Chapter 109: Picking a Fight

In mid-February, Duke assembled his post-production team and brought in editor Mike Dawson for their third consecutive collaboration, officially kicking off post-production for Independence Day. By his estimates, the process would take until early June at the absolute earliest; he had allocated a full four months for it.

In fact, if not for the incredibly tedious CGI compositing, Duke was confident he could finish all post-production work by May. Unfortunately, there were no shortcuts for special effects. The team at Industrial Light and Magic had been working on them since October of the previous year, but aside from completing the shots used in the Super Bowl commercial, the rest of the visual effects were still in their rough early stages.

Every aerial combat scene in the film required visual effects, and Duke also had to composite the actors into those CGI shots. Even though the model-making department had built 3,978 F-18 fighter jets, 52,278 pieces of debris, 3,931 alien spacecraft, 1,549 missiles, and 22,014 light orbs during filming, Independence Day still required nearly 4,000 CGI shots. It was a massive undertaking.

Because he had to coordinate with the special effects department, Duke's post-production progress was moving at a snail's pace. Furthermore, when it came to the actual effects production, he constantly felt as if he had plenty of energy but nowhere to exert it.

Computer effects involved incredibly tedious and highly specialized work. Duke could lay out his requirements and point out flaws in the finished scenes, but stepping in to do the work himself was completely beyond his capabilities.

As a result, after finishing his daily tasks, Duke had plenty of time to discuss the score with the composer. Originally, he had wanted to hire Hans Zimmer again to score Independence Day, but after The Rock, the German composer had signed a contract with Walt Disney to score The Lion King.

Duke wasn't too disappointed about missing out on Hans Zimmer. He simply brought in Skywalker Sound, known for their operatic scores, handing the music for Independence Day over to his former collaborators.

Throughout post-production, Duke never lost sight of safety, with fire prevention as his top priority. The benefits of working with both Warner Brothers and Twentieth Century Fox simultaneously were also readily apparent. Almost no one dared use underhanded tactics to compete with the Independence Day crew. Very few people were impulsive enough to provoke two major studios at the same time. This was especially true for a project with a budget of over a hundred million dollars; anyone who crossed the line would face the full fury of Time Warner and News Group.

Compared to all the messy incidents during the making of The Rock, the entire process for Independence Day—from prep and filming to the current post-production phase—had been remarkably smooth.

The reasons for this were rather complex.

First, the collaboration between the two major studios was enough to shield the production from harm.

Second, Duke had fully proven himself over the past two Summer Seasons, demonstrating that his films were fierce competitors during that window. Now, arriving with a massive hundred-million-dollar blockbuster, he forced many competitors, such as Forrest Gump, to back down voluntarily. Even though almost every weekend in the Summer Season featured heavy-hitting releases, going up against other films was always a better bet than clashing with a behemoth like Independence Day.

Finally, and most importantly, Duke's biggest rival had entered a period of turmoil.

Since last October, rumors had been swirling in Hollywood circles that CAA's helmsman, Michael Ovitz, was preparing to sell off his massive twenty-eight percent stake in the agency. He was allegedly leaving the talent representation industry he had spent twenty years building to join a major media conglomerate, accepting an invitation from his childhood friend Michael Eisner to become the new CEO of Walt Disney.

Although Michael Ovitz had not officially stepped down, CAA was inevitably thrust into chaos. A fierce power struggle erupted over Ovitz's shares and position. Even with Ovitz's immense prestige, he couldn't suppress the internal strife fueled by such colossal stakes.

Perhaps Michael Ovitz simply had no desire to suppress it. His mind was set on taking charge of a platform far larger than CAA to realize his greater ambitions.

In truth, Michael Ovitz's choice to climb higher made one thing clear: despite the mythic status CAA would later achieve in rumors, its actual power and influence fell far short of Hollywood's Big Six Companies. Otherwise, Ovitz would never have made the most reckless—and ultimately failed—transition of his career.

When the opportunity arose, both Ron Meyer and Michael Ovitz, the founders of CAA, jumped ship to film studios without hesitation. That alone spoke volumes.

However, Duke remembered very clearly that while Ron Meyer achieved relative success at Universal Pictures, Michael Ovitz's tenure at Walt Disney could only be described as an absolute disaster.

Michael Ovitz might have been a super genius in the agency world and an unparalleled titan, but ruthless reality proved that a man capable of controlling CAA was not necessarily capable of running a film studio. According to countless future analyses, Ovitz failed for only one reason: a lack of ability. Specifically, he lacked the ability to steer a colossal behemoth like Disney.

Michael Eisner's domineering nature played a part, but entering the highest echelons of power in any large corporation inevitably meant facing incredibly complex personnel struggles. A loser might have a thousand excuses, but in the end, it all boiled down to competence.

Regardless, CAA was currently swamped with troubles. Its internal heavyweights were battling for power, and based on Duke's analysis, they wouldn't have the time to meddle in outside affairs for at least the next six months.

By the time Michael Ovitz left for Disney and CAA sorted out its internal hierarchy, Independence Day would have already been playing in North America for quite some time. If the film's theatrical run went smoothly, Duke would use it as leverage to elevate himself far beyond the director he once was. He might even step into the ranks of Hollywood's top-tier commercial directors.

At that point, he would become a highly sought-after collaborator for every major studio, soaring far out of reach for CAA to suppress at will.

In fact, over the past few months, Universal Pictures and Walt Disney had maintained continuous contact with Nancy Josephson. They had no hope of investing in Independence Day, but Duke still had another script registered with the Writers Guild.

This had everything to do with The Rock steadily marching toward a global box office of 400 million dollars. Whether they were indie or commercial directors, filmmakers in Hollywood ultimately had to let their financial results do the talking. If a director's films consistently generated profits, securing investments would never be an issue. However, if a director's films earned critical acclaim but failed at the box office—like certain Oscar-caliber directors—they often had to wait years, or even longer, just to earn another chance behind the camera.

Despite being one of the hottest new directors in Hollywood today, Duke kept a clear head. He knew perfectly well that Universal Pictures and Walt Disney were only keeping in touch with Nancy as a wait-and-see tactic. They were waiting for the box office results of Independence Day. The moment the film failed, these people would inevitably turn their backs, and any talk of collaboration would become a total joke.

"I have some good news."

Duke had just returned to his office after finishing his afternoon work. Sofia, who was flipping through a stack of documents, looked up and said, "Your personal accountant, David, just sent over a financial summary. The second installment of your salary for Independence Day—two million dollars—has cleared into your account."

That was indeed good news. Following Hollywood conventions, the base salaries for cast and crew were paid in three installments. When filming began, Duke had received two million of his five-million-dollar base salary. Now that shooting was complete, another two million had arrived. The final million would have to wait until the film finished its theatrical run in North America.

"Anything else?"

Duke pulled up a chair and sat across from Sofia's desk. "Has the rest of the overseas revenue cut for The Rock arrived yet?"

"The final figures are out." Sofia handed a financial statement directly to Duke. "I just called Warner. The money won't hit the account until October at the earliest."

"October?"

Duke sighed. Warner Brothers' management really knew how to pick their moments. They were essentially forcing him to pour all his heart and soul into Independence Day.

Still, this wasn't a breach of contract, so Duke couldn't exactly complain. He shifted his focus to the numbers on the financial statement.

By now, The Rock had ended its theatrical run in all overseas markets where profit-sharing agreements had been signed. Aside from the previously settled box office shares, Duke Studio would collect another 2.1 million dollars from the overseas box office. As for the other major revenue streams—Videotape and television broadcasting rights—Duke Studio had secured a total of 5 million dollars in shares.

With that, the profit-sharing revenue for The Rock came to a close. Duke had turned a 10-million-dollar investment into more than 27 million dollars in earnings. Even by Hollywood standards, that return on investment was in the highest echelon.

Even though only a portion of that 27 million dollars belonged to him personally, it was still infinitely more lucrative than relying on a flat director's fee.

"Any progress on the rights negotiations?" Duke hadn't forgotten about the film adaptation rights he wanted to purchase.

"Nancy is still negotiating," Sofia said, shaking her head. "It's not going smoothly."

In truth, many issues simply boiled down to price. But with plenty of time on his hands, Duke didn't want to pay an exorbitant premium. Besides, according to the feedback from Nancy and the private investigators he'd hired, there were no competitors vying for the rights at the moment. He could afford to take it slow.

Afterward, Duke made separate calls to his accountant, David, and his mother. He wasn't strapped for cash right now, so he planned to repay his mother's 10-million-dollar loan first. After all, the loan was severely overdue. As for the interest, that would have to wait until Warner completely settled its accounts with Duke Studio.

Then came the cuts owed to Nancy Josephson, his accountants, and his legal team, as well as Sofia Coppola's salary as his personal assistant. Though Duke upheld the fine Hollywood tradition of never settling everything in a single lump sum, he still needed to make partial payments. Expecting people to work without paying them adequately would only lead to bitter consequences down the line.

"Mom, do you know any good stockbrokers?"

Finally, Duke called his mother back. He was a fully grown adult now; unlike when he was under twenty-one, he no longer needed a guardian's signature for large financial transactions, and he had complete authority over his own income. "Yes, Mom. The dollar is depreciating. I just got a portion of my salary, and I want to put it into the stock market."