Chapter 232 – Hollywood Salaries
With the completion of Dawnlight's Burbank headquarters, the eight-story Dawnlight Tower officially opened its doors. Together with the surrounding production facilities, the Dawnlight Group was entering a new era.
Dawnlight Pictures.
Landmark Cinemas.
AMC Cable Network.
Dawnlight Studios.
Dawnlight Home Entertainment.
In the conference room at Dawnlight Pictures, Aaron sat down with senior executives to map out the company's next stage of expansion.
"Next year, AMC will have to compete directly with TCM for classic film rights," Aaron began. "Turner Broadcasting is large, but there's no need to be intimidated."
"Neither side will bid recklessly. Dawnlight isn't CVC—we have strong cash flow."
His position was clear: this was a battle worth fighting.
After all, Turner Broadcasting already controlled more than two thousand MGM titles. Aaron doubted they would aggressively overpay to compete for additional classic libraries.
Brad Grey, however, had a different emphasis.
"Aaron, I think we should focus on new releases," he said. "Dawnlight films perform extremely well on television."
"And Dawnlight Television has already begun producing original series."
It was a practical point. As a relatively young studio, Dawnlight lacked a deep legacy library, aside from the catalog acquired through Heritage Entertainment.
Aaron turned to CFO Jessica Parker.
"If I wanted to acquire Orion Pictures or The Samuel Goldwyn Company next year," he asked calmly, "could Dawnlight support it financially?"
"Orion and Goldwyn?" Jessica considered carefully. "Both own libraries of over a thousand titles. They won't come cheap."
"That said," she continued, "Dawnlight's finances are very strong. Yes, this year's spending has been heavy, but our overall performance is excellent. Banks and investment institutions are more than willing to finance us."
Aaron nodded.
After Orion's bankruptcy, the company had been taken over by creditors, but Metromedia's John Kluge injected new capital, allowing operations to continue. Still, Orion's recent output had been disappointing. The $22 million sequel RoboCop 3 had just opened to a weak $4 million weekend and dismal reviews.
Confidence among creditors and shareholders was clearly eroding.
As for The Samuel Goldwyn Company, its growth was constrained by limited capital. Despite respectable films, Samuel Goldwyn Jr. struggled to convince investors to fund expansion.
Dawnlight needed assets—specifically film libraries—to strengthen its foundation.
A deeper catalog would directly benefit AMC Cable Network. Library content not only generated revenue through television licensing but also through home video rentals, which remained a steady long-term income stream.
Recently, China had introduced the world's first VCD player, powered by a newly developed image-decoding chip that allowed video and audio to be stored on compact discs.
Aaron understood the implications immediately.
DVD technology had yet to emerge, but it would only be a matter of time. When it did, the home entertainment market would explode. Production and distribution costs would rise—but so would the value of film rights.
That was why he was moving now.
Acquire libraries before the next technological wave drove prices through the roof.
The next few years would define whether Dawnlight remained an ambitious independent studio—or transformed into a true Hollywood powerhouse.
In the top-floor office of Dawnlight Tower, Aaron leaned back in his chair, flipping through a horror script titled P2.
The premise was simple: a sexy, attractive female executive is trapped in a dark underground P2 by a security guard obsessed with her. A claustrophobic nightmare filled with screams, suspense, and danger.
A low-budget thriller blending fear, tension, and sensuality—specifically tailored for Monica Bellucci. It would be produced and distributed under Dawnlight's genre label, Twilight Pictures.
A knock sounded at the door.
Christiana Reali stepped into the office.
"Victoria's Secret will hold its lingerie show at the Plaza Hotel in New York," she said, moving closer. "The day before Thanksgiving."
"Late this month. I'll be there too."
Aaron nodded. His Gulfstream IV had already been delivered and was parked at Burbank Airport. A trip to New York was now effortless.
Christiana slid onto his lap and picked up a newspaper from his desk.
"Oh—this is Macaulay Culkin, right? Hollywood's highest-paid child star?"
Aaron glanced at the headline, his hand casually resting on her thigh before leaning in to kiss her cheek.
"That's him. He's commanding $8 million now. That's what he's getting for the family comedy Getting Even with Dad."
It was staggering.
When Culkin made the first Home Alone, he earned just $110,000. By the time Home Alone 2 was released last year, his salary had jumped to $4.5 million—plus 5% of the North American box office gross.
Earlier this year, he earned $5 million for the thriller The Good Son, directed by Joseph Ruben.
The most expensive child star in Hollywood history.
Christiana looked stunned.
"He's only fourteen, isn't he?"
"Fourteen," Aaron confirmed.
But Aaron also knew this was likely the peak.
Culkin's parents were already locked in a bitter custody battle. The family turmoil was spiraling. And like many former child stars—Drew Barrymore being the most obvious example—early exposure to alcohol and drugs had already begun to take a toll.
In Hollywood, child actors rarely transitioned smoothly into adulthood.
Jodie Foster was one of the very few exceptions.
Still, Culkin had earned enough money to secure his future.
An $8 million salary at fourteen.
For context, the top salaries in Hollywood were around $15 million. Arnold Schwarzenegger, Sylvester Stallone, and Kevin Costner were commanding that level—true A-list power players.
Mel Gibson earned $10 million for Lethal Weapon 3 and had just increased his quote to $15 million for Maverick, co-starring Jodie Foster.
As for actresses, none had yet crossed the $10 million threshold.
Nicole Kidman, despite consecutive hits like Ghost and Sleepless in Seattle, earned only $4.5 million for The Pelican Brief—already considered top-tier for a leading actress.
At the moment, the highest-paid actress was Jodie Foster. With two Academy Awards for Best Actress and the success of The Silence of the Lambs and A Few Good Men, her minimum quote was around $6 million.
And for Maverick, she reportedly secured $8 million.
Nicole, being Australian, faced additional barriers in negotiating parity with American-born stars. But if The Pelican Brief proved successful again, her asking price would likely surpass $6 million.
Aaron leaned back thoughtfully.
Hollywood salaries were a game of leverage—box office receipts, awards prestige, and timing.
And timing, more than anything, was everything.