and rental rights went to Netflix for $15 million over seven years, while ABC, owned by Disney, acquired the broadcast rights for $14 million over the same period. Other negotiations were ongoing, promising additional revenue streams from merchandise and other licenses.
Even without considering sequels, this film was set to bring Matthew a significant profit.
In contrast, The Avengers was still raking in box office earnings in North America. However, after three and a half months of release, its growth had slowed considerably.
Matthew held a 40% stake in The Avengers' investment and profits, so he kept a close eye on its performance.
The film's North American gross had reached $621.5 million, making it only the third movie in history, after Titanic and Avatar, to surpass $600 million domestically.
Globally, its box office total stood at $1.489 billion, firmly in third place historically, with the $1.5 billion mark well within reach.
Repeated investment successes made Matthew even more certain of his strategy: as an investor privileged to enter the arena, his focus should be on mass-market projects.
Over the years, independent filmmakers and directors had often approached him with pitches, including notable art-house projects. Without exception, he turned them all down.
Such films might eventually become classics. Even if their box office returns were modest, they could turn a profit after five or ten years through awards and niche markets.
But when compared to high-grossing projects, the time cost of these smaller films made them less appealing to Matthew.
Moreover, his perspective on film hadn't changed.
Some filmmakers had criticized investors like him, accusing them of caring only about profits rather than artistic value. Some even blamed audiences for being "crass" and not appreciating their work when their movies flopped.
Matthew found such attitudes exasperating. Why should the preferences of a few dictate what the majority should pay for?
In his view, art-house filmmakers and their niche audiences should simply enjoy their work privately. Forcing the wider audience to foot the bill was worse than producing outright bad movies.
In Matthew's opinion, cinema had evolved into a collective art form. Truly great films were those that could convey their ideas and artistry to a broad audience.
If your work alienates viewers, why should they pay for your vision? That expectation was ridiculous.
This mindset became evident when Stephanie Meyer's The Host, adapted from her novel, suffered both critically and commercially.
The production company had hoped to capitalize on the success of the Twilight series by launching another young adult franchise.
When Stephanie Meyer initially pitched Matthew a trilogy adaptation, he declined. Instead, Open Road Films purchased the rights at a high price and enlisted Andrew Niccol, known for The Truman Show and In Time, to direct.
But the film was far from a success. With a $45 million production budget, it earned just over $25 million domestically. The film tried to replicate Twilight's commercial appeal while striving to be more "artistic," resulting in a product that was neither.
Audiences rejected it, as evidenced by the box office numbers. Critics weren't impressed either; The Host scored a dismal 9% on Rotten Tomatoes.
The contrasting fates of The Twilight Saga and The Host led to a shift in Hollywood's perception of Stephanie Meyer. Many concluded that Twilight succeeded because of Matthew Horner's involvement as an investor and producer.
As time passed, Matthew's work on The Martian neared its conclusion.
The remaining scenes, as before, centered on Mark Watney's solitary experiences.
"I can't believe how many years have flown by," Ridley Scott remarked to Matthew as they stood among a field of potatoes specifically cultivated for the set. "I still remember the first time I met you. Helen brought you in, and you looked like a real-life barbarian—so ridiculously fit."
Matthew laughed. "So, that's why you cast me as the barbarian chieftain?"
Ridley didn't answer directly. Instead, he said, "You've improved a lot, and very quickly. I remember when we shot Black Hawk Down, you breezed through the action scenes but struggled with the dramatic ones."
"And now?" Matthew asked.
Ridley was straightforward. "Your performance in Mark Watney's solo scenes is outstanding—especially your improvisations. They're brilliant."
Matthew scratched his head. "Really?"
"You'll see," Ridley said earnestly. "When this film is released, you'll be recognized as a serious actor."
Glancing at the cameras, Ridley added, "Alright, Matthew, this is the final scene. Stay sharp."
Matthew nodded. "Got it."
Ridley left the set and returned to the director's monitor. After confirming the setup, he announced, "Action!"
The crew instantly focused, and so did Matthew. He mounted a camera on the wall, using the potato field as a backdrop, adjusting the angle as he spoke. "NASA can talk to me, and they never shut up. They want to upgrade every system in the Hab."
He finished adjusting the camera and, feigning a serious tone, said, "Why? Because they want to see my potato field. Fine, I'll indulge them—let them micromanage my crops!"
Walking excitedly into the field, Matthew continued, "How about this? Impressive, right? These potatoes were grown with Watney-brand Martian fertilizer! I declare them revolutionary!"
He crouched and pulled up a plant, revealing a cluster of potatoes dangling from its roots. "See? Fully mature. Guess what? I ate one yesterday! I achieved something monumental, something no one else ever has! What's that? You're wondering what it is? Fine, I'll tell you. I'm the first human in history to eat Martian potatoes. For now, the only one."
A man in isolation who regains communication with others is bound to become chatty. As Matthew harvested the potatoes, he dropped them into a nearby bucket, saying, "Listen, I don't want to brag, but I'm the greatest botanist on Mars. This is an incredible achievement."
After finishing one plant, he moved to another. "Another perk of talking to NASA? I get emails. Tons of them. The coolest one came from my alma mater, the University of Chicago."
Looking at the camera, he added, "They told me that once you grow plants in a place, you've officially begun colonizing it. So technically, I'm a Martian colonist."
He struck a pose.
Behind the monitor, Ridley Scott nodded in satisfaction. "Cut! That's a wrap for this take!"
Matthew tossed the potato aside and took a wet towel to clean his hands. With that, all scenes for Mark Watney were completed.
The crew still had about 20 days of filming left, with Ridley Scott planning to relocate to Budapest for the next phase.
Matthew, however, wouldn't be joining them in Europe. He had plenty of work awaiting him back in North America.
_________________________
[Check out my Patreon for +200 additional chapters in all my fanfics! $5 for all!!]
[w w w . p a t r e o n .com / INNIT]
[+50 PowerStones = +1 Chapter] [+5 Reviews = +1 Chapter]