After Peter Sanders hastily returned to Los Angeles on Saturday night, Simon heard nothing from Fox for three straight days.
This outcome didn't surprise Simon; his standing in Hollywood was still too shallow, after all.
A young man not yet twenty, demanding not only hefty profit shares from a major studio but also absolute control over production—such a thing had never happened in Hollywood.
However, with Run Lola Run's box office success, Simon no longer lacked options as he had months ago.
While assisting on the Near Dark set, Simon had privately sketched some plans for Final Destination. This slasher thriller was perfect for the Halloween slot at year's end. From late February to late October, an eight-month prep, production, and promotion cycle fit just right.
Thus, Simon had no intention of tying himself to Fox. If they didn't respond by the weekend, he planned to leak the news and seek other partners.
Meanwhile, fueled by sustained buzz and word-of-mouth, Run Lola Run's second-week gross not only held steady but rose.
From February 20 to 22, the second week's three days saw a 21% increase over the opening four-day weekend, thanks to added screens, reaching $6.69 million.
Then, over the following four weekdays, Run Lola Run's second-week total hit $9.56 million—just behind Platoon's $11.1 million—vaulting it to second on the North American weekly box office chart.
With two of its releases claiming the top two spots, both poised to break $100 million domestically, Orion Pictures was basking in the limelight.
For a film that had become a nationwide talking point like Run Lola Run, further distribution faced no hurdles.
Orion president Mike Medavoy had initially planned a rapid expansion of screens, but after a detailed phone call with Simon, he embraced the "hunger marketing" concept. In the end, for the third week, Orion held back on a massive rollout, bumping screens only to 536, still concentrated on the West Coast.
Years later, after three weeks, a film would either fade in popularity or be swamped by pirated copies, making expansion pointless.
But in the mid-eighties, information spread far slower than in the internet age, piracy wasn't as rampant, and staggered releases from big cities to small towns lingered—often taking one or two months for blockbusters to reach third- or fourth-tier locales.
Thus, three weeks of building buzz felt anything but long for Run Lola Run; it only heightened anticipation.
On the other hand, Simon waited patiently until Friday, but with no word from Fox, he called Jonathan Friedman, tasking his agent to leak that he was seeking partners for Final Destination.
Los Angeles, Beverly Hills.
The date was March 2, Monday.
Fox Studios president Leonard Goldberg entered Morton's restaurant—frequented by Hollywood insiders—in the evening. As soon as he stepped in, he felt the diners' varied glances upon him.
Though inexplicably awkward, Leonard Goldberg acted unfazed, exchanging words with the approaching waiter before being led to a table.
Seated there was a man in his forties, somewhat balding, unremarkable, with the typical prominent Jewish nose. Yet no one in the restaurant would dismiss him for his looks—this was Barry Diller, current chairman and CEO of Twentieth Century Fox.
Noticing Leonard Goldberg approach, Barry Diller—previously scanning a newspaper—rose promptly, stepping forward with a smile to shake hands before they both sat.
After casual chit-chat and ordering dinner, Leonard Goldberg glanced at the paper before Barry Diller: a Los Angeles Herald-Examiner, featuring a prominent butterfly illustration. As an evening paper leaning toward Hollywood industry news, Leonard Goldberg easily guessed it tied to The Butterfly Effect.
Barry Diller followed his gaze to the paper and asked casually, "Heard the test screening didn't go well?"
Leonard Goldberg's tone held hesitation. "Everyone thinks the story's solid and compelling, but the critics at the screening didn't like it—they found the plot too fragmented, the main thread unclear."
Barry Diller frowned slightly. In this era, newspaper reviews shaped public perception; poor critical reception could deter theatergoers.
After a moment's thought, Barry Diller pressed, "So what do you plan to do?"
Leonard Goldberg replied, "We'll hold an internal audience screening Wednesday, then make adjustments based on that. I'm thinking Easter for release—you know, to ride the buzz from Run Lola Run."
His words carried clear bitterness.
A week earlier, Peter Sanders had returned from Arizona with Simon's demands for Final Destination, nearly making Leonard Goldberg laugh in fury.
The kid had some nerve—Leonard bGoldberg had worked in media for thirty years and never seen anyone demand such terms from a studio. Did he think he was Spielberg?
So Leonard Goldberg had simply ignored him.
But with weekend rumors of Simon Westeros shopping Final Destination anew, and this morning's three-day weekend grosses out, Leonard Goldberg wavered.
The rumors aside—as long as Fox didn't budge and forfeit, Simon couldn't deal with others.
But.
Run Lola Run's past three-day figures had turned heads.
In its third week, on 536 screens, the per-theater average still hit $20,110.
Per a Hollywood insider report, recent media frenzy had sparked interest across all ages, especially a viewing craze among teens who deemed Run Lola Run "super cool," often rewatching.
The report even noted that scarce screenings fueled excitement for lining up and grabbing tickets.
Ultimately, the third weekend grossed $10.78 million, easily topping New Line's A Nightmare on Elm Street 3 on 1,343 screens, claiming the weekend box office crown.
To date, Run Lola Run's North American total stood at $27.31 million—a figure most Hollywood films could only envy.
And now atop the weekly chart in a slow season, holding the throne long-term would be effortless.
The number one spot always drew the most eyes.
Already buzzing, sustained weekly wins would draw even more interest, creating a virtuous cycle.
In just two and a half weeks, $27.31 million. If the cycle continued, the final gross might exceed media predictions.
Leonard Goldberg's thoughts halted there, unwilling to dwell further.
Regret gnawed him.
The waiter arrived with dinner, but Barry Diller didn't pick up his utensils, eyeing Leonard Goldberg across the table, momentarily at a loss for words.
Barry Diller and Leonard Goldberg were old acquaintances of twenty years.
It was Leonard Goldberg, then in ABC's production department, who had promoted Barry Diller, paving his path to glory at ABC and Paramount.
Three years ago, when Barry Diller was ousted from Paramount by jealous chairman Martin Davis, Leonard Goldberg's recommendation landed him as chairman and CEO of Twentieth Century Fox.
Twentieth Century Fox oversaw Fox Broadcasting and Fox Studios—Leonard Goldberg had essentially elevated his former subordinate to boss.
Twice the benefactor.
Thus, Barry Diller held deep gratitude.
Yet as Fox Studios head, Leonard Goldberg's performance had been middling; no domestic $100 million grossed in three years.
Due to their bond, Barry Diller wouldn't oust him and rarely meddled in management. But both knew if stagnation persisted, majority owner Rupert Murdoch wouldn't tolerate Fox Studios' tepid state.
After a silence, Barry Diller said, "Leonard, I've heard about that kid—and the weekend rumors."
Leonard Goldberg smiled bitterly. "Barry, do you think I should agree? He's not even twenty, demanding terms even Spielberg wouldn't casually ask."
"But with conditions, right?" Barry Diller noted. "Sixteen million guarantee—low, but with an $8 million budget, Fox profits."
Leonard Goldberg countered, "If it were just that, we could negotiate. But he wants absolute control: director, cast, shooting, final cut—all his call. How can I trust that?"
"I watched Run Lola Run this afternoon," Barry Diller said. "For an 18-year-old, it's remarkably accomplished. So, Leonard, if you confirm he truly maade it himself, maybe agree."
Leonard Goldberg hesitated. "That's verifiable. But Barry, you know—Hollywood's never seen this."
"It could be a promo hook," Barry Diller smiled. "Like his age. Speaking of, that's masterful marketing. Without the 18-year-old angle, it'd gross maybe $10-20 million. Now? $100-200 million. If he planned that too, it's stunning. So, Leonard, I suggest pulling him into Fox—maybe snag a second Spielberg."
Ronald Goldberg heard the advice, knowing it stemmed from goodwill. He admired Barry Diller's vision and acumen—why else yield to him?—and valued his input.
Moreover, he knew his precarious position.
Without quick turnaround at Fox, come contract end next year, he'd be out—and unlikely to land equivalent work elsewhere.
Courting a Hollywood newcomer felt like desperate grasping.
But top directors were locked in stable deals or backlogs—Leonard Goldberg had few options.
Nodding, he said, "Alright, I'll talk to him soon."
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