In the morning, Dunn wrapped up his meeting with Greg Hunter.
By afternoon, he drove over to Dick Clark Productions.
Stepping out of the car, Dunn glanced up at the "Dick Clark" logo hanging on the office building and felt a twinge of annoyance.
Last year, after finalizing the acquisition, he'd wanted to rename the company.
Having his company bear someone else's name? That just didn't sit right with him!
But Bill McNickle and the others had talked him out of it, citing the need to keep things stable.
"Once we've acquired Universal Pictures and restructured everything, I'm definitely changing the name!"
Dunn made a silent vow to himself.
In the past, Dick Clark Productions had controlled the production rights to over 20 awards shows. But as times changed, the "gala" format was falling out of favor with audiences.
Naturally, the company's revenue took a hit.
That is, until Dunn stepped in. With him on board, Dick Clark Productions gained a new business arm—reality TV!
And with American Idol taking off like wildfire, reality shows were poised to become the company's biggest moneymaker going forward.
Dunn had brought jobs to the table, and his personal clout within the company skyrocketed, quickly surpassing that of its founder, Dick Clark himself. Renaming it? That wouldn't be an issue anymore.
Soon enough, Michael Eisner arrived right on schedule. The two of them set off to tour and review the planning and production process for Brain and Brawn Challenge.
Barely half an hour in, Michael Eisner was already singing its praises. "Great—really great! Blending sports with youthful energy? That fits perfectly with Disney and ABC's brand values!"
He'd once turned down CBS's flagship reality show Survivor for ABC because its tense, gritty vibe didn't align with Disney's image.
Brain and Brawn Challenge was different—it was practically tailor-made for ABC!
The sports angle? Fantastic!
ABC's parent group owned ESPN, the biggest sports TV network in the U.S.
And the youthful, fit contestants, paired with a fun, upbeat atmosphere, meshed seamlessly with Disney's spirit.
Michael Eisner was beyond pleased!
Dunn invited him for a stroll in a simple little garden behind the office building. "You probably know," Dunn began, "last year, Six Feet Under landed on Showtime. I'm not forgetting that."
Michael Eisner smiled lightly. "If you hand American Idol over to ABC, along with Brain and Brawn Challenge, I guarantee we'll crush CBS within two years!"
They'd started off as rivals, but now he knew Dunn well. Sumner Redstone had dared to mess with Dunn over Six Feet Under—it was only a matter of time before Dunn got his payback.
Dunn smirked, a faint trace of mockery flickering across his face before he shook his head. "Everything sorted out on Disney's end?"
Michael Eisner replied, "There'll always be some pushback, but it won't derail the big picture. Back when I wanted to buy ABC Group, the resistance was even worse—and didn't I still pull it off?"
Dunn nodded, keeping his tone neutral. "Then let's talk business. This… has dragged on too long."
"No problem."
Michael Eisner looked relaxed.
He'd handled plenty of big projects in his time.
Six years ago, when Disney merged with Capital Cities/ABC, it had taken just a three-man meeting at the Hollywood Country Club with ABC's major shareholder Warren Buffett and chairman Peter Murphy—a quick chat, and the deal was set.
When it came to negotiating, Michael Eisner was a seasoned pro.
Lucky for him, Dunn held the upper hand this time.
At their level, neither would waste time nitpicking over petty details.
The plan was simple: hammer out the broad framework of the partnership, then let their companies' negotiation teams hash out the specifics.
First, Brain and Brawn Challenge would go to the ABC network, with ABC paying 50% of the commercial ad revenue under the broadcast deal.
Second, the remaining rights to The Chronicles of Narnia would be handed over to Disney, free of charge. And if needed, Disney could buy the rights to The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe at a fair price to keep the series' rights intact.
Third, Pixar and Disney would negotiate a contract termination with no penalty fees. The distribution rights for the three animated films Disney had released for Pixar over the past few years would be shared with Pixar.
Fourth, if necessary, Sillywood Animation Studios would assist Disney Animation Studios in transitioning from hand-drawn to computer animation.
And fifth—the big one—the rights to adapt Disney's classic animated films into live-action movies.
In other areas, Dunn made more concessions, especially with the Narnia series rights, which were undeniably valuable right now!
Ten billion dollars wouldn't be cheap, and twenty billion wouldn't be outrageous!
For Dunn to "sacrifice" such a hefty chunk of potential profit, he had to be banking on those classic animated films to make up for it.
This point sparked plenty of back-and-forth between them.
Dunn wanted control over the movies—meaning a bigger stake in the remakes.
Michael Eisner agreed to that. Disney would take just 45% of the investment share, leaving Dunn Films and Rose Pictures with 55%.
But when it came to distribution rights, Michael Eisner wouldn't budge!
What did distribution rights mean?
They determined which company's brand would be front and center when the product hit the public.
Take the iPod: everyone knows it's Apple's brand, but the components inside come from semiconductor companies worldwide.
Those classic animated films were Disney's crown jewels.
They were the bedrock of Disney's $20 billion-plus brand value today!
Disney could compromise on production rights, letting Dunn Films rake in more profits, but on branding? No way—they weren't backing down!
If distribution rights went to Dunn too, those classic films would slip completely out of Disney's grasp.
Disney's brand value would evaporate.
Dunn fell silent for a long moment, his expression reluctant. "Michael, let me say it again—I'm coming into this with full sincerity. But I'd like to see some sincerity from you too."
Michael Eisner lit up with surprise. "Of course, I'm all in for this partnership!"
Dunn said, "I get it—Disney's big on brand value. I'm willing to meet you halfway and let Disney handle distribution for the box office and merchandise markets."
Michael Eisner jumped in, "Done! I agree—Dunn Films can take the distribution rights for the DVD and TV markets."
A movie's brand value shines brightest in theatrical releases, then in merchandise, with DVDs and TV trailing behind.
Who even knows which company's behind a film when it airs on TV?
Dunn shook his head. "Not enough!"
"Hm?"
"Michael, do I really need to spell it out?"
Michael Eisner chuckled.
Dunn giving up box office and merchandise distribution was already a huge concession.
"I want the digital distribution rights!"
"Digital?"
That word felt a million miles away to Michael Eisner, a 60-year-old exec.
He frowned. "That's not a smart move. The internet's a breeding ground for piracy. I don't think films should be distributed online!"
Dunn looked at him, surprised. "Wait—Disney hasn't worked with companies like Yahoo or Comcast on this?"
Right now, plenty of U.S. companies offered on-demand streaming and downloads—Netflix, Viacom, Comcast, Yahoo, you name it—charging about $5 per film.
But the industry was just getting started, and with slow internet speeds, the market was tiny.
Last year, all of Hollywood made just $6.5 million from digital downloads—peanuts.
Piracy, on the other hand, was thriving.
"Of course not! Online downloads just fuel piracy!"
Michael Eisner clearly despised piracy, his face twisting with indignation.
Dunn couldn't help but laugh—and feel a bit exasperated—but mostly, he was thrilled.
Michael Eisner misunderstanding the internet? That was music to his ears.
It meant less arguing to snag those digital rights.
Streaming rights in 2002? Barely worth mentioning. But give it a few years—by 2005, when broadband replaced dial-up worldwide—online video would explode.
That's when YouTube would take off.
And Hulu, the streaming site backed by major film studios, would launch.
Once Netflix jumped into streaming, it'd be unstoppable.
Dunn was playing "known" against "unknown"—a bit unfair, honestly.
But what could he do?
When it came to negotiating chops, ten Dunns couldn't touch Michael Eisner.
Even with Dunn holding all the cards in this deal, he'd still made plenty of compromises. Without his foresight to grab some extra perks, he'd have no chance against a slick veteran like Eisner.
"No way—I need those digital rights!"
Dunn stood firm.
Michael Eisner thought it over briefly and nodded. "Alright, then. For the live-action remakes of the animated films: Disney gets the box office and merchandise distribution rights. Dunn Films gets the DVD, TV, and digital distribution rights."
Dunn smiled faintly. "Perfect! So, just one last thing—trademark rights?"
"What?"
Michael Eisner's eyes shot wide, incredulous.
Trademark rights?
Take Dumbo from Dumbo—that character was created by Disney, and the trademark belonged to them, basically like a patent.
Dunn wanting trademark rights too? That was a lion-sized ask!
Michael Eisner stared at him, stunned.
Dunn laughed it off and waved a hand. "Kidding, relax."
Michael Eisner's forehead creased with exasperation. "Dunn, that's not a funny joke. You've got to understand—if I touched trademark rights today, Roy Disney would have a gun to my head tomorrow!"
"Haha!"
Dunn burst out laughing.
Either way, mission accomplished!
Disney's live-action remakes of their animated classics? In another timeline, Alan Horn had jumped from Warner Bros. to Disney and turned that strategy into a massive success.
Now Dunn had the adaptation rights. From a brand value standpoint, it didn't do much for Dunn Films.
Those films screamed Disney style through and through.
What Dunn Films got out of it… was cash!
Piles and piles of cash!
The Mirror Chronicles: $500 million at the box office. Maleficent: $750 million. Cinderella: $540 million. The Jungle Book: $960 million. Beauty and the Beast: $1.26 billion…
And that's not all. With Disney's brand power, plus their stores and consumer products division, merchandise sales would be off the charts.
An authentic princess dress from one of those movies? $199 a pop!
Who'd have thought?
Luxury goods for kids!
That's Disney's pull.
With Dunn holding a 55% stake, a conservative estimate put each film's profit at $200-300 million—easy money.
And on top of that, he'd nabbed the digital rights…