Chapter 39 – Phone Booth
PolyGram's Los Angeles office.
Michael Kuhn and Aaron Anderson sat across from each other.
"The Phone Booth script is really fresh. Are you seriously planning to shoot it?" Michael asked.
Aaron nodded. "I just set up Dawnlight Films and am preparing to rent an office in Burbank. I've already secured a director and lead actor, and invested a million dollars myself. We still need some funding, so I'm planning to exchange international distribution rights for part of it."
Michael Kuhn smiled. "You've got guts—using your own money on your first film."
Aaron shrugged. "This way, I maintain control. If it's my movie, I have full confidence in it."
"Alright," Michael said. "I like the Phone Booth script. How about $300,000 in exchange for the UK distribution rights?"
Aaron rubbed his forehead. "The lead is Nicolas Cage—his acting is solid, and being part of the Coppola family gives us some publicity. I'm thinking… $3 million, and you take the European rights. How about that?"
Michael shook his head. "PolyGram is a music company. Distributing records isn't the same as distributing films. We can handle the UK ourselves. For the rest of Europe, we're looking for agents. Phone Booth's budget is $2 million, Aaron—you're being greedy."
Aaron leaned in, confident. "Theaters, TV, VHS—Phone Booth will make a solid return. It's much more commercially viable than Sex, Lies, and Videotape."
Michael reminded him, "Aaron, North America is the largest entertainment market in the world. That's different."
Aaron had already gained recognition in the indie film circuit for spotting Sex, Lies, and Videotape.
"Fine," Michael finally said. "$1.5 million for the European rights should be enough for you to make the film."
"That's a bit low," Aaron countered. "The pound-dollar rate is around 1.6, so £1 million is about $1.6 million. I'm not planning to make much in Europe anyway—the North American market is key. But since Phone Booth is about to start filming, I need the cash now."
"Agreed. Let's make this a good collaboration."
They shook hands, sealing the deal.
Aaron quickly received the PolyGram check, and filming for Phone Booth kicked off in downtown Los Angeles.
On Broadway, a modest set had been built. Nicolas Cage stood inside the phone booth, delivering his lines. Behind the camera, David Fincher focused intently on Cage's expressions.
Aaron and Quentin Tarantino stood nearby, discussing the shoot.
"You're saying you didn't tell the extras the script?" Aaron asked.
"Exactly. When the shooting and the 'kill' happen, their reactions will be genuine. The director agrees," Tarantino explained.
Bang! A gunshot rang out. The actor facing Cage fell, and the extras around them reacted with true shock and fear.
A short while later, Fincher approached the cinematographer. "How did it look? Did we get it?"
"Perfect. Got plenty of terrified reactions," the cinematographer replied, smiling.
Aaron breathed a small sigh of relief—it was good they were extras, not random pedestrians.
Soon after, he received a call from Miramax, interested in discussing Phone Booth's distribution.
Lately, Aaron had been busy setting up Dawnlight Films and seeking a North American distributor for Phone Booth.
It wasn't just Miramax—independent distributors like Samuel Goldwyn and New Line, as well as majors like Columbia, Disney, and 20th Century Fox, all expressed interest.
Harvey Weinstein from Miramax and Robert Shaye from New Line were interested but wanted to buy out the North American rights at prices Aaron couldn't accept.
That evening, at a Hollywood club, Harvey Weinstein smiled at Aaron.
"Since you left CAA, interested in joining Miramax?"
Steve Ross and Lou Wasserman were also ex-agents. Recently, David Geffen sold Geffen Records to MCA for $550 million in cash and stock. He, too, had started as an agent.
"You might become one of them too," Harvey said with a grin.
Steve Ross, co-CEO of Time Warner.
Lou Wasserman, chairman and CEO of MCA, Universal's parent company.
"See, the real goal is to get into entertainment production. Being an agent is just a stepping stone," Aaron said to Harvey Weinstein, barely registering the sales pitch.
"$1.5 million for the North American distribution rights of Phone Booth, sold to Miramax. If the box office exceeds $10 million, you'll earn between $500,000 and $1 million in cash bonuses," Harvey continued.
Perhaps Aaron's confidence stemmed from the success of Sex, Lies, and Videotape, giving him some ideas for Phone Booth.
Aaron smiled. "Harvey, my expectations for Phone Booth are even higher than they were for Sex, Lies, and Videotape. And since I've already sold the European rights, I don't need a quick cash return. If you're interested, we could discuss having Miramax handle it on a commission basis."
If Aaron had been new to Hollywood, he probably would have sold the film outright to recoup money fast. But now, there was no rush. The current market—and the future one—were entirely different. Independent distributors and theater chains were abundant in the U.S., and it would be a few years before independent studios saw any major mergers or acquisitions.
"Commission-based distribution is certainly possible. You've got confidence, I'll give you that. But Miramax would take a 20% distribution fee," Harvey noted.
Aaron rubbed his forehead. "Harvey, Miramax isn't exactly a top-six studio. Even among independent distributors, they're not in the first tier. How much marketing muscle can you really provide?"
For a small independent film with no big-name director or A-list stars—and not even an action movie—the revenue share from theaters rarely hit 50%. If they took 20% in commission, the production team would only get around 30%, minus advertising costs. That left very little.
If you were a major studio with hundreds or even a thousand theaters opening a film nationwide, 20% commission is reasonable. But for an indie like Phone Booth, Aaron wasn't willing to pay that.
"Let's wait until the film wraps and see the final cut before discussing this further," he said.
Miramax clearly wasn't offering much in good faith.