Chapter 69: A Bit Too Ambitious
Nancy Josephson knew all too well how dire Orion's finances were. Why else would the studio even consider skipping a theatrical release for The Silence of the Lambs? They were openly weighing a direct sale to Blockbuster, Hollywood Video, or premium cable networks—anything that could pull in quick cash. A theatrical rollout required a hefty marketing spend, and Orion simply didn't have the reserves.
"Aaron, did you call me here just to make fun of me?" Nancy's expression was flat. She honestly couldn't figure out what he was angling for. Did he expect ICM to finance him? That was laughable.
Aaron swirled his coffee, tapping the porcelain with his finger. "Lambs cost $19 million to make. If we're talking just the North American rights… I'd peg them at about $14 million. Not easy to swallow."
The international rights had already been pre-sold to cover part of the budget. Aaron didn't care how much that brought in—probably not much. Outside of Jodie Foster, the package had little international pull, and horror-thrillers weren't hot sellers abroad.
"Then why even bring it up if you know that?" Nancy shook her head. "Jennifer Connelly's The Rocketeer is about to start shooting. Maybe you should be worrying about that instead."
Aaron took another sip, hiding a pang of regret. Everyone—from Orion to the trades—was underestimating The Silence of the Lambs. But he knew better. The film would be both a critical and commercial smash, sweeping the box office and the Oscars. This was the kind of once-in-a-lifetime opportunity people overlooked.
By his estimate, Orion couldn't have raised more than $10 million from overseas rights. That meant the North American license could likely be snapped up for somewhere between $13 and $15 million.
"It's in post now, right?" Aaron asked casually. He'd picked up most of this intel from Kevin Costner.
"Nearly done," Nancy confirmed. "But Orion's real focus is Dances with Wolves. Lambs tested well internally, but the studio doesn't have faith in thrillers. They don't see it as awards material, and they don't trust it commercially either."
Aaron did some quick math. Dawnlight still had $3.5 million in its account, and his personal balance was $1.3 million. To grab Lambs, he'd need to raise at least another $10 million—and even then, Dawnlight wasn't a distributor. He'd still have to partner with one of the majors.
He gave a wry smile. "Guess I'm being greedy. Without my own distribution arm, my hands are tied."
Nancy softened slightly. "Then focus on finishing your own films. Build a distribution wing or buy one outright. That way, when you acquire projects, you'll have leverage. But Aaron… you'll need real money to play at that level. A release slate, marketing muscle, boots on the ground—it all costs a fortune."
Aaron nodded. She wasn't wrong.
"By the way," Nancy leaned in, lowering her voice, "what role did CAA play in Matsushita's bid for MCA?"
Aaron smirked. "Last year I was just a junior agent, but even I knew CAA was Matsushita's lead representative. Not just a consultant, like when Sony bought Columbia." He shrugged. "Beyond that, I was too far down the ladder to hear details."
The Matsushita–MCA deal was still under wraps, no one outside the inner circle knew where things stood. But as ICM was CAA's fiercest rival, Nancy had to ask. She doubted Aaron had any privileged insight.
"Well," she said, standing, "hopefully we'll find a way to work together someday."
They shook hands, and Nancy left.
A little later, as Aaron was heading out of the Beverly Wilshire lobby, he nearly bumped into Johnny Depp and Winona Ryder. Both looked surprised—then smiled warmly.
"Aaron, good evening," Depp greeted. "What a coincidence!"
Johnny Depp bumped fists with Aaron.
"Good evening, Depp," Aaron said with a friendly smile, then turned to Winona Ryder.
"Winona—you're looking more stunning every time I see you."
"Thank you."
Winona's petite frame and striking features stood out in any crowd. Her bold brows and delicate bone structure carried a timeless beauty—an almost Eastern elegance in her symmetry. Radiant and poised, she had a natural mix of purity and cool allure, her dark curls and crimson lips exuding a vintage sophistication.
"Were you two at an event?" Aaron asked.
"We just came from a test screening of Edward Scissorhands," Winona replied.
Johnny shrugged. "Changed clothes, now we're headed to a bar. You should come grab a drink with us, Aaron. I still owe you one after the whole River thing—I never really got to thank you."
Aaron chuckled, shaking his head. "Wish I could, but I've got another meeting tonight."
"Pity," Johnny said, looking genuinely disappointed.
Aaron waved them off and slipped into his Roost car, pulling away from the Beverly Wilshire.
"Can you believe that kid's only twenty?" Winona muttered, still watching his taillights. "And he managed to step on Warren Beatty to climb the ladder." She remembered first meeting Aaron back during her early auditions—when he was still just an agent. The rise was staggering.
Johnny grinned. "Tracy mentioned him, said the guy's going places."
Tracy was Depp's agent—and a former colleague of Aaron's at CAA.
Meanwhile, Aaron was already steering toward Hollywood Boulevard, arriving at the Roosevelt Hotel for another meeting.
Inside a private suite, Al Pacino was waiting. To Aaron's surprise, director Garry Marshall and actress Michelle Pfeiffer were there as well.
The reason became clear quickly: Pacino had recommended Aaron to join Paramount's upcoming romantic drama Frankie and Johnny as one of its producers.
Aaron was caught off guard. Pretty Woman, Marshall and Pacino's current collaboration, was still in theaters—and now they were lining up the next romance?
With Pfeiffer present, it was obvious she'd been tapped as the female lead. She'd just landed an Oscar nomination for The Fabulous Baker Boys, after all.
Multiple producers on one film was nothing unusual, but Aaron had never even heard of Frankie and Johnny before tonight. And frankly, the success of Pretty Woman owed far more to Julia Roberts than anyone else. Pacino, brilliant as he was, always seemed more suited to crime dramas and heavy dramas than sweeping romances.
So, with polite diplomacy, Aaron declined, citing his focus on Ghost and Boyz n the Hood.
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