[TL/N: If you wish to avoid spoilers, please skip the next chapter. I'll upload my character sheets, notes.]
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Hearing Simon's demand, Peter Sanders nearly blurted out: Do you even know what a producer does?
The average person's impression of Hollywood filmmakers often revolves around big stars or big directors. But in reality, since the rise of the Arican film industry in the early twentieth century, Hollywood has always been producer-centered.
Except for a very few exceptionally powerful directors and stars, in most cases, the one with the ultimate authority on a film set is the producer—they're the final decision-makers steering the creative direction of a movie.
Even those powerful directors and stars, to exert their influence on a film, often need to take on a producer credit, which still doesn't break the producer-centric system.
Simon watched Peter Sanders' shifting expressions, waited patiently for a mont, then said, "Peter, I know what you're thinking. But since I've already completed Run Lola Run, I can naturally handle Final Destination just as well. And there's no one in Hollywood who knows better than I do what kind of movie Final Destination should be."
Peter Sanders composed himself slightly. "In that case, Simon, why not direct it yourself? Orion should be flexible about that."
"Because it's not worth it. I want to focus my main energy on films that interest more. But Final Destination is my script, and I want to personally oversee its production."
Peter Sanders thought for a bit, then shook his head. "Simon, you know how Hollywood works. Fox won't hand over control of a film to a young guy like you."
Simon shrugged indifferently. "In that case, maybe other studios will agree."
Peter Sanders was montarily speechless.
The contract Simon had signed with Fox, at its core, was just a right of first refusal. With Run Lola Run's box office exploding, Simon's fa was soaring—Hollywood studios would surely break the unspoken agreent on such options for the sake of profit.
If other studios agreed to let Simon take full control, and Fox wouldn't match, they'd have to pass.
Fox had already passed on Run Lola Run; if they passed on Final Destination too, and it succeeded wildly, Fox would beco the laughingstock of Hollywood.
After a brief hesitation, Peter Sanders asked, "Simon, what are your terms?"
"Including producer, writer, and other roles, I just need a $1 base salary," Simon said, not waiting for Peter Sanders to react before continuing. "But after release, I want 10% of the North Arican box office gross and 5% of videotape sales revenue. TV broadcast rights have too long a cycle—I won't touch those."
Hearing the $1 base salary, Peter Sanders already looked surprised. By the ti Simon finished his follow-up terms, his expression had turned to astonishnt.
This kid really had the nerve to ask for the Sun.
Peter Sanders had heard clearly: Simon wasn't asking for profit shares, which left room for maneuvering, but straight gross percentages from box office and videotape sales.
In all of Hollywood, probably only Spielberg dared demand terms like that right now.
After staring blankly for dozens of seconds, Peter Sanders said, "Simon, that's impossible."
Simon watched Peter Sanders' eyes nearly bulge out and made a calming gesture. "Peter, actually, I've already had soone prepare a simple budget estimate based on my vision for the project. Hand Final Destination to , and $8 million will cover it. As for marketing costs, that's whatever you say it is. And I don't have the energy to calculate the break-even point. So let's keep it simple: We'll base the North Arican gross on twice the production cost—$16 million. With Fox ensuring the release date, screen count, and promo spend, if the North Arican gross falls below $16 million, I take just the $1. If it exceeds $16 million, my compensation follows the terms I just laid out."
Peter Sanders cald a bit hearing this.
But then, thinking of Run Lola Run's projected gross likely topping $160 million in North Arica, he quickly shook his head. "Simon, if you want those percentages, $16 million isn't enough—at least $50 million."
Based on his mories and the buzz from Run Lola Run, Simon's own North Arican expectation for Final Destination was indeed around $50 million. But in this world, movies were the hardest business to predict success in—he wasn't about to set such a high bar for himself.
Moreover, with an $8 million budget, as long as Final Destination hit $10 million dostically, Fox could easily turn a profit through overseas distribution, videotape sales, and TV rights.
Simon's $16 million guarantee was already quite high.
"Peter, if I rember right, of the sixteen films Fox released last year, only five grossed over $10 million. Others like Kate Capshaw's SpaceCamp—$20 million budget, $9.69 million dostic. Sean Connery's The Na of the Rose—sa $20 million budget, $7.15 million dostic. The Manhattan Project—$18 million budget, $3.9 million dostic. See, you poured big money into so many flops—why not invest a little less in a film with real guarantees?"
Peter Sanders' mouth twitched at the ntion of SpaceCamp, wondering if the kid was doing it on purpose, but he imdiately countered, "Simon, before a movie releases, no one can guarantee success."
Simon nodded. "Of course, Peter. But I can guarantee that if it fails, I take just $1—not $5 million."
Peter Sanders insisted, "Simon, Hollywood's full of people willing to take $1 for a chance."
"Based on Run Lola Run's box office, let's look back three years: '86's Top Gun, '85's Back to the Future, '84's Beverly Hills Cop. So, do you think Tom Cruise would take $1, or Robert Zeckis, or Eddie Murphy?" Simon stared at Peter Sanders, then stood. "Peter, those are my terms. You can discuss with Mr. Goldberg—best to give an answer next week. Oh, and the motel's booked out by the crew—if you're staying tonight, I can have soone prep a room for you."
With that, Simon called over the waiter, paid the bill, and left.
Peter Sanders didn't get up, still sitting in the coffee shop, frowning in thought. He'd rushed over on a Saturday afternoon not just to discuss the Final Destination contract but also to build a rapport with this rising Hollywood newcor, planning to stay in Coolidge for a couple days.
But recalling Simon's assertiveness in their conversation, Peter Sanders realized sticking around wouldn't accomplish much.
As for Simon's terms, now that he'd cooled down, he saw they weren't strictly unreasonable.
Though too young, though he'd only made one film, though that film's success had so luck involved—the projected gross for Run Lola Run was just too staggering. Even if it didn't claim the North Arican crown this year, breaking $100 million would qualify Simon to demand those rates.
Peter Sanders also knew that, riding the buzz from Run Lola Run, this fresh, comrcially potent horror flick Final Destination could easily hit $16 million dostic.
And even aiming higher—if it reached $50 million—Simon's box office cut would be just $5 million. Sean Connery got $5 million for The Na of the Rose, which barely cleared $7 million dostic and left Fox in the red.
Of course, there was also the 5% videotape sales cut—a hefty ask. The WGA's basic agreent gave screenwriters just 0.3% of post-theatrical videotape revenue.
In 1986 alone, Hollywood's videotape sales had surpassed dostic box office. Add that hot horror films typically outperford other genres on tape, and Simon's 5% could match his 10% box office share.
But.
What Peter Sanders couldn't ignore was that Simon's demands were all predicated on guaranteeing Fox a profit.
Fairly speaking, it was equitable.
Peter Sanders just struggled to accept an eighteen-year-old barging into Hollywood's top tier so quickly, joining the ranks on equal footing with him.
It was simply too hard to swallow.
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