Hollywood's got plenty of industry vets, but true legends? Those are rare. Roy Disney, though—he's a legend among legends. Maybe he doesn't have the star power of Marlon Brando or Paul Newman, but his clout in the biz has never faded. After all, he's Walt Disney's nephew—the co-founder of the Disney empire! So, naturally, when dealing with a young hotshot like Dunn, Roy couldn't help but pull rank.
What he didn't expect was that Dunn couldn't care less about seniority. Respect for Roy Disney? Zero.
Roy had spent a long time brushing Dunn off, so Dunn sure as hell wasn't about to play nice now. You don't return a slight? That's just rude!
When Dunn flat-out rejected Roy's meeting request, it pissed Roy off. But here's the thing: Roy's got the name, not the power. He couldn't do much about Dunn. Even Disney's big boss, Michael Eisner, couldn't tame Dunn—what chance did Roy, the number two, have?
His only shot was Disney's upcoming animated flick, Atlantis: The Lost Empire. Roy might not run the show anymore, but he's still the nominal head of animation. If that movie crushed it at the box office, he'd have some leverage in his next face-off with Dunn. Especially since Dunn Films' summer blockbuster Unsinkable was losing steam after four weeks, looking like it might get overtaken by Paramount's Tomb Raider.
Unsinkable had already trounced Pearl Harbor at the box office. If Atlantis pulled off a killer haul, it wouldn't just knock Dunn down a peg—it'd give Roy a chance to flex on Eisner inside Disney and reclaim some authority.
But… Tomb Raider wasn't living up to the hype. Adapted from the game, its biggest draw was Angelina Jolie. Beyond that? It was a mess.
- Boston Globe: "Sure, Tomb Raider is as tiresome as most films of its kind, but Angelina Jolie adds some spark."
- Washington Post: "It's all noise, clichés, emptiness, chaos, blandness, monotony—violence without blood and sexiness without sex."
- The Hollywood Reporter: "Angelina Jolie's tight T-shirt outshines the action scenes."
- Film Review: "The story's told with zero credibility—not just because it's unoriginal, but because the director didn't bother with plot or characters. Most action flicks don't hold up to logic, but a good story can prop up the fights or make up for weak ones. If the story and characters suck, all eyes are on the action—and that's where it falls flat."
Bottom line: contrary to what the analysts predicted, Tomb Raider didn't beat Unsinkable in its second week. It tanked hard. Monday: $3.01 million. Tuesday: $3.01 million. Wednesday: $2.84 million. Thursday: $2.71 million. Four weekdays, just $13.6 million. Unsinkable, even with its own drop-off, still cleared $15 million in the same stretch.
June 22nd, Friday—weekend time! Disney's Atlantis: The Lost Empire hit theaters with a bang, while Dunn Films dropped another action flick, Mr. & Mrs. Smith. For Unsinkable, Dunn Films and Universal had pulled out all the stops—every resource, every trick, even Dunn doing a rare media interview—to take on Disney. Mr. & Mrs. Smith, though? It was like the neglected stepchild. Promo was thin, conditions were shaky, and director Luc Besson had griped to Dunn about it more than once.
No helping it—Dunn Films and Universal just didn't have the muscle of the other giants. Universal's parent, Vivendi? Forget it. They were too busy dreaming big to focus on running things properly or backing Universal. Instead, they were out there splashing cash like madmen. After last year's $34 billion Seagram buyout, they dropped $2.2 billion on Houghton Mifflin in May, then $37.2 billion on MP3.com, the world's biggest online music site. Now, rumor had it they were eyeing the cable TV game, sniffing around American Movie Classics.
Even the chest-thumping U.S. media was crying, "We dodged the Japanese tiger only to get the French wolf!"
Dunn had been quietly tracking Vivendi's every move. He'd had his eye on chunks of their entertainment division for a while. This reckless spending spree? Music to his ears. Vivendi was already $20 billion in the hole—add an AMC buyout, and that'd climb past $30 billion. Next year, when the indigestion hit and their massive losses went public, Vivendi would crash. To dodge bankruptcy, they'd have to unload assets to pay debts—prime time for Dunn to swoop in and scoop up the scraps.
Compared to a play that big, this box office squabble barely registered. But for an old-school heavyweight like Roy Disney, it was everything—he watched the numbers like a hawk.
June 22nd, Friday:
- Tomb Raider: $6.27 million
- Unsinkable: $9.5 million
- Mr. & Mrs. Smith: $20.81 million
- Atlantis: The Lost Empire: $4.8 million
June 23rd, Saturday:
- Tomb Raider: $7.08 million
- Unsinkable: $11.27 million
- Mr. & Mrs. Smith: $28.43 million
- Atlantis: The Lost Empire: $6.75 million
June 24th, Sunday:
- Tomb Raider: $5.68 million
- Unsinkable: $8.96 million
- Mr. & Mrs. Smith: $25.84 million
- Atlantis: The Lost Empire: $5.14 million
When Roy saw those numbers, he nearly keeled over. He'd played it safe, figuring Mr. & Mrs. Smith—despite its weak promo—had Mel Gibson's star power and Dunn's oversight, so it wouldn't flop. He'd already written off competing with it, just hoping to edge out Unsinkable. But Atlantis pulling a measly $16.69 million opening weekend? That movie cost $120 million—$20 million more than Mr. & Mrs. Smith! Losing to Smith was one thing—he could stomach that. But Unsinkable, in its fifth week, raked in $29.73 million that weekend, hitting over $45 million for the week in North America, absolutely crushing Atlantis. Worse still, Tomb Raider—panned by critics—managed $19.03 million, outpacing Disney's prized animation.
Even Paramount could dunk on Disney's animation crown jewel. For Roy, an old-timer, it was exhausting.
He skipped breakfast. After getting the latest box office stats that morning, he sat alone in his study, staring into space, hit with a heavy wave of reflection. Sure, Michael Eisner had stripped him of authority at Disney, but Roy's sense of belonging to the company ran deeper than Eisner's ever would. Disney was built on animation, yet now its animated films were flopping—a twilight-of-an-era kind of gloom. Pixar was killing it with computer animation. DreamWorks, riding Shrek's success, had turned things around after buying Pacific Data Images last year and dropping their first CG hit. Disney's hand-drawn 2D era—Roy's era—was dead.
"Traditional 2D animation is officially gone," Roy sighed.
Pixar had gone all-in on computers. DreamWorks' Shrek proved the shift worked. Meanwhile, Dunn Films' subsidiary, Sillywood Animation, had snapped up Digital Domain for $20 million—a move Roy had mocked as a rich-kid splurge. Now? It looked like genius.
Roy had to admit defeat. He'd been hammering Eisner's movie flops at board meetings, but his own animation division getting the cold shoulder stung just as bad—a slap in the face. Still, he was convinced Eisner wasn't fit to lead Disney anymore. The company needed new blood. With no juice left internally, outside help was key. Across Hollywood, plenty wanted Eisner gone, but only one guy had the chops to make it happen: Dunn Walker.
Yeah, Dunn had been a jerk lately, but for Disney's long-term good, Roy had to swallow it. He took a deep breath, caved, and dialed Dunn.
"Mr. Disney? Didn't think I'd hear from you!" Dunn said, fresh off the latest box office numbers and in a great mood. Mr. & Mrs. Smith had pulled $75.08 million over the weekend—short of $100 million but enough to dethrone Unsinkable's three-week reign as champ.
Roy forced a chuckle. "Today's… nice out. How about we sit down somewhere and chat?"
Dunn glanced out the window at the dark clouds rolling in, nearly laughing. His confidence spiked. "How about my office?"
Roy's temper flared—he almost snapped. He was the elder, the vet! Dunn expecting him to come crawling was a total lack of manners. "My position makes that tricky," Roy said, swallowing his rage. "How about this: there's a spot on Vine Street, between Sunset and Sycamore. A cool old place, been around forever. Run by a sweet old couple—hand-roasted coffee, great stuff."
Dunn smirked, playing along. "Sure, works for me."