Chapter 70 – A Pleasant Partnership
"You really made Warren Beatty lose face this time. Trust me, if he gets the chance, he'll come after you," Al Pacino said as he and Aaron Anderson sat together at the Rose Bar inside the Roosevelt Hotel.
Aaron chuckled. "Beatty? Two flops in a row and drowning in scandals. He should worry about finding a distributor willing to bankroll Bugsy before worrying about me."
Sony might be rich, but studio execs lived and died by box office. Columbia Pictures had already turned him down. As for TriStar? Hard to say. After all, Dick Tracy had barely scraped $50 million domestically. Disney had poured in $47 million for production, and more than $40 million on marketing—much of that just to bury Beatty's scandals. Even with overseas revenue and home video, Disney would struggle to break even.
"Anyway," Aaron continued, "has Frankie and Johnny actually come together yet?"
To Aaron, Garry Marshall and Pacino seemed in too much of a rush. Pretty Woman had been lightning in a bottle—nearly impossible to replicate.
"Pretty much," Pacino said. "Director, cast, distributor—financing's locked in."
Pacino had just finished The Godfather Part III with Paramount, so another project wasn't a surprise.
Aaron nodded, then thought for a moment. Come to think of it, Pacino still hadn't won that elusive Oscar for Best Actor. That would come later, with Scent of a Woman—a modest drama that ended up being both a critical and box office success.
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Later, as Aaron drove back along Fountain Avenue toward West Hollywood, something caught his eye on Gardner Street: a small neighborhood theater for sale.
Jack Wells had just quit CAA. Maybe this was the perfect chance to give him something real to manage. Aaron knew theaters—this could work.
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The next day, at a fast-food joint near the Blues Brothers Theater, Jack bit into his burger, staring at Aaron in disbelief.
"You want me to run a theater?"
Aaron nodded, sipping his coffee and pointing outside. "It's old, yeah, but still functional. I'll buy it, renovate it. Once Boyz n the Hood wraps, you can run it while working out how to start your security firm."
Jack let out a nervous laugh. "Aaron, that place has to be at least a million. I don't have that kind of money."
"Relax. I'll put up the cash. We'll split ownership fifty-fifty. I don't have time to manage it anyway—you do."
Jack's eyes lit up, excitement bubbling despite himself. "But I've never run a theater before. Won't that be a problem?"
Aaron pressed a hand to his forehead. "Jack, once we buy it, rent's no longer an issue. The biggest cost disappears. Trust me, you won't lose money. It's a 300-seat house. Run-down, yeah, but workable."
Three hundred people crammed into a single auditorium wasn't the future. Modern theaters were already moving toward multiplexes—splitting into smaller auditoriums for comfort and flexibility.
"We'll start with a simple renovation," Aaron explained. "Split the main hall into two screens. Upgrade the sound system. Add couple's seating. Make the rows stadium-style. That'll do for now."
Jack left buzzing, a mix of nerves and excitement. For the first time, he had something tangible to build.
By splitting the theater into smaller auditoriums, each screening room could offer audiences a more comfortable experience. Add in concessions—Coke, popcorn, hot dogs—and the profits would multiply.
"Alright, I'm in," Jack Wells said, visibly excited. He didn't yet have a concrete plan for his future security company, but running a theater gave him purpose for now.
"That's settled, then. Once Boyz n the Hood wraps, track down the current owner, negotiate a fair price, and start simple renovations," Aaron instructed. "First priority: split the main hall into two screens. Upgrade the sound. Add couple's seating. Install stadium-style chairs…"
Jack left buzzing with excitement, the prospect of managing a theater lighting him up.
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By August, Jennifer Connelly's The Rocketeer had officially begun shooting.
Meanwhile, Pretty Woman had become a worldwide sensation: $170 million in North America, $280 million overseas, for a staggering $450 million global haul.
Julia Roberts had gone from an unknown actress to "America's Sweetheart" almost overnight.
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In Burbank, at Disney headquarters, Aaron had his first formal meeting with the so-called "King of Disney," Michael Eisner.
"Let's see," Eisner began, his tone calm but commanding. "Aaron Anderson. High school graduate. Just twenty years old. Entered CAA, involved in the deals for Sex, Lies, and Videotape, Cinema Paradiso, and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Then, after leaving agency work, you developed a low-budget thriller—Phone Booth—and cleared tens of millions in profit. You pushed Jeffrey Katzenberg to accelerate Pretty Woman and fought hard to bring Al Pacino on board. In the process, you locked horns with Warren Beatty."
Eisner fixed him with a steady gaze, his presence carrying a natural authority.
"I hear you've now developed two more projects—one romance, one Black community drama?"
Aaron nodded. "That's right. Both in partnership with Sony Columbia."
Eisner leaned back, slightly surprised. "I have to admit, your trajectory these past two years is hard to explain but impossible to ignore. After a hit like Phone Booth, most would chase more low-budget thrillers or horror films. Smaller risks, bigger odds. But you? You've sunk your personal fortune into independent productions, even borrowing over ten million from the bank."
He shook his head in disbelief. "Do you know how many films with budgets in the tens of millions barely gross a fraction of that? You're only twenty. You're not worried about going bankrupt?"
Aaron smiled calmly. "I believe in myself. If I fail, I can always go back to being an agent—or work as an acquisitions exec at a studio. Either way, I'll land on my feet. My lifestyle won't collapse."
He honestly had no idea why Michael Eisner wanted to meet, if only to lecture him on risk.
"Hollywood has no shortage of young prodigies," Eisner said, his voice tightening. "Most burn out. This is a city that chews up talent with its glitter and excess."
Then he leaned forward. "Disney wants to sign a three-picture distribution deal with your Dawnlight Films. Three years, three films. Standard fifteen-percent distribution fee. What do you say?"
Aaron smiled politely. "Mr. Eisner, perhaps we should wait until next year—after my films release—before we talk about that. For now, my collaboration with Sony has been going very well…"
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