Chapter 90: Tiered Profit-Sharing

"I won't change my style. That's right! Just explosions, and even more explosions!" As the press conference neared its end, Duke fielded questions from a few media outlets. When asked about the subject of his new film, his answer was simple and punchy: "Next summer, you will see unprecedented explosions. The entirety of North America, and even the whole world, will be engulfed in flames."

"Director Rosenberg!" a reporter called out. "Are you trying to destroy the whole world?"

"If I could," Duke shrugged, "I'd love to do exactly that in a movie! Hopefully, I'll get the chance in the future."

"Could you reveal the specific premise?" another reporter asked.

"It will be a sci-fi film," Duke answered right on cue. "Roughly speaking, it's a story about aliens invading Earth and humanity mounting a desperate counterattack."

With that said, he shot a look to the host, who took the cue and announced the end of the press conference.

Heading backstage, Duke tossed the signed agreement to Nancy Josephson. Leaving the Four Seasons Hotel's press hall, he turned into a side stairwell and went straight up to the third floor, where Warner Brothers and Twentieth Century Fox were hosting another media party in one of the banquet halls.

The contract signed during the press conference had just been for show. The actual agreement had been finalized days ago, only after Nancy had waged several grueling rounds of tug-of-war negotiations against the joint production committee formed by Warner Brothers and Twentieth Century Fox.

Initially, Nancy had demanded a top-tier director's contract for Duke: a $15 million base salary plus twenty percent of the film's total gross revenue. The producers rejected it without a second thought. The two sides then locked into a lengthy bargaining phase. Warner and Fox knew perfectly well that Duke's current track record gave him the leverage to demand a share of the profits, but their counteroffer sat at a mere $5 million base plus fifteen percent of the net box office revenue.

To reach a deal, both sides inevitably had to make compromises. Over a week of negotiations, they probed each other's bottom lines until—with Duke's consent and the tacit approval of the Warner and Fox executives—they finally reached an agreement on the most contentious issue: the director's compensation.

Because Duke had focused his efforts on securing a cut of the box office, he had to compromise on his base salary. His combined upfront fee for directing, writing, and serving as executive producer was halved from his initial expectations, leaving him with just $5 million.

Getting that box office cut was no easy feat, either. Hollywood's production and distribution companies were vampires; without the guarantee of massive profits, they would never easily loosen their grip on the purse strings.

It was a tiered profit-sharing agreement. Duke would be compensated through a combination of an advance and a percentage of the box office. He would first receive his $5 million base fee in three installments, followed by a cut of the profits based on the film's eventual box office performance.

If the North American box office for Independence Day merely crossed the $100 million mark, Duke would only receive a base bonus of $500,000. If it surpassed $150 million, he would earn five percent of the North American box office. Breaking $200 million bumped that share to ten percent, $250 million pushed it to fifteen percent, and crossing $300 million would max out his cut at twenty percent.

As for the overseas box office, the base threshold sat at $150 million, which would net him another $500,000 bonus. From there, every additional $100 million would increase his cut by five percent, capping out at twenty percent.

The better the film sold, the more the director stood to earn. It was a contract that thoroughly bound Duke's fate to the success of the movie.

This kind of tiered profit-sharing structure for high-profile core creators would soon become the standard for Hollywood blockbusters. On one hand, it incentivized the key creative personnel to pour their hearts into the project; on the other, it mitigated the enormous risks associated with sky-high upfront production costs.

If he wanted a massive payday, the solution was simple: do whatever it took to make the film as spectacular and crowd-pleasing as possible.

When Duke entered the banquet hall, representatives from Warner Brothers and Twentieth Century Fox were already waiting by the door. They led him straight to Jeff Robinov and Tim Fisher, who made the introductions as Duke greeted the various media personnel scattered throughout the room.

The banquet hall was incredibly spacious—roughly the size of three basketball courts—yet it was packed to the brim with people. This turnout was a testament to the sheer drawing power of Warner and Fox. The two studios were no longer mere independent production and distribution companies; they were backed by massive media conglomerates. The promotional muscle they could flex was simply beyond anything an independent Hollywood studio could ever hope to match.

Naturally, this worked to the immense benefit of both Duke and Independence Day. If it hadn't, he wouldn't have had Nancy pulling strings behind the scenes to facilitate the partnership between the two companies in the first place.

An outstanding film required an equally outstanding distribution network and media promotion platform. That was one of the most fundamental truths in Hollywood.

Almost everyone in the banquet hall belonged to media outlets operating under the umbrellas of Time Warner and News Corporation. With Nancy Josephson sticking by his side to whisper reminders, navigating the social scene wasn't too difficult for Duke. Whenever an editor from a News Corporation tabloid intentionally threw out an overly intrusive question, he smoothly dodged it, playfully deflecting the topic out toward the Pacific Ocean beyond Malibu Beach.

He was willing to play along with the promotional game, but actively airing out his personal secrets was a line Duke refused to cross. Besides, this was still the early phase of the film's marketing campaign; it wasn't nearly time to bring out the big guns.

"Duke, this is Robert Shaye, the president of New Line Pictures!"

Having finished dealing with the press, Duke had moved over to mingle with the studio executives. Nancy Josephson murmured the approaching man's name and title directly into his ear.

"Hello, Mr. Shaye."

"Hello, Duke."

Robert Shaye seemed to be in a mediocre mood. He gave a brief, perfunctory handshake before probing, "I heard you have another script. Perhaps you might consider New Line as a partner."

"I'm sure there will be an opportunity to collaborate in the future," Duke replied with a polite brush-off.

Although New Line had recently been acquired by Warner, Robert Shaye remained its largest individual shareholder and retained total autonomy over its operations. So, while New Line fell under the umbrella of the Time Warner Group, its filmmaking endeavors were completely independent of the conglomerate's other studios.

In other words, it was still the same old New Line that would gleefully bleed its partners dry without a second thought.

Past, present, and future, New Line had an atrocious reputation. Other Hollywood studios at least knew how to show a little restraint, trying their best to sweep their dirty laundry deep under the rug. But under Robert Shaye's control, practices like concealing box office numbers, withholding pay from cast and crew, and delaying profit distributions to investors were standard operating procedure. Right now, because they were largely dealing with smaller projects, the media and the public remained relatively unaware of their shady dealings.

But Duke remembered the future Lord of the Rings trilogy. Nobody ever managed to calculate exactly how much box office revenue New Line had hidden, though it was said that after reaching an out-of-court settlement with the Tolkien estate, they had to pay hundreds of millions of dollars in damages. Then there was the poor director, Peter Jackson. New Line made an absolute fortune from the trilogy, yet they stubbornly refused to hand over his $15 million directorial salary. They dragged their feet for nearly two years, ultimately forcing the New Zealander to take them to court.

When looking at Robert Shaye and the New Line Pictures he represented, these were the memories that instantly surfaced in Duke's mind. Regardless of whether it was a question of credibility or sheer capital, New Line simply wasn't on his list of potential partners.

After exchanging a few more empty pleasantries with Robert Shaye, Duke took a lap around the banquet hall. A crowd quickly gathered around him, largely composed of talent agents looking to aggressively pitch their actors to the director. The agents whose clients had already received audition invitations were particularly relentless, praising their actors to the high heavens.

"Director Rosenberg."

A female talent agent stepped squarely into Duke's path, blocking his way as she waved over a Black man and woman standing nearby. "Will, Halle..."

The man had a strikingly memorable pair of protruding ears, while Duke recognized the woman from previous auditions—the future Academy Award-winning actress, Halle Berry.

The production team had already sent Will Smith an audition invitation. Clearly, this agent had her sights set on securing more than just his role.

"Will and Halle know each other very well. They would be an absolutely perfect fit to play a couple in your film..."

The agent babbled on and on. When she finally paused to take a breath, Duke held up a hand. "Miss..."

Realizing she hadn't even bothered to introduce herself, he cut straight to the point. "I'll take your suggestion into consideration!"

With that said, Duke spotted another group of people making a beeline for him and hastily retreated to the restroom. When he reemerged, he avoided the center of the banquet hall entirely, slipping through a side door and stepping out onto the massive front balcony. Because this third-floor terrace overlooked the hotel's main entrance and the bustling street below, people seeking a quiet conversation avoided it, while those looking to network stayed inside. As a result, Duke finally secured a rare moment of peace and quiet.

Those talent agents were remarkably relentless; in their desperation to pitch their actors, they were perfectly capable of talking his ear off for ten minutes straight.

Standing by the balcony railing, Duke glanced back over his shoulder. Through the drapes, he could just faintly make out the throngs of people inside the banquet hall, all desperately hustling for an opportunity. Over two years ago, he had been right there among them. Now, he was the one with the power to decide their fates.

"Could you wait here for a moment?"

Sofia Coppola led a mother-daughter pair through the bustling crowd and pointed toward the balcony. "I asked Nancy. She said Duke is out here."

"Sofia..." The little girl's eyes gleamed as she looked down and asked, "Can I go out and meet him by myself?"

"Oh?" Sofia tilted her head, looking at the young girl with amusement. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure Duke wouldn't want to be influenced by your opinions," she replied.

With her hands clasped behind her back, the little girl slowly pushed aside the curtain separating the banquet hall from the balcony. Looking a bit giddy, she turned to the middle-aged blonde woman beside her. "Mom always tells me that you have to fight for your own opportunities."

"Hmm... all right." Seeing that the girl's mother wasn't raising any objections, Sofia simply nodded.

Mrs. Leah's goddaughter clearly possessed a maturity and cunning that far exceeded her age. Then again, the man out on the balcony was no fool either. What would happen when the big fox and the little fox finally crossed paths?

As she pulled back the drape and stepped out onto the balcony, the little girl couldn't help but pout. If her godmother hadn't gone to Israel and wasn't scheduled to return until next month, she never would have begged her mother to seek out Sofia Coppola for a favor.