Bernard Eichinger finally signed.
Because he had no choice.
As he surrendered, Gail Berman smiled, raised her glass, clinked it lightly against his, wished him a happy New Year, and said that preparations for the Resident Evil series could begin next spring.
Since what's done is done, Eichinger stopped overthinking it. He nodded, agreed, and took his leave.
Their parting meant that 2003 had officially ended—and once 2004 arrived, the killing intent also appeared…
Well, that's nonsense. Fox wasn't about to strike that fast.
As long as Goblet of Fire hadn't started filming, Fox would stay put.
Because a proper attack within the rules must be a one-hit kill.
If you reveal your hand too early, well, congratulations—you've just flushed all your plans straight down the drain.
Fox was waiting for the wind to rise.
And waiting takes time.
Meanwhile, the world still spun on, belonging to others for now.
For instance, with the arrival of 2004, Disney finally set the date for its shareholders' meeting: March 3rd, at the end of the first quarter.
And the main topic? Dismissing the chairman.
That news hit the front page of every major outlet immediately.
After all, Disney was worth over 60 billion dollars.
Everyone wanted to know: who would seize control of this giant fairytale kingdom? Would the Disney family reclaim it? Would it become a fully public corporation? Or would some clever monkey snatch the peach while no one was looking?
To the public, it was just another power struggle—big money soap opera style.
While the storm of Disney's infighting raged, Warner had its own drama.
After Robert Shaye's resignation, the chairman seat at New Line was empty.
His successor was confirmed on January 6th, 2004:
Alan Horn, president and CEO of Warner Bros.
That's right—the right-hand man of Barry Meyer.
Horn taking over New Line meant that New Line was now firmly under Meyer's control.
One step away from being completely absorbed.
And that step… was only a matter of time.
Not that it mattered anymore.
Because the moment Barry Meyer placed Alan Horn in New Line, The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit became his personal treasures.
Those were the only things at New Line worth keeping.
Everything else could burn for all he cared.
Barry Meyer's control of Middle-earth was the clearest proof of Ted Turner's defeat.
But Turner wasn't the only loser in the "anti-alliance."
After months of tug-of-war, Bronfman's offer to acquire BMG was officially rejected.
They decided to stick with Sony.
The reason was simple.
Sony had raised its offer—and was proposing a stock-swap merger, allowing BMG to keep some autonomy.
They believed the traditional record business was dying, but they didn't want to sell out completely. Apple's iTunes Store had shown them a glimpse of music's future.
Yes, the iTunes Store had launched.
On April 28th of last year, it went live for MacOS.
In just six days, Americans bought one million songs.
Insane numbers, given how tiny Mac's market share was at the time.
Then on November 16th, it came to Windows.
And boom. Explosion.
Apple hadn't even released earnings yet, but the Big Five could see it—Apple was about to take off.
And since iTunes was the rocket, that meant pop music's golden age was coming back.
That's why BMG rejected Bronfman's offer.
Selling to him was a one-time deal.
Merging with Sony meant staying in the game—and maybe winning more.
Bronfman was disappointed for all of one second before turning his eyes to EMI.
Well, what can you do? The guy's rich and reckless.
Of course, his money didn't appear out of thin air.
In that same January of 2004, while BMG was embracing Sony, Vivendi struck a deal with General Electric.
Vivendi sold 80% of Universal Pictures to GE for $5 billion—$4 billion in cash and the rest in GE shares.
That deal instantly cleaned up Vivendi's finances.
But it also meant that Bronfman would officially say goodbye to the Universal empire he had built himself.
The valuation of Universal was also quietly cut.
They had been talking $5.4 billion—but $400 million vanished when DreamWorks announced it wouldn't renew its deal.
To be honest, corporate deals like these don't affect ordinary people much—unless it's something dramatic, like Disney's civil war. Otherwise, the public would rather just stay happy.
So at that moment, what actually caught America's attention was award season.
Yes, the Golden Globes and Oscars were rolling around again.
On the surface, this year's awards had nothing to do with Isabella.
But in reality, they kind of did.
New Line was now under Warner.
And Warner wanted The Lord of the Rings to go for the Oscars.
When Isabella heard that, she almost died laughing.
Two weeks ago, Warner treated The Lord of the Rings like a diseased stray.
Now they wanted to push it for Best Picture?
Oh—capitalism, you ugly little beast.
Honestly, Isabella didn't care if The Lord of the Rings won or not.
But when she heard Warner was campaigning for it, she called Barry Meyer.
"Barry, are you a hundred percent sure about this Oscar thing?"
"Well… if the film's strong and the buzz is right, then yes, we're a hundred percent sure. Take The Lord of the Rings, for example. Our campaign slogan is 'You only live once—vote now.' We're playing on nostalgia, tying it to the voters' own youth. So… why do you ask?"
Because, yeah—Oscar voters are human.
They have feelings. They had their own youthful years.
And if most of them grew up loving Tolkien's books, and this Return of the King was the grand finale…
Then not voting for it would feel like letting their youth die.
So in this game, Warner had a 99.99% chance to win.
As long as they weren't playing a Tencent game.
Cynical as it was, history is written by the winners.
"Okay then, Barry. You owe me two Oscars now."
"…"
Barry Meyer nearly choked.
He knew Isabella wanted an Oscar, but two?
When he finally asked, she replied,
"Because I want Best Actress and Best Picture."
"The first proves I can act. The second proves I can produce."
"…"
Barry inhaled slowly. "Fine. If you say so… I've got no argument."
"Ehehe~"
Isabella hung up, grinning.
Alright—her Oscar progress was now 2 out of 4.
The "2" she already had were Rowling and Warner.
The missing two represented Disney… and Spielberg.
In her past life, people said the Weinstein brothers were the biggest Oscar power players. But in truth, the man most thanked on Oscar night was always Spielberg. The Weinsteins were a distant second.
The press just didn't dare say it aloud.
Even if Isabella's name wasn't on this year's Oscar list, she was still all over the Grammys—held every early spring.
Unlike the Oscars, which ran on the calendar year, the Grammys used the U.S. fiscal year:
October 1, 2002 to September 30, 2003.
That's why The Voice movie, which exploded in 2002, hadn't made it into last year's nominations—it just fell outside the cutoff.
But that didn't matter.
At her current level of fame, the Grammys wouldn't dare snub her.
If they did, angry fans would burn the place down.
So when the nominations dropped, Isabella naturally dominated:
"Party in the U.S.A." — Nominated for Record of the Year "The Climb" — Nominated for Best Song Written for Visual Media "Love Story" — Nominated for Best Country Song "The Voice: Original Soundtrack" — Nominated for Best Compilation Soundtrack for Visual Media Mini album Isabella Haywood — Nominated for Best Recording Package Isabella Haywood herself — Nominated for Best New Artist
Yes—the Grammys gave her six nominations at once.
And according to the Recording Academy staff who delivered the invitations, she was expected to win five of them.
Except for the Grammy Award for Best Original Score going to The Lord of the Rings, everything else belonged to her.
And as for that…
Isabella didn't really react.
Because she wasn't planning to attend the Grammys at all.
"What?"
"You're saying you're not going to the Grammys?"
Morning of January 19, 2004.
Isabella was in the car with Rowling, heading to Warner Bros.
Rowling was going to attend a Goblet of Fire script discussion.
Isabella was tagging along just to listen in.
Yes~
Even though Rowling had previously made that bold declaration—that the end of the celebration banquet marked the start of new work—well…
That was just talk for the kids.
The end of the banquet really meant the start of the New Year holidays. Hardly anyone worked while families were still celebrating.
So everyone went on vacation.
Maybe it was because Isabella had hosted Rowling first, or maybe Rowling just really liked her. In any case, while everyone else dispersed, they didn't. For the past half month, their families had been vacationing together in Hawaii—and Rowling had paid for it.
The whole experience was delightful…
Well, when you have money, anything you do is delightful.
So, feeling refreshed, they could now chat about work in a light tone.
"Oh~ because I can't be bothered to go~"
Rowling's question made Isabella yawn lazily and lean back in her seat.
"Can't be bothered?"
Rowling frowned slightly, not quite understanding.
"Yeah."
Isabella nodded. "Award shows are a hassle. You have to wear fancy clothes, take a limo, walk the red carpet. I mean, sure, I'm used to that, since premieres have the same process. But premieres and award shows aren't the same, are they?"
"At a premiere, you watch a movie—you can relax in your seat."
"But at an award show, it's all about appearances. Imagine sitting upright for hours in an evening gown, smiling the whole time. Wow~"
"That's basically a death sentence."
She made a little "kill me now" face.
Her adorable expression made Rowling burst out laughing.
"Oh—Isa—you really are—" Rowling shook her head, amused.
After a pause, she added, "So you're not going to the Brit Awards either? They'll probably give you a trophy there too."
The Brit Awards—essentially the UK's version of the Grammys—are also held early in the year.
With the nominations announced, they had sent Isabella an invitation as well, clearly stating—
She was last year's Best New Artist (UK),
and Love Story was Song of the Year.
But—
"I'm not going to that one either."
Isabella shook her head decisively.
"Also because you're lazy?"
Rowling's lips curved, her eyes glinting knowingly.
That perceptive look made the girl pout. "Okay, Auntie Anne, fine, the truth is…"
"The reason I'm not going to any award shows is because I haven't attended a single one so far."
"So, if I ever do go, the first one I attend has to be a 'family' one."
Rowling burst out laughing.
Isabella's words might have been roundabout, but Rowling got it.
The girl meant that if she'd already been to all sorts of award ceremonies before, then going to the Grammys or the Brits now would be no big deal.
And all that stuff about sitting for hours in a gown being "tiring"? Pure nonsense.
At this point, attending an award show would just be for the prestige, and no one feels tired when they're showing off.
But since she'd never shown up at one before…
The first award ceremony she would attend had to be the British Academy Film Awards.
Why?
Because she wanted to.
And if you pressed further, well—let's just say it's under royal jurisdiction.
When Isabella used "their" platform, and the people in charge invited her to attend even though she never usually went to ceremonies—that was power in its purest form.
Not an overstatement at all.
Life's about face, after all.
And it wasn't about flattery either.
If someone helps you, what's wrong with showing them a little appreciation? Right?
Since all of this was tacitly understood, Rowling didn't dig deeper.
They continued chatting idly—about things like the Emmys.
When she heard that the Emmys were held every September, and that Robert Iger had already guaranteed The Voice would win Best Variety Show and Best Competition Program, and that Party in the U.S.A. would take Best Theme Song and Best Music, Rowling's smile grew even wider.
Amidst the chatter, the car finally reached Warner Bros.
Nathan Bailey had been waiting at the entrance.
He led them into the conference room.
There, they greeted Warner Bros. president Alan Horn, Harry Potter producer David Heyman, director Chris Columbus, and screenwriter Steve Kloves. Then, the meeting officially began.
Preparations for The Goblet of Fire had already started long ago.
At present, the project was "almost finished—but not quite."
"Almost finished" because everything related to costumes and props was done.
For example, Beauxbatons' uniforms—the French wizarding school—had been finalized and approved.
And Cho Chang's casting had begun last year, with Katie Leung already chosen.
But "not quite finished" because the script still hadn't been finalized.
Yes, even though it was already early 2004.
And with filming scheduled for spring or summer…
The Goblet of Fire script still wasn't done.
Truly… astonishing.
The reason was simple.
After some discussion, Columbus suddenly raised his voice:
"Okay, okay, here's my stance—I can't accept this version of the script. Too much has been cut! It's nothing like the book! If you insist on shooting it this way, then I can't guarantee the final result!"
"But this is already the best version after over fifty revisions!"
Screenwriter Steve Kloves slammed the table. "Chris, I've already done my best to keep everything connected!"
"The cuts were necessary because—"
He paused, glanced at Rowling, and seeing her expression unchanged, went on shouting at Columbus:
"Because Goblet of Fire is too long! It's seven hundred and thirty-four pages, you know?"
"It's impossible to fit all that into one movie!"
"Not even God could do it!"
"That's why I suggested splitting Goblet of Fire into two parts—Part One and Part Two!"
At that, Columbus immediately turned toward Alan Horn and David Heyman. "If we make it two films, the story would be told perfectly! And it wouldn't even be hard—just like The Matrix Reloaded and Revolutions! We could shoot the whole thing at once, edit it, and release both in the same year!"
"I think that'd be fantastic!"
"So… what do you think?"
Yes—
The reason the Goblet of Fire script couldn't be finalized was that Columbus wanted to split it into two films.