Chapter 121: Dollars and Movie Reviews

The night gradually faded, and the July sun climbed into the West Coast sky. The briefly silent City of Angels resumed its hustle and bustle, and the fiercely competitive film industry plunged back into its silent slaughter. The weekend before the Independence Day holiday had officially arrived, bringing with it one of the heaviest productions of the entire summer season: Independence Day.

Although the midnight screening had opened in the early hours, that was a dedicated showing for sci-fi action fans. For most ordinary moviegoers, Friday daytime marked the real start of their viewing.

As the sun rose, the midnight screening box office tally was finalized. The box office numbers for the films that just opened this weekend reached their respective companies at top speed, and then circulated to many interested parties.

In the Fox Building in Century City, Thomas Rothman had just entered his office when Jon Landau, the executive producer of Independence Day representing Fox, walked in. The fat man held a report in his hand, and the brilliant smile on his face squeezed his ugly fat together, making him look particularly amusing.

"Thomas, good news!" he seemed eager to share his joy.

"Let's hear it, Jon."

Thomas Rothman had already guessed what it was from the fat man's face. "Did the midnight screening box office exceed expectations?"

Warner Brothers and Twentieth Century Fox had projected a midnight screening box office of 4.5 million dollars. This was a performance that only the top-tier blockbusters in North America could achieve.

"It didn't just exceed expectations!" Jon Landau slapped the report in his hand, as if trying hard to suppress his excitement. "7.75 million dollars! Thomas, we broke the record! This is the best midnight box office result in North American history!"

"What?" Thomas Rothman stood straight up, seemingly unable to believe it. "Broke the record?"

"Yes!" Jon Landau nodded firmly. "Duke Rosenberg's work has created an unbelievable box office result! 7.75 million dollars, surpassing Batman Returns's 7.54 million! This is the newest North American midnight screening box office record!"

Hearing Jon Landau's confirmation, Thomas Rothman calmed down instead. After all, he was a major corporate CEO with plenty of experience. He gestured for Jon Landau, who was still standing there, to take a seat, and paced back and forth behind his desk a couple of times.

Generally speaking, a film's opening day box office would reach about three times its midnight screening numbers. Based on that calculation, Independence Day's opening day box office could top 20 million dollars. Then what about the opening week box office?

The corners of Thomas Rothman's mouth curled up into an imperceptible smile. Abandoning their previous disputes and cooperating with Duke Rosenberg again was definitely the right move!

Duke Rosenberg could always bring people surprises!

"Jon, call Duke immediately..."

Just as Jon Landau was about to stand up, Thomas Rothman suddenly raised a hand to stop him. "No, I'll call him myself!"

With that, he got the number from the secretary's desk and dialed it directly.

Ever since the sun came up, Duke's mobile phone had been ringing non-stop. The release of the midnight screening box office and its record-breaking performance in North America meant he was fielding numerous calls offering congratulations and looking to build connections.

Executives from Warner Brothers, executives from Twentieth Century Fox, his agent Nancy Josephson and the ICM Talent Agency behind her, the team of lawyers and accountants serving him, the lead actors of the films he had directed and their agents, and even heads of PR firms who had somehow gotten his number.

Chasing success was one of Hollywood's eternal themes. Although it was only a midnight screening hit, it was very clear that all these people were unanimously optimistic about Independence Day.

"No need to be so polite, Thomas. I'm very satisfied with our cooperation. Do Fox's media outlets need to increase their promotional efforts? You think so too? That's great! Like I said, we always have more consensus than disagreements! A celebration party? No rush for that, it can wait a bit..."

Underneath a sun umbrella on Santa Monica Beach, Duke had just hung up with Twentieth Century Fox CEO Thomas Rothman when his mobile phone rang again.

"Duke, nicely done!"

The caller turned out to be George Lucas. Duke offered a few modest words, and Lucas's voice rang out from the receiver again, "You're improving at a speed far beyond my expectations. Even Spielberg didn't do as well as you did in his starting phase. Duke! You just might step into the position of a top-tier commercial director, but make sure you keep a good state of mind!"

"I understand, Uncle Lucas."

Although successfully shooting these films had a deep connection to his decades of accumulated learning, Duke knew exactly where these movies came from, and naturally wouldn't let arrogance go to his head. "I know what to do."

"Congratulations, young man, on setting a new record."

The two exchanged a few more words before hanging up. Duke put away his mobile phone and looked toward the other side of the sun umbrella. Across a small table, Scarlett Johansson was sitting in a child's beach chair, hugging a bucket of ice cream, seemingly eating very happily.

"Why aren't you attending the summer camp organized by the acting school?" Duke asked.

"The school only hired some third-rate director to organize the summer camp!" Scarlett Johansson grabbed a tissue and wiped the cream from her mouth. "You're about to be the most outstanding director in Hollywood. I think I can learn more by following you than by participating in a summer vacation camp."

"Thank you, darling. I didn't realize you had so much faith in me."

Hearing Duke's casual response, the little girl put down her ice cream, got off the beach chair, and walked around to the back of the sun umbrella. She grabbed a can of beer from the ice bucket, pulled it open with force, and presented it right in front of Duke's eyes.

"How rare," Duke muttered as he took it.

He tilted his head back and took a large gulp. The icy sensation drove away the oppressive summer heat. Duke let out a satisfied little burp. When he lowered the beer can, he realized Scarlett was still staring at him.

"Did something happen, Scar?" Duke asked.

"Umm..." Scarlett's eyes darted around, and she pointed at the beer can. "Can I have a taste?"

"Wait until you're sixteen!" Duke glared at her.

Scarlett curled her lip and muttered under her breath, "Stingy, I knew it would be like this. It's not like I haven't drank it before."

"What did you say?" Duke frowned.

"Nothing."

Scarlett clasped her hands behind her back, swaying her upper body as she returned to her beach chair, continuing to mumble, "Stingy, stingy..."

Hearing the chanting that sounded like a wizard casting a spell, Duke almost laughed. He pointed at Scarlett's cup. "Just one sip!"

"Mhm..."

The little girl nodded enthusiastically. Once Duke poured enough beer to cover the bottom of her cup, she picked it up and downed it in one go, staring eagerly at Duke. "Can I have one more?"

Duke wasn't about to be fooled by her act. He shook his head. His phone happened to ring again, so he simply ignored the pitiful-looking little girl.

Duke was in an excellent mood. The immense pressure brought on by the massive investment had largely dissipated with the record-breaking midnight screening box office.

East of Santa Monica, in a mansion located in Beverly Hills—considered one of the most luxurious residential areas in the world—the atmosphere was extremely oppressive. A few servants moved about lightly, afraid of triggering the fury of the old man sitting on the living room sofa.

The old man was none other than Sean Connery. Ever since he took a phone call, he had seemed to turn into a ferocious beast ready to devour someone.

7.75 million dollars!

A figure that left him both astonished and furious!

Sean Connery didn't even doubt that once today's single-day box office was released, it would be a number that sent him into a towering rage—even though he had taken action last night!

When The Rock became a massive box office hit, he had been mired in a mud pit and unable to mount a forceful counterattack. Now, he couldn't just watch as the guy who had done all that to him continued to succeed. Anyone who offended him had to pay the price; it was the simplest logic in the world.

Only, could professional movie critics really stop Independence Day?

Sean Connery's brows furrowed tightly. Although he hadn't gone to see Independence Day, word from Warner Brothers and Twentieth Century Fox indicated that both companies had convened high-level executive meetings as soon as the midnight screening numbers came out. Rumor had it they were going to increase the promotional budget for Independence Day from the original 25 million to 35 million dollars!

These film companies never let go of their purse strings unless they saw profit. Clearly, the market had given them immense confidence.

Indeed, a 93% "A-level" audience approval rating from the midnight screenings made it worth their while!

Even though Sean Connery desperately wished to see Independence Day flop completely, he had to admit that such audience word-of-mouth was downright terrifying. If it had the same reputation-to-box-office conversion rate as The Rock, this film's final box office would absolutely stop at a monstrous number.

If everything he deduced came true, Duke Rosenberg would stand among Hollywood's top-tier directors and become the target of pursuit for numerous companies. As a washed-up figure like himself, what could he possibly use to deal with Duke in the future? How could he avenge this deep-seated hatred of being insulted and ruined!

"It's only the midnight screening box office! So what if he pulls in 20 million on opening day? Movies that start high and crash early have never been rare! You won't succeed!"

Sean Connery's dark, sinister voice revealed his inner fury. He indeed had no evidence, but the terrible things that had happened to him didn't need evidence!

"You absolutely will not succeed!"

He picked up his mobile phone and dialed his publicist, Jack. The news from the phone somewhat soothed Sean Connery's mood. Following Jack's words, he quickly ordered a servant to bring today's newspapers over. They contained freshly published movie reviews—the three million dollars he had thrown out was showing tremendous results!

The servant hurried toward the estate's gatehouse to fetch the papers. Sean Connery's thoughts shifted in another direction. It wasn't that he hadn't sought help from the CAA backing him, but CAA had mostly ignored him. The top-tier agents at CAA were all busy fighting for the position soon to be vacated by Michael Ovitz; where would they find the energy to care about anything else?

Besides, in Hollywood, a place that always chased the successful, he was already a has-been.

The servant returned carrying a large stack of newspapers and magazines. Sean Connery flipped to the entertainment section, and a hint of joy appeared in his eyes.