[TL/N: If you wish to avoid spoilers, please skip the next chapter. I'll upload my character sheets, notes.]
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Hearing Simon's demand, Peter Sanders nearly blurted out: Do you even know what a producer does?
The average person's impression of Hollywood filmmakers often revolves around big stars or big directors. But in reality, since the rise of the American film industry in the early twentieth century, Hollywood has always been producer-centered.
Except for a very few exceptionally powerful directors and stars, in most cases, the one with the ultimate authority on a film set is the producer—they're the final decision-makers steering the creative direction of a movie.
Even those powerful directors and stars, to exert their influence on a film, often need to take on a producer credit, which still doesn't break the producer-centric system.
Simon watched Peter Sanders' shifting expressions, waited patiently for a moment, then said, "Peter, I know what you're thinking. But since I've already completed Run Lola Run, I can naturally handle Final Destination just as well. And there's no one in Hollywood who knows better than I do what kind of movie Final Destination should be."
Peter Sanders composed himself slightly. "In that case, Simon, why not direct it yourself? Orion should be flexible about that."
"Because it's not worth it. I want to focus my main energy on films that interest me more. But Final Destination is my script, and I want to personally oversee its production."
Peter Sanders thought for a bit, then shook his head. "Simon, you know how Hollywood works. Fox won't hand over control of a film to a young guy like you."
Simon shrugged indifferently. "In that case, maybe other studios will agree."
Peter Sanders was momentarily speechless.
The contract Simon had signed with Fox, at its core, was just a right of first refusal. With Run Lola Run's box office exploding, Simon's fame was soaring—Hollywood studios would surely break the unspoken agreement on such options for the sake of profit.
If other studios agreed to let Simon take full control, and Fox wouldn't match, they'd have to pass.
Fox had already passed on Run Lola Run; if they passed on Final Destination too, and it succeeded wildly, Fox would become the laughingstock of Hollywood.
After a brief hesitation, Peter Sanders asked, "Simon, what are your terms?"
"Including producer, writer, and other roles, I just need a $1 base salary," Simon said, not waiting for Peter Sanders to react before continuing. "But after release, I want 10% of the North American box office gross and 5% of videotape sales revenue. TV broadcast rights have too long a cycle—I won't touch those."
Hearing the $1 base salary, Peter Sanders already looked surprised. By the time Simon finished his follow-up terms, his expression had turned to astonishment.
This kid really had the nerve to ask for the Sun.
Peter Sanders had heard clearly: Simon wasn't asking for profit shares, which left room for maneuvering, but straight gross percentages from box office and videotape sales.
In all of Hollywood, probably only Spielberg dared demand terms like that right now.
After staring blankly for dozens of seconds, Peter Sanders said, "Simon, that's impossible."
Simon watched Peter Sanders' eyes nearly bulge out and made a calming gesture. "Peter, actually, I've already had someone prepare a simple budget estimate based on my vision for the project. Hand Final Destination to me, and $8 million will cover it. As for marketing costs, that's whatever you say it is. And I don't have the energy to calculate the break-even point. So let's keep it simple: We'll base the North American gross on twice the production cost—$16 million. With Fox ensuring the release date, screen count, and promo spend, if the North American gross falls below $16 million, I take just the $1. If it exceeds $16 million, my compensation follows the terms I just laid out."
Peter Sanders calmed a bit hearing this.
But then, thinking of Run Lola Run's projected gross likely topping $160 million in North America, he quickly shook his head. "Simon, if you want those percentages, $16 million isn't enough—at least $50 million."
Based on his memories and the buzz from Run Lola Run, Simon's own North American expectation for Final Destination was indeed around $50 million. But in this world, movies were the hardest business to predict success in—he wasn't about to set such a high bar for himself.
Moreover, with an $8 million budget, as long as Final Destination hit $10 million domestically, Fox could easily turn a profit through overseas distribution, videotape sales, and TV rights.
Simon's $16 million guarantee was already quite high.
"Peter, if I remember right, of the sixteen films Fox released last year, only five grossed over $10 million. Others like Kate Capshaw's SpaceCamp—$20 million budget, $9.69 million domestic. Sean Connery's The Name of the Rose—same $20 million budget, $7.15 million domestic. The Manhattan Project—$18 million budget, $3.9 million domestic. See, you poured big money into so many flops—why not invest a little less in a film with real guarantees?"
Peter Sanders' mouth twitched at the mention of SpaceCamp, wondering if the kid was doing it on purpose, but he immediately countered, "Simon, before a movie releases, no one can guarantee success."
Simon nodded. "Of course, Peter. But I can guarantee that if it fails, I take just $1—not $5 million."
Peter Sanders insisted, "Simon, Hollywood's full of people willing to take $1 for a chance."
"Based on Run Lola Run's box office, let's look back three years: '86's Top Gun, '85's Back to the Future, '84's Beverly Hills Cop. So, do you think Tom Cruise would take $1, or Robert Zemeckis, or Eddie Murphy?" Simon stared at Peter Sanders, then stood. "Peter, those are my terms. You can discuss with Mr. Goldberg—best to give me an answer next week. Oh, and the motel's booked out by the crew—if you're staying tonight, I can have someone prep a room for you."
With that, Simon called over the waiter, paid the bill, and left.
Peter Sanders didn't get up, still sitting in the coffee shop, frowning in thought. He'd rushed over on a Saturday afternoon not just to discuss the Final Destination contract but also to build a rapport with this rising Hollywood newcomer, planning to stay in Coolidge for a couple days.
But recalling Simon's assertiveness in their conversation, Peter Sanders realized sticking around wouldn't accomplish much.
As for Simon's terms, now that he'd cooled down, he saw they weren't strictly unreasonable.
Though too young, though he'd only made one film, though that film's success had some luck involved—the projected gross for Run Lola Run was just too staggering. Even if it didn't claim the North American crown this year, breaking $100 million would qualify Simon to demand those rates.
Peter Sanders also knew that, riding the buzz from Run Lola Run, this fresh, commercially potent horror flick Final Destination could easily hit $16 million domestic.
And even aiming higher—if it reached $50 million—Simon's box office cut would be just $5 million. Sean Connery got $5 million for The Name of the Rose, which barely cleared $7 million domestic and left Fox in the red.
Of course, there was also the 5% videotape sales cut—a hefty ask. The WGA's basic agreement gave screenwriters just 0.3% of post-theatrical videotape revenue.
In 1986 alone, Hollywood's videotape sales had surpassed domestic box office. Add that hot horror films typically outperformed other genres on tape, and Simon's 5% could match his 10% box office share.
But.
What Peter Sanders couldn't ignore was that Simon's demands were all predicated on guaranteeing Fox a profit.
Fairly speaking, it was equitable.
Peter Sanders just struggled to accept an eighteen-year-old barging into Hollywood's top tier so quickly, joining the ranks on equal footing with him.
It was simply too hard to swallow.
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