Chapter 63: Two Power Players
"Steven Soderbergh and David Lynch—two years in a row, American independent films have taken home the Palme d'Or at Cannes!"
Michael Kuhn raised his glass with a grin. David Lynch's Wild at Heart had been financed largely by PolyGram.
"Seems like independent cinema has a lot of potential."
Aaron's face remained calm. "So PolyGram is planning to expand its investment in indies?"
"There's no shortage of independent filmmakers in Hollywood," Kuhn replied, taking a sip of wine. "Plenty of room to let you experiment. But remember, even small films eat through budgets in the millions. It's not something to throw money at lightly."
He leaned in a little. "Very few people can move as fast as you—backing and developing a brand-new director's project at this pace."
Aaron knew exactly what he meant: Boyz n the Hood. A gritty story of Black urban life, directed by John Singleton—a fresh graduate, barely out of college.
Aaron chuckled. "I don't have much choice. The big agencies have pushed director fees sky-high. Named directors are expensive.
Take James Cameron and Francis Ford Coppola—Terminator 2: Judgment Day and The Godfather Part III. Their fees alone were six million apiece.
Even mid-tier directors who've proven themselves want three million and up. The established ones? Five million, minimum."
"Exactly. Newcomers are cheaper, but the risk…" Kuhn shook his head. He wasn't about to gamble the way Aaron did.
He wasn't wrong. Carolco's gamble on Terminator 2 was staggering—over $100 million, setting a new record.
Arnold Schwarzenegger's paycheck alone wasn't cash but a Gulfstream IV private jet—worth more than $12 million. Mario Kassar, Carolco's boss, was the very definition of big spender.
Kuhn smiled knowingly. "Tell me, Aaron… are you familiar with Joel and Ethan Coen?"
Michael Kuhn leaned back with a casual smile. "The Coen brothers—are you familiar with them?"
"Of course." Aaron nodded. "They made their mark with their debut Blood Simple, which won the very first Independent Spirit Award and the Jury Prize at the second Sundance Film Festival. After that came Raising Arizona, and this year they've got Miller's Crossing hitting theaters.
Their style leans toward dark thrillers—suspenseful, drenched in noir atmosphere, and absolutely distinctive."
In America's indie scene, the Coens were already considered standard-bearers.
Kuhn chuckled. "This time PolyGram is putting up nine million dollars for their new thriller Barton Fink. The U.S. distribution partner is 20th Century Fox."
Aaron raised a brow. "Why Fox? Why not work with Orion or Samuel Goldwyn? Independent distributors would give you more leverage."
Kuhn studied him for a moment. "PolyGram has just acquired a 49% stake in Working Title Films in the UK.
Truth be told, we want our own production footprint in Hollywood. Your company, Dawnlight Films—I see great potential there."
Aaron's smile thinned. I treat you like a partner, and you're already thinking about buying me out?
"Michael, Dawnlight Films intends to stay independent. I know PolyGram and Working Title just launched that joint sales outfit, Manifest Film Sales—production on one side, distribution on the other, all backed by PolyGram.
But European art-house films aren't the same as Hollywood commercial features. Breaking into Hollywood isn't as simple as it looks."
He paused. "PolyGram started as a joint venture between Philips in the Netherlands and Siemens in Germany. Siemens pulled out three years ago, so Philips is now the sole parent.
If you want into Hollywood, the fastest way isn't dabbling in indies—it's what Sony did: buy Columbia outright. Tossing a few million at art films won't cut it."
Kuhn shrugged. "Philips isn't Sony. We don't want to play that big."
"Fair enough. Let's just say—we'll find ways to collaborate when the opportunity's right."
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Burbank, Disney Headquarters
Michael Eisner sat on the office sofa when Frank Wells, the company's president, walked in.
"Hollywood Pictures' first title, Arachnophobia, premieres next month. Just a low-budget horror comedy."
Hollywood Pictures was the new label Eisner had launched under Buena Vista to target adult-oriented films. Touchstone had been a success, so Eisner wanted a sibling studio to spark some internal competition.
"I'm not worried about Arachnophobia," Eisner said flatly. "What matters is Amblin."
Amblin Entertainment—founded by Steven Spielberg with Kathleen Kennedy and Frank Marshall—was the real prize. Spielberg was Hollywood's most bankable director, working exclusively with Universal and Warner. Every other studio, Disney included, wanted in. Partnering with Amblin was only a foot in the door.
Frank nodded, then shifted gears. "As for Dick Tracy—two weeks in, it's only at $24 million domestic, and the reviews are poor. Projections say it'll limp to maybe $50 million total."
Eisner's face hardened. "And The Rocketeer? When does production start?"
"Jeffrey has it slated for August. He seems very bullish on it."
Frank knew why. This spring's Pretty Woman had been a phenomenon—Jeffrey Katzenberg had championed it, and now his stock inside Disney was sky-high. Eisner's pet project, Dick Tracy, on the other hand, had been plagued by cost overruns and then Warren Beatty's scandal. Even with Disney pouring money into PR, the results were humiliating. Pretty Woman was on track for multiples of Dick Tracy's gross.
Frank sighed inwardly. Both Eisner and Katzenberg were brilliant—but equally controlling, equally power-hungry. Now Katzenberg's rising star was beginning to cast shadows that Eisner didn't like.
"About The Rocketeer," Eisner pressed, "didn't the team request a budget increase?"
"Yes. From $25 million to $35 million—to allow for bigger set pieces."
"And Jeffrey?"
"He wants to wait and see the early dailies before making a call."
Eisner's eyes narrowed. "The Rocketeer isn't just a movie—it's a merchandising play. Toys, costumes, lunchboxes. The character and props must be first-rate. An extra ten million is money well spent."
Frank hesitated, then nodded. He knew he'd have to bring Katzenberg into the discussion.
As always, Frank Wells was left to play mediator—the essential buffer between two titans who were destined to clash.
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