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Chapter 184: A Lone Boat
🕑 Added 2025-05-18 22:16:18 +0000 UTCJoe Ruth felt the pressure bearing down on him like a mountain on his shoulders.
In the past, he’d clearly been too optimistic.
He’d thought that being Michael Eisner’s trusted confidant—the big boss at Disney—meant he could charge ahead boldly, wielding sharp tactics and leaning on his recent successes in live-action films to do whatever he pleased.
But after the movie hit theaters, everything flipped.
Inside Disney, the debates wouldn’t stop. People were questioning his major missteps in marketing and distribution.
Even his biggest backer, Michael Eisner, had laid it out cold: if the losses topped 20 million dollars, Joe’s days as head of the production department were over!
Disney’s production department didn’t have just one chair—Michael Eisner loved putting two or three people in charge of a single division, blurring the lines of power and fueling internal rivalries.
Joe shivered, forcing himself to calm down. Only then did he start to remember what kind of man Michael Eisner really was.
Iron-fisted, ruthless, brutal, stubborn as hell, and quick to turn on anyone!
Back when Eisner was hospitalized with a serious illness, undergoing four surgeries, how did he handle Disney? Like some feudal Chinese emperor—he sealed his successor’s name in an envelope, declaring it could only be opened if the surgeries failed.
Back when he clashed with Jeffrey Katzenberg, he fired the guy who’d sparked Disney animation’s second golden age. Not only that, he scrubbed Katzenberg’s name from every animated film he’d worked on and refused to pay out his bonuses.
And when Disney poached Michael Ovitz—the Hollywood heavyweight—from CAA with a fat paycheck, Eisner didn’t hesitate to fork over a 120 million dollar severance package to sack him when their visions didn’t align. Never mind that Ovitz had been instrumental in Disney’s acquisition of the AB Group.
Joe Ruth saw it all clearly now. If the losses were too steep, even with the standout films he’d delivered for Disney over the past few years—like this and that—he’d still be out the door.
Michael Eisner didn’t do favors for anyone!
“Payne, it’s me, Joe.”
Joe hated making this call. He knew pride was worth squat compared to profits. Taking a deep breath, he said, “The screening rates and rollout scale today—they don’t look right, do they?”
Payne, the president of Carmack Theaters in the U.S., chuckled nervously when he heard Joe’s voice. “Old buddy, I almost forgot to mention—ha! You know there’s a new movie out today, right? That One, with Mel Gibson and Phil Daniels. It’s an animated flick the kids are crazy about.”
Joe wasn’t pleased. “Even so, you can’t just squeeze my movie’s screenings like this! It’s a brand-new film—a thrilling action blockbuster!”
Payne smirked to himself.
Not squeeze your screenings? What, cut that one’s instead? He wasn’t dumb!
This was peak season—moviegoers across the country were snapping up tickets like mad. The higher that one’s screening rate, the more the theaters raked in!
As for Joe’s movie… what was that again?
“Heh, it’s not like we had a choice,” Payne said with a fake smile. “Compared to others, it’s not so bad. Paramount’s action flick’s only got a 45% screening rate. Another one is down to 9.2%. Your 10.5%? That’s pretty solid.”
Joe nearly exploded!
How was that the same?
Those had been out for a week already—past their prime. That other one had been running for over a month!
His movie was fresh—only two days in theaters!
“Payne, don’t you think the theater schedules are messed up right now? That one is averaging over 72% of the screenings! All the other big releases are scrapping for less than 30% of the market combined. That’s insane!” Joe’s voice was stiff with barely-contained anger.
Payne rolled his eyes. “Joe, I’m sorry, but that’s just how the market’s going. It’s not my call. Did you know Carmack’s total revenue today—82% of it came from that one? Your movie? Just 8.7%. Theaters have their own rules—I can’t do much about it.”
Joe sucked in a sharp breath. He knew that one was hot, but 82% of the theater chain’s daily haul? That was unreal.
It was almost on par with last year’s big hit.
Now Joe was equal parts furious and regretful.
How had he lost his mind back then, teaming up with Tom Rothman to tweak the release schedule and shove that one aside?
If that one was an aircraft carrier on the open sea, then his movie—and Tom’s—were just flimsy little boats bobbing in its wake. No comparison at all.
Tom’s movie?
Oh, right—Fox’s film was hitting theaters tomorrow.
Tomorrow was Saturday, prime time for a box office boom. If Joe couldn’t claw back some ticket sales now, his movie was toast.
Action flicks didn’t have the legs for a long run!
“Payne, be straight with me. With Tom’s movie dropping tomorrow, you’re tweaking the schedules again, aren’t you?” Joe’s voice was tight with nerves.
Payne didn’t dodge. “Of course. It’s a big release too. Screening rate… probably around 15%.”
Joe jumped in. “And our movie?”
Payne’s tone went flat. “Joe, I get where you’re coming from, but theaters have their rules. We stick to the contracts—no exceptions just because we’re pals, right? That one’s momentum is unstoppable—nobody’s touching it. So any adjustments have to come from the other films.”
The contracts between distributors and theaters were flexible. If a movie tanked too hard, theaters could unilaterally cut its screenings, shrink its scale, or even yank it entirely.
Joe reached out to managers at Regal Cinemas, AMC, Cinemark, and a few others. The answers were all pretty much the same.
It all boiled down to market response.
A box office juggernaut like that one only came around once or twice a year. Theaters were cashing in big-time—why would they let a little personal favor cost them a pile of green?
As for Joe’s movie…
Sorry, man. If it’s just a lone boat on the sea, it’s gotta drift along.
Maybe, just maybe, it could ride the waves from that aircraft carrier and make it back to shore in one piece?
---
With that one hitting theaters, Dunn was bouncing between Universal Pictures and Dunn Films, getting hit with a nonstop stream of good news. He couldn’t have been happier.
Rave reviews! Box office gold!
And that wasn’t even the best part. “Spider-Man” comics were selling out everywhere—Marvel Entertainment was rushing to print more. Plus, licensing deals for all kinds of merch were rolling in left and right.
Before this, Universal had locked in partnerships with big companies for promo—like Coca-Cola’s “Spider-Man” special edition.
Now, it was mostly Marvel cashing in on “Spider-Man” image rights—nothing to do with Universal. That was all Dunn’s profit.
Rough guess? Within a week, Marvel Entertainment could pull in at least 30 million bucks from licensing alone.
That didn’t even count the profit splits from Spider-Man toys, costumes, and the like.
Right then, Universal’s bigwig Ron Meyer dropped by Dunn’s office to talk business.
Universal wanted to bring Marvel’s superheroes into Universal Studios—starting with the Orlando park.
But at this stage, Dunn wasn’t keen on expanding partnerships. He cut to the chase. “Mr. Meyer, Universal just got a new owner. I don’t think now’s the best time for a deal.”
Just last week, France’s Vivendi Group had finalized its takeover of Canada’s Seagram Group.
Universal Pictures was now officially part of this rising French media giant.
Word was, Vivendi planned to go big in entertainment, building a “Universal Entertainment Group” around the brand—covering Universal Music, Universal Games, Universal Films, Universal Publishing, you name it.
And every major division was getting a massive overhaul.
Take Universal Games—home to heavy hitters like Blizzard and Sierra.
Universal Films? Beyond the U.S.-based Universal Pictures, they had Gaumont, France’s biggest film company, and PolyGram, Europe’s second-largest theater chain. They were still on the hunt for more acquisitions, aiming to dominate both sides of the Atlantic.
Ron Meyer caught the jab in Dunn’s tone and sighed. “No matter what, Universal Pictures has nearly a century of history. It’s one of Hollywood’s original Big Eight studios—that’s not changing anytime soon!”
Dunn shook his head. “Not necessarily. Columbia Pictures changed hands, didn’t it?”
Ron’s brow furrowed. “Universal’s doing fine for now. We’re not heading down Columbia’s path.”
Dunn smirked, unimpressed. “After Sony bought Columbia, it’s been bleeding money year after year. If it weren’t for Sony pumping cash in, it’d be worse off than DreamWorks. Asians can’t run Hollywood—and Europeans won’t either!”
Ron chuckled. “Dunn, you’re too pessimistic…”
“No!” Dunn cut him off, dead serious. “Back in the day, Chaplin faced bankruptcy rather than take outside money, just to keep Hollywood independent. But times have changed. MGM’s collapse is proof. As Universal’s president, you’ve got to be ready.”
“It’s not that dramatic, is it?”
“What if it is?”
Dunn stared him down. “You know Vivendi’s rep—buy, restructure, split, sell. They’ve already gutted half of Blizzard’s assets. You think Universal Pictures is safe? Don’t forget MGM lost its golden-age film rights in all that shuffling—over 2,000 titles ended up with Warner!”
