Over the following week, the North American media couldn't stop talking about Michael Ovitz and the "infantry" incident.
Humiliated and in a complete mess, Ovitz was forced to publish an open reply quickly, firmly denying that he had ever meant to threaten Joe Eszterhas during the argument. He declared that Eszterhas was free to leave CAA at any time and that he would never stand in his way.
Eszterhas, however, didn't buy a word of it. In an interview with a reporter from the Los Angeles Times, he once again accused Ovitz of verbal abuse and claimed it had caused him severe psychological trauma. He said he had completely lost any sense of safety, because Ovitz had threatened to ruin his career. Eszterhas even claimed he'd been forced to sell the house he'd just bought with his family, for fear something might happen to them.
Right after that, whether or not it was pushed by Ovitz behind the scenes, a large number of CAA clients began publicly rallying to his defense. Big names like Sean Connery and Sydney Pollack stated they didn't believe the always-courteous, rarely-flustered Ovitz would ever say such things to Joe Eszterhas, and they hinted that Eszterhas might be exaggerating to milk sympathy.
That was certainly possible.
But Eszterhas didn't defend himself. Cleverly, he kept playing the tragedy card and implied that the big stars speaking up were Ovitz applying pressure, trying to silence him.
And the media, never one to mind stirring the pot, happily kept fanning the flames.
In the midst of all that spectacle, on August 23, Japan's Sony Corporation abruptly cut through the noise around the "infantry" scandal by releasing an announcement: it had reached an agreement with Columbia Pictures to acquire the studio for $3.4 billion in cash, while also assuming $1.6 billion in debt.
On August 25, Columbia's board voted and approved Sony's acquisition plan.
And so, after a year-long tug-of-war, Sony formally brought one of Hollywood's seven major studios, Columbia Pictures, under its wing.
The deal, valued at a total of $5 billion, included Columbia's assets: the Columbia and TriStar labels, a massive library of more than four thousand film and television titles, the Loews theater chain with eight hundred and twenty screens, and part of the company's television holdings.
Because the American television sector in the late eighties still wasn't open to overseas investors, Sony also stated in its announcement that once the transaction was complete, it would divest Columbia's television assets.
And then, Monday, August 28.
Before Sony had even finalized who would run Columbia, it held the fourth press conference in recent weeks together with Daenerys Entertainment, announcing the fourth film in the ten-picture plan: A League of Their Own.
Just like Sleeping with the Enemy, The Hand That Rocks the Cradle, and The Fugitive, A League of Their Own was also the work of a newcomer screenwriter. Based on real events during World War II, it told the story of a washed-up baseball star who, after the men all rush off to war, tries to build a women's baseball team.
This kind of North American sports movie didn't carry much name recognition overseas, but in Simon's memory it was still a yearly top-ten hit that broke the hundred-million mark at the box office.
After A League of Their Own, on August 30, the fifth press conference arrived. Universal and Danerys Entertainment jointly announced the fifth film in the ten-picture plan, adapted from Stephen King's novel Misery. Misery told the story of a crazed fan who accidentally saves the author she worships, then discovers he's killed off the character she loves and kidnaps and imprisons him, forcing him to rewrite the story.
After Stephen King became famous, his novels were adapted constantly. Over the years, there had been at least one new King adaptation hitting the big screen almost every year. Danerys Entertainment itself held the rights to Children of the Corn, and earlier in the year the Easter slot had seen the release of Pet Sematary, also adapted from King's novel of the same name.
Still, aside from Pet Sematary, which earned more than $57 million after its Easter release, most other Stephen King adaptations only brought in twenty or thirty million. Producers didn't lose much, but they didn't make much either.
A novel like Misery, without any ghosts or supernatural elements, wasn't originally considered very promising. It wasn't until Simon took a liking to it that Universal, which had quietly snapped up the rights in advance, finally perked up and treated it seriously.
Five projects. Five press conferences. That was also by Simon's design. He wanted the ten-film plan to develop something like a "brand effect." Judging from the media response, it was working. From casting to shooting to postproduction to release, these films wouldn't lack attention from every major platform. That alone was enough to offset several million dollars' worth of marketing.
With five projects announced, Hollywood stars grew even more restless.
Century City.
More than a week had passed, and the media's mockery, criticism, and attacks on Michael Ovitz still hadn't slowed. At times Ovitz even suspected someone was deliberately targeting him. But the root cause was simple: in the past, Ovitz had been too low-profile. The media was curious about him yet knew little. The moment even a little relevant information surfaced, everyone swarmed in.
Because of the recent negative press, or perhaps Danerys Entertainment's blacklist, and the fact that five films in the ten-picture plan had already been announced, CAA's client roster kept bleeding.
After Kurt Russell and Goldie Hawn, WMA poached Geena Davis as well, 1last year's Best Supporting Actress Oscar winner. At the same time, WMA also took a writer client named Michael Crichton. Ovitz remembered this client wasn't known for any major blockbuster hits, but the dinosaur novel concept he'd discussed with him some time ago had been fascinating.
He had no time to care about any of that now.
If those two weren't that important, WMA reaching for Tom Hanks was something Ovitz found hard to stay calm about.
Hanks's Big last year not only crossed the hundred-million mark in North America, it even earned him a Best Actor nomination. This summer's Turner & Hooch had also performed very well domestically. He was firmly A-list now. Goldie Hawn and Kurt Russell, old-guard stars already sliding downhill, jumping ship was one thing. But if a rising star like Tom Hanks left, it would be a severe blow to CAA's reputation.
With clients continuing to leave, it wasn't hard to imagine other stars forming the impression that CAA was on the decline and no longer worth staying with.
Once a domino effect started, the result would be catastrophic.
And when Columbia suddenly announced on August 31 that Geena Davis who had just jumped from CAA would be starring in A League of Their Own as part of the ten-film plan, Michael Ovitz knew he had to make a decision soon.
Friday, September 1.
A new week began, with only a low-budget B-movie thriller from New Line quietly opening an unmistakable sign that this year's summer season had fully wrapped.
From the data currently available, the confirmed hundred-million-dollar hits of this summer were Indiana Jones 3, Ghostbusters 2, Honey, I Shrunk the Kids, Lethal Weapon 2, The Bodyguard, and The Sixth Sense, six films in total, with Danerys Entertainment accounting for two of them.
Considering that later in the year there would still be Batman and Hook a Danerys Entertainment partnership with Warner Bros. as well as Universal's Back to the Future Part II, if another one or two dark horses emerged, it was still very possible the total number of hundred-million-dollar films for the year would exceed ten.
Ticket prices in North America hadn't risen dramatically in recent years. The shift from only four or five sometimes even fewer, hundred-million-dollar films per year to the ten-film level now was proof that after the stagnation of the seventies and early eighties, Hollywood's resurgence was unstoppable.
In Simon's memory, the year 1990 had been marked by a wave of blockbuster hits like Home Alone, Pretty Woman, and Ghost, along with further expansion of the global film market, signaling Hollywood's renaissance. After that, the annual roster of hundred-million-dollar films basically filled the top ten every year.
In this timeline, when later generations charted Hollywood's trajectory, that turning point would likely be pushed up to 1988—the first time Hollywood saw more than ten hundred-million-dollar box office hits in a single year.
Simon's butterfly effect had effectively accelerated Hollywood's recovery by two years.
Around eight o'clock that night.
At the Four Seasons Hotel in Beverly Hills, a reception was underway, Sony, the newcomer, entertaining Hollywood's local power brokers.
Simon, with Famke Janssen beside him, was chatting with Jeff Goldblum and Geena Davis. Goldblum and Davis were a couple, and both currently sat at the edge of A-list status.
Batman was close to completion. If the year-end box office met expectations, Wonder Woman would likely enter early development, and Simon had sped up the process of getting Famke "seen" in the right circles. The other two candidates, Helena Christensen and Erika Anderson, had already given up trying to compete with Famke, and Simon wasn't going to waste effort on a dead race.
Over the past year or so, Famke had taken a handful of tiny roles in film and TV. This time, Simon arranged for her to take two small parts one in Robert Altman's ensemble film Short Cuts, and another in A League of Their Own, the company's co-production with Columbia.
Both films would draw more attention, and Famke Janssen's figure and looks were more than enough to make audiences notice her.
As they were talking about A League of Their Own, Michael Ovitz appeared nearby. Spotting Simon, he walked straight over.
Everyone who could attend tonight's event was well-connected and well-informed. Seeing Ovitz head toward Simon Westeros, they all turned to watch with curiosity, whispering among themselves.
Ovitz stopped in front of Simon and didn't bother to hide his purpose. He went straight to the point. "Simon, can we talk alone?"
Simon agreed readily. "Sure."
With a nod to Geena Davis and the others, Simon and Ovitz walked together to a sofa in the corner of the hall and sat down. Famke Janssen, tactful as always, didn't follow.