Following the lunch between Simon and Semel, Daenerys Films and Warner Bros. quickly began negotiations on the specific collaboration details for Batman.
While money couldn't guarantee a film's success, a high budget clearly made it easier to produce an outstanding movie. With Simon throwing around $50 million like a clueless nouveau riche, Warner decided to let Daenerys Films test the waters first.
Having secured Batman, Simon cheerfully endured the "fat sheep" stares from some people and continued accelerating his other plans in the same fat-sheep fashion.
On the other hand, the Saturday after Simon and Semel finalized Batman was the 45th Golden Globe Awards ceremony at the Beverly Hills Hilton. Bernardo Bertolucci's The Last Emperor unsurprisingly became the biggest winner, while Run Lola Run's five nominations all came up empty.
Media reactions to Run Lola Run's Golden Globes shutout ranged from skepticism and mockery to regret and schadenfreude. Simon, however, brushed it off quickly. After being ignored in the Writers Guild Awards nominations, he hadn't held high hopes for the Golden Globes anyway, so the outcome brought little regret.
Though backed by Warner and Orion, Run Lola Run couldn't match Spielberg's Empire of the Sun in networking and PR clout—and even Spielberg left empty-handed.
But the 60th Oscar nominations, announced right after the Golden Globes, once again showed Simon Hollywood's conservative side.
Many had thought Run Lola Run would snag several major nods even if it didn't win, but it only got a minor Best Editing nomination—nothing else.
Analysis suggested this stemmed from Simon's complex current identity.
If Simon were just a young director rising in Hollywood, Run Lola Run's dazzling success would have prompted the Oscars to encourage the newcomer.
But now, besides director, Simon was a billionaire with over a billion dollars. Voters might feel that since Simon Westeros had amassed such wealth in just over a year, he didn't need honors right away.
Whatever the mindset, Run Lola Run ended up with just that technical Best Editing nod.
Of course, the nominee was still Simon himself.
In early February, Batman negotiations continued, while Westeros Corporation quietly signed a $20 million deal with the UK's Tolkien Estate.
Though double the cost of The Lord of the Rings rights, Simon got more in return.
Besides smoothly acquiring The Silmarillion, Westeros paid $20 million to renegotiate rights for several Tolkien works with the Estate.
The 1969 contract required 7.5% net profit share to the Tolkien Estate.
Now, with a one-time $20 million payment, the original shares for The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit were canceled, and The Silmarillion had no shares either. Simon would hold these three works' rights until statutory protection expired.
The new deal also expanded Westeros's product development scope to avoid future disputes.
In Simon's memories, due to the 1969 contract not covering digital games, the Tolkien Estate sued Time Warner for unauthorized Lord of the Rings online games, seeking $80 million. Though settled privately, compensation far exceeded $20 million now.
The Estate's managers might lack long-term vision, but with Simon raising the $1 million-ish rights price dozens-fold, money wielded its power.
Perhaps both sides felt they'd gotten a steal; neither publicized the deal. As for the future—win or lose—they'd placed their bets.
Fairly, Simon couldn't 100% guarantee Tolkien's Middle-earth series would match its original timeline success, but his odds were far better.
From mid-January to mid-February, Daenerys and Warner's month-long talks finalized Batman's detailed plan.
The five-year license remained; Daenerys paid $2 million for Batman rights—another fat-sheep move compared to Spider-Man's $200,000. They agreed Daenerys would fund the first film, with Warner getting global distribution. If successful, Warner had up to 50% sequel investment rights, but must decide within a month of sequel greenlight—or forfeit.
On distribution, Warner stood firm; Daenerys only got sequel commission renegotiation rights—no independent distribution power.
Merchandise was a key tug-of-war, given Star Wars' success.
The final contract spent over ten pages clarifying live-action vs. comic, first film vs. sequels, etc. Warner's DC Comics got 10% net profits from Batman live-action merch; remaining split by investment shares.
Overall, another deal heavily favoring Warner, like recent Rain Man.
But.
Securing Batman rights was an absolute win for Simon. Once swallowed, he'd never spit them out. Holding tight meant future control stayed with him.
For more "control," a week after formal Daenerys-Warner signing, Simon bought Superman rights from British producer Alexander Salkind—another money-smash.
With Superman and Batman secured, plus Tolkien's Middle-earth trio, Simon's rights acquisition paused.
Amid the unnoticed busyness, time hit late February—and a special day arrived.
February 22nd.
Simon's 20th birthday.
In a Beverly Hills mountainside mansion—Sandra Bullock's new home.
After impulsively kissing a certain guy one night, facing the ensuing paparazzi frenzy, she'd had to move. So much had happened in the past half-year; after Simon and Janet reconciled, plus some guilty conscience, Sandra found herself inevitably drifting from Simon.
But.
Today was his 20th birthday party—a perfect excuse to go.
Just felt a bit weird.
Thinking of her own 20th birthday—in college, clueless about her future.
His 20th.
Sigh.
Standing so high, untouchable—aren't you afraid of falling?
Hmph.
It was already five in the afternoon.
Slipping into her carefully prepared aqua-blue evening gown, she emerged from the walk-in closet just as the doorbell rang—her makeup artist, right on time.
Assistant Gina went to answer; Sandra carefully sat on the living room sofa, lifting her skirt. The TV had been on; now noticing, CNN's host and two guests discussed Simon, with a live feed of his Palisades mansion behind them.
This is a bit overkill isn't it?
Just a birthday party, yet drawing CNN for a live broadcast.
But.
Considering what he'd done from summer two years ago till now, CNN's reaction didn't seem excessive.
Grabbing the remote to turn up the volume, Gina brought in the makeup artist. Sandra signaled for living-room makeup, eyes glued to the screen, intrigued by the discussion.
"Yes, Jim, Simon Westeros reminds me of Howard Hughes too—but he's even more legendary. His first film topped North American box office, $400 million global—miraculous for his age. Even more stunning: last year's stock index futures plays. Five months, he hugged the S&P 500's ups and downs, buying and selling as if predicting them."
The other guest, a bespectacled woman, said, "But Daniel, I think Simon Westeros went off the rails after last year's crash. Especially lately—his capital moves are chaotic. Feuding with Motorola, dumping all their stock. Trying to acquire New World Entertainment, then bailing after setbacks. And Daenerys Films—he's throwing money around. Our young billionaire's reportedly greenlit eight films; with recent Batman and Superman, that's ten. I gathered a list—based on public info, most lack appeal, but budgets exceed Hollywood averages. Like that Rain Man—heard of it?"
The male guest, Daniel, nodded. "Some buzz—a Dustin Hoffman and Tom Cruise film, rejected by all major studios. And Daenerys apparently signed a very unequal deal with MGM-UA. But I feel Westeros has other plans. Anyone thinking a 20-year-old billionaire is dumb are the real fool."
"Hey, Daniel, you calling me that?" The woman laughed, rebutting. "But I do think Simon Westeros has been reckless lately. Keep it up, and his net worth could shrink big-time in a few years."
"That's speculation, Katie. When Howard Hughes made Hell's Angels, everyone thought bankruptcy—yet it grossed $8 million. 1930's $8 million outdid Star Wars or E.T. And I think Simon Westeros's assets are mostly in those tech stocks. Post-Motorola dump, per recent prices, just that exceeds $1.3 billion."
"Probably more," the host interjected. "Our sources say after New World flop, Westeros is scooping tech stocks again. Like Silicon Graphics—he visited their San Francisco workstation firm last month. Latest filings: Westeros holds 11% of SGI. Oracle: 9%. Then Microsoft, Intel, etc.—stakes up from 5% to over 7%. In my Calculation: he's plowed at least half his Motorola cash into these. Wall Street's following again, boosting tech sector. Now, his stock assets near $1.6 billion."
Daniel finished, gesturing to the woman. "See? Still $1.6 billion. Simon Westeros made about that from the crash last year. Katie, per you, after some recklessness, his wealth didn't drop—it grew."
The woman said, "But I still don't think Simon Westeros can keep this up, he can't miracle forever."
The host suddenly asked, "Katie, do you think Simon Westeros is normal?"
Daniel laughed.
The woman smiled too. "Fine, Westeros isn't normal. But I mean, unless he's an alien—impossible—he'll face failure. Like Daenerys's films: he might guarantee one, two, three hits—but not all. Big studios have blockbusters yearly, yet often report losses. I know Hollywood accounting—but I mean real losses. Why? Besides spotlight hits, a slew of flops."
The host waited, then clapped lightly. "Whatever the future, today is Simon Westeros's 20th birthday. This sudden riser of just over a year has created so many miracles—I'm sure everyone's curious. Let's toss back to our on-site reporter."