Dunn had already locked down most of Hollywood's future big IPs. He'd even written outlines for a bunch of top-tier TV shows and registered them with the Writers Guild.
Only two mega-IPs were still out of his grasp: Star Wars and the live-action remakes of Disney's princess classics.
Star Wars could wait—George Lucas would sell Lucasfilm eventually as he got older.
As for Disney's live-action remakes of their classic animations…
Dunn had been scheming for a while.
He was dead set on snagging them!
Neither Michael Eisner nor Roy Disney could stop him!
The reason? Simple: Pixar.
Back in 1994, Disney hit a rough patch. President Frank Wells died in a helicopter crash, Jeffrey Katzenberg and Bill Mechanic jumped ship, and Disney's film division—especially animation—took a nosedive.
Right now, Disney Animation Studios had axed 90% of its artists. The company's animation wing was basically on life support, propped up by Pixar.
Put plainly, Pixar was Disney's most sensitive—and weakest—nerve.
And wouldn't you know it, Dunn was Pixar's second-biggest shareholder!
Geographically, Pixar wasn't even a Hollywood outfit—it was Silicon Valley through and through.
It started out in software and hardware R&D, servicing Steve Jobs's NeXT computers. Animation? That was a happy accident.
Dunn made a special trip to San Francisco to meet Jobs at Pixar's headquarters.
"No wonder Pixar's films are so creative," Dunn said as Jobs showed him around the newly built campus, a whimsical design straight out of a storybook. "This place feels like a fairy tale. If Disney had a setup like this, they'd never run out of ideas."
John Lasseter, Pixar's animation guru and de facto head, tagged along, brimming with pride. "Disney's cartoons are yesterday's news! It's Pixar and DreamWorks Animation running the show now."
Dunn smirked. "DreamWorks Animation? If it weren't for Shrek, Katzenberg would've gone bust!"
Lasseter's expression tightened. "Nah, he just needed time to shift from hand-drawn to computer animation."
Dunn grinned. "Speaking of, I hear Disney's pushing a renewal deal?"
Jobs's face darkened. "I shot it down!"
"What'd they offer?"
Dunn didn't need to tiptoe—he was Pixar's number-two shareholder and had every right to know the business.
Lasseter explained, "They want five more films. After marketing and distribution costs, profits split fifty-fifty."
Dunn snorted. "How generous!"
A fifty-fifty split was a big step up from their current deal.
Right now, Pixar and Disney split profits 40-60.
Even 40% was a hefty chunk!
Take Monsters, Inc., which hit theaters last November. North American box office: $240 million. Overseas: $270 million. Global total: over $500 million.
And the merch? Insane!
A month after release, it raked in $300 million in tie-in sales!
That's the Disney brand at work.
Their consumer products division and Disney Store channels turned Pixar films into a full upstream-to-downstream goldmine.
So far, Pixar had pocketed $180 million from Monsters, Inc.!
And that was just the start.
Within three years, they projected $300 million from that one project.
That's why Pixar's stock soared—and why DreamWorks Animation later fetched over $3 billion at bankruptcy auction.
But rarity drives value. Pixar wasn't the same outfit it used to be, and Jobs wasn't about to settle for a weak 40-60 split.
Jobs sneered, "That's not all. Eisner thinks a profit split is Pixar getting the better end! He wants Disney to keep sequel rights and own the trademarks for consumer products!"
Dunn's face hardened. "No way! We can't budge an inch on copyright!"
Jobs nodded coolly. "Obviously. My terms are simple: I'm fine with a profit split, but Pixar keeps full copyright on the films—including distribution."
Dunn smirked, shaking his head like it was a bad joke.
Jobs was sharp. He'd clocked Dunn's angle the second he suggested meeting at Pixar. "Dunn, you know Pixar's gotta prioritize Pixar's interests."
Dunn frowned. "Steve, how do you not see it? Maybe hit up Hollywood and ask around—Disney or Dunn Films, which one's the future?"
Jobs chuckled. "Dunn Films is the future? Fine. When that day comes, I'll hand Pixar's movies to you to handle."
Lasseter stayed quiet—this was above his pay grade.
The three strolled along Pixar's wooden boardwalk—Jobs's Japanophile touch at work.
Dunn thought for a moment, then said gravely, "Steve, I've finished buying up Apple stock. I've got 16.5% of the company now."
Jobs raised an eyebrow. "I appreciate your help with Apple—and your trust in my work."
Dunn shook his head. "Steve, I need your help."
Jobs's face twisted, uneasy.
Dunn pressed, "I'm negotiating a big deal with Disney right now. I need them to bend."
Jobs's tone sharpened. "You're not suggesting Pixar caves on the renewal to sweeten your Disney deal, are you?"
"Of course not!" Dunn stopped walking, turning to face Jobs. "I just want Pixar to do one thing."
"What?"
"End the Disney contract!"
He'd floated this before, and Jobs was sick of hearing it. His expression soured.
Jobs's temper—anyone who knew him could tell you—was fiercer than Dunn's!
Lasseter jumped in before Jobs blew up, exclaiming, "Mr. Walker, you serious? We've got one film left with Disney! And Finding Nemo's already greenlit—we're about to start working with them."
Finding Nemo was a juggernaut, way bigger than Monsters, Inc.!
For that alone, Dunn didn't want Disney keeping distribution rights.
With Disney in charge, they'd slap Nemo characters all over their theme parks.
Dunn was gearing up to buy Universal Pictures, which had Universal Studios parks of its own.
Pixar films should feed his empire, naturally.
Dunn said calmly, "I'll cover the buyout costs!"
Jobs didn't hesitate. "Dunn, we've been over this. I'm done talking about it. Right now, Disney's the best fit for Pixar."
Dunn shot back, "I've got a film company too! And I'm about to grab Universal! My distribution network's as good as Disney's!"
"You're buying Universal?" Jobs squinted.
Dunn waved it off casually. "Plus, I've got a toy company, and I'm a Hasbro shareholder. I can get Pixar better toy profit splits."
Lasseter hesitated, testing the waters. "Mr. Walker, acquiring Universal… that'll take a while, right? Finding Nemo hits next year, so…"
Dunn went full swagger. "Hand Pixar's films to me—copyright, trademarks, creative control, all yours. I don't want a thing!"
He'd swallow Pixar whole eventually anyway—copyright location didn't matter.
Lasseter's jaw dropped, staring at Jobs in disbelief.
He was a Silicon Valley guy, out of the loop on Hollywood craziness.
This Dunn Walker… he was nuts!
Jobs went quiet, then shook his head. "Dunn, buying out the contract's a rep hit. Breaking promises? Wall Street'll tank us—bad for stock."
Dunn was too ticked to respond.
Stubborn as hell!
Last year, Disney's consumer products arm cleared $2.5 billion. With their in-house animation fading, Pixar was the backbone of that and their interactive entertainment wing.
If Dunn used Pixar to kneecap Disney, it'd be like chopping off an arm.
Michael Eisner's power would crumble overnight.
To fix the mess, Eisner would have to team up with Dunn Films!
Dunn had seen through the businessman's game by now and was used to the backstabbing. Eisner's double-cross? Par for the course.
Don't want to play ball? Fine—Dunn would force him with outside pressure.
Willing or not, Eisner would deal!
But Jobs wouldn't budge!
At Apple, he took a $1 salary—Pixar was his real cash cow. He'd put Pixar first, especially with all those talented animators in the studio.
Truth was, right now, Disney was Pixar's golden ticket. No other studio matched Disney's brand power.
"Disney" practically screamed "kids' entertainment."
Pixar needed that ride to maximize profits.
Dunn? Not yet!
Seeing Dunn's sour look, Jobs added, "As a friend, I've got your back. As long as it doesn't tank Pixar's stock or my rep, I'll help you take on Disney."
Dunn gave a flat "hmph," dripping with sarcasm. "Hope you mean it—don't pull a Wozniak on me."
Jobs flushed, caught off guard and flustered.