On November 20, 1997, the weekend before Thanksgiving, the attention of Hollywood and the entire American entertainment industry was focused on the Hollywood Chinese Theatre. Among the emotions present were curiosity, anticipation, waiting, and blessings, but more than anything, there was mockery. Two years ago, the colossal failure of Waterworld had set an almost $200 million production budget record, and now Titanic officially raised that record to $200 million. Many were waiting for this grand production to sink just like the ship that departed from Portsmouth for New York.
However, no matter how much those envious, jealous, and hateful individuals cursed it in their hearts, they couldn’t change the fact that this ship was drawing attention. Hundreds of media outlets and over 500 journalists gathered in front of the Chinese Theatre. Fox and Columbia Television Networks broadcasted the red carpet premiere live. A slew of A-list and B-list stars walked down the red carpet one after another.
A successful premiere doesn’t necessarily mean a film will succeed, but a star-studded event can attract more attention. The three major investors in the film—Paramount Pictures, 20th Century Fox, and Duke Studios—pulled out all the stops.
As Tom Hanks and his wife walked down the carpet, Naomi Watts followed shortly after. Then Tom Cruise and his wife made their appearance. ICM’s two leading female stars, Julia Roberts and Jennifer Aniston, also arrived one after another.
The shutters of the reporters’ cameras clicked nonstop, and the cheers of the audience never ceased. An unprecedented blockbuster had brought an equally unprecedented premiere. Follow current novels on 𝔫𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔩⁂𝖿𝗂𝗋𝖾⁂𝔫𝔢𝔱
Of course, how many of the attendees were there to witness the potential failure of the three major investors and James Cameron? Only God knows.
"I have only one viewpoint."
In the VIP lounge, Duke said to Tom Hanks and his wife, "Those who mocked this film will soon realize the magnitude of their mistake."
Tom Hanks chuckled. "You seem more confident than James Cameron himself."
"Because I have $50 million of my own money invested in it," Duke shrugged. "How did the critics mock me? Hollywood’s biggest fool! I wonder what they’ll think once the film is taken out of theaters worldwide."
The film’s quality was no worse than before, and its publicity efforts were even stronger. Duke believed the movie would crush the critics’ egos, just like Star Wars.
Moreover, this film wouldn’t just achieve a major box office victory. It would also usher in the true globalization of Hollywood and open many previously closed doors to Hollywood films.
Film history could truly be divided into Before Titanic and After Titanic. Before, European cinema and Hong Kong films were still struggling to stave off decline. After, European and Hong Kong cinema completely fell into decay, barely surviving under the shadow of the CGI-era blockbusters. The latter would soon be reduced to mere relics.
"Hey, Tom. Hey, Nicole."
After greeting another Tom, Duke remembered an investment project he hadn’t been paying much attention to recently. "Has Mission: Impossible finished filming?"
"It’s done!" Tom Cruise exuded confidence.
"Have you set a release date?" That was what Duke cared about the most.
"Next summer. No specific date yet," Tom Cruise furrowed his brow. "I heard your new film is scheduled for May?"
"So, Tom, here’s my suggestion."
As their collaboration deepened, Duke had gotten used to Tom Cruise’s eccentricities. With shared interests at stake, this wasn’t the time for conflict. "May already has a packed schedule with many films. It’s very crowded. I suggest releasing it in June."
"I’m thinking the same thing."
Though occasionally arrogant and self-centered, Tom Cruise wasn’t foolish. "I’m looking for the best weekend in June. Once it’s decided, I’ll let you know immediately."
"I’ll be waiting for the good news."
Regarding Mission: Impossible, aside from his investment, Duke hadn’t interfered much. He only had a financial supervisor and a producer representing him on set. Following his instructions, as long as his interests weren’t compromised, these individuals would fully support Tom Cruise.
Cruise had invested $40 million in the project and wanted the film to succeed more than anyone else.
"A big shot just arrived."
Suddenly, Tom Cruise tapped Duke’s arm. "Seems like he’s here for you. I’d rather not deal with him. I’ll head to the theater first."
With that, Cruise decisively turned around and left with Nicole Kidman.
Duke turned and saw the person approaching—a true heavyweight: Michael Ovitz, the former king of CAA, the retired CEO of Walt Disney, and now the owner of Artist Management Group.
"Long time no see, Duke."
"Yes, Michael, it’s been a while."
Perhaps due to habits formed in the ’90s, even though his status in Hollywood had declined, Michael Ovitz’s smile still radiated competence and intelligence. This legendary agent, the most famous in Hollywood history, was not someone to underestimate, even in his less glorious days.
"I heard you have high hopes for this film?" he asked.
Duke smiled and gave his usual standard answer, "I have $50 million invested in it. Of course, I’m optimistic."
Michael Ovitz nodded and cut to the chase. "Interested in working with me?"
"In film?" Duke probed.
"Film is just one aspect." Michael Ovitz looked directly at him. "I want to be your full-time agent. Interested?"
So, he was here to poach him. Duke instantly understood and shook his head. "Michael, you must know why I declined CAA back then."
"No bundled services. You will always be my god," Michael Ovitz said without hesitation. "I’m merely your service provider. You can do anything within the bounds of the law, and the company won’t interfere at all."
Duke frowned and considered briefly. "What you’re describing doesn’t sound much different from my current situation."
Just like how Steven Spielberg relied on CAA, Duke was immensely important to ICM. Directors at his level were not subject to agency restrictions.
Hearing this voice, Duke smiled. Nancy Josephson strode quickly to his side, speaking bluntly to Michael Ovitz, "Do you think ICM is stupid enough to restrain Duke? Oh, by the way, I recently met Martin. I think I should schedule another breakfast with him."
Duke knew that the "Martin" Nancy mentioned was Martin Scorsese.
"This is just business as usual."
Thick skin was a basic requirement for agents. Michael Ovitz’s expression remained unchanged as he calmly threw out a provocation. "I heard ICM still takes a 7% commission from Duke? I just think that’s quite unfair."
Nancy immediately caught his meaning and smiled. "We’ve just prepared a new contract for Duke. The commission will drop to 5%."
"Congratulations, Duke." Michael Ovitz turned to him. "After all these years, you’re finally getting a contract that matches your status and position."
"Thank you." Duke replied indifferently.
Michael Ovitz didn’t leave immediately. Instead, he brought up the topic of films. "I heard your new movie is scheduled for May next year? One week earlier than the project I’m representing, Godzilla?"
"That’s correct." Duke’s expression remained unchanged.
"Looks like we’ll have an indirect clash," Michael Ovitz said confidently. "I hope your new film is strong enough to withstand a monster’s impact."
"Does Duke’s sci-fi need your concern, Michael?" Nancy Josephson interjected. "A monster movie? I’d love to see how that monster meets its end next summer."
Having spearheaded the Godzilla project, Ovitz was brimming with confidence. "Nancy, I think you’re ignoring one fact. With two successful Jurassic Park films, a monster movie craze has already formed in North America. This trend won’t change due to individual opinions. A creature scarier than dinosaurs will push this craze to its peak!"
Nancy hesitated. Even she had to admit that Michael Ovitz was correct. Ever since Jurassic Park’s success, North America had indeed seen a monster craze, which only intensified with this year’s sequel.
Michael Ovitz nodded at Duke and left without another word.
"Duke..." Nancy Josephson looked at him, seemingly worried. "I think he made a valid point."
"Very valid," Duke agreed. He knew just how powerful dinosaur movies were. "But Michael Ovitz overlooked one crucial detail."
Waving her off, Duke headed toward the theater. As she followed, he explained, "The xenophobia of the North American market! Monster movie trends do exist, but the monster needs to be native to North America to achieve maximum impact."
He turned to Nancy with a smile. "Don’t forget, dear. Godzilla isn’t a North American creation."
Prompted by this reminder, Nancy gradually understood. "Japanese culture does have a market in North America, but it has never been mainstream."
Shaking off her slight worry, Nancy shifted the topic to Duke’s agency contract. "Have your lawyer negotiate with ICM as soon as possible."
She understood Duke’s temperament. As long as she performed well, her employer wouldn’t switch agencies or agents.
The two entered the Chinese Theatre’s auditorium but didn’t take the front-row seats reserved for the crew. Instead, they sat in the back rows among the guests. On the screen, a giant ship was slowly setting sail for the world!