Victor wasn't just confused. He was utterly, profoundly baffled.
Is he insane? The thought, hot and sharp, shot through Victor's mind. He did his best to keep his face a perfect, neutral mask, but his boss had to be crazy.
From any Hollywood perspective, Titanic wasn't just a movie; it was a plague. It was a $200-million-dollar black hole, a cautionary tale that was already making Waterworld look like a modest success.
The theater chains were only agreeing to show the damn thing out of a pained, grudging respect for the two Big Six studios behind it. Even then, they were demanding favorable terms and fewer screens.
Victor knew the scuttlebutt. Hell, the whole town knew. Fox and Paramount weren't just "not optimistic"; they were desperate. They were trapped. They had this colossal, unsellable asset on their books, and no one wanted to be the last one holding it.
He'd heard that just last month, they'd tried to dump the entire film on Time Warner for $550 million. The Warner execs had reportedly laughed them out of the room. "Five-fifty?" one had apparently said, "I wouldn't take it off your hands for two hundred. Whoever wants that albatross can have it."
And now, his boss... his boss, the smartest, most ruthless man he'd ever met... wanted to buy in.
The test screening was over. The theater was emptying out. The critics and theater reps were leaving in a cloud of sympathetic murmurs and head-shaking, their faces all saying the same thing: Beautiful. Magnificent. A complete financial disaster.
Zane and Victor were the only ones who stayed.
"Victor," Zane said, his voice brimming with a terrifying, cheerful energy. "What are you spacing out for? Let's go."
Victor finally looked at him. "Boss... with all due respect... what are you doing?"
"What?" Zane looked genuinely offended. "Man, don't look at me like I'm an idiot, okay? I'm not kidding. I really think this ship has potential. Trust me."
"Potential to do what, Zane? Bankrupt us?"
"How much did you say?" Zane just waved the concern away, his mind clearly on another planet. "It's not a problem. You know I made a lot of money in the foreign exchange market. It's fine. Now, you go talk to Paramount and Fox."
"What about you?" Victor asked, feeling like he was the only sane person left in the world.
"Me?" Zane grinned, his eyes already scanning the lobby. "I'm going to go find Director Cameron. He looked like he needed a drink." He clapped Victor on the shoulder, a jolt of pure, irrational confidence. "Go. Go!"
Victor just stood there for a second, his head spinning. This is 'Titanic.' The $1.8 billion-dollar Titanic. This wasn't a gamble. It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. If they could get a piece...
He straightened his tie and went to find the executives.
...
In a sterile, high-floor meeting room at 20th Century Fox, the mood was funereal.
"What?!"
A Paramount executive, a man Victor recognized as one of their top finance guys, stared at him. His face was a mask of pure, unadulterated disbelief. "You said... Wald Pictures... is willing to co-distribute?"
A Fox exec next to him just frowned, his eyes narrowing. "Victor, are you sure you're not... joking? This isn't funny."
Victor felt the weight of their suspicion. He was the kid from the startup studio, coming into the lions' den and offering to buy their sickest lion.
"Yes, sir, that's what I meant," Victor said, keeping his voice perfectly level. "And we can even... spend money to buy part of your investment share."
The instant he said "buy part of your investment share," the atmosphere in the room changed. It was like a physical drop in pressure. He saw it—a flash of pure, predatory glee in their eyes. They were old foxes, and they hid it in a nanosecond, their professional, somber masks snapping back into place.
Were they willing to sell? Victor thought. Oh, God, yes. They'd cut off their own arms to sell.
"Victor," one of the Fox execs said, his voice a low, serious rumble. "I... we will, of course, need to report this matter to the higher-ups. You'll need to wait."
"I understand," Victor said.
He was politely, and very quickly, escorted out of the room.
...
That same afternoon, the news of Victor's offer ripped through the executive floors of two major studios.
At 20th Century Fox, the five key players gathered in an emergency meeting: CEO Bill Mechanic, President Tom Rothman, the COO, the Production Director, and the film's producer, Grant Hill.
Bill Mechanic, the CEO, broke the silence. He was the one who had championed Titanic. This was his baby... and his cross to bear. "Everyone," he said, his voice heavy. "Let's talk."
"I think it's acceptable," the COO, Jack, said immediately. He was Tom Rothman's man. "Let's be honest. The ship's prospects don't look good. If we can cut our losses now, it's a smart move."
"I agree," the production director echoed. "This project has been delayed for four years. We can't keep bleeding. How do we explain this to the board? To Chairman Murdoch?"
Mechanic felt the walls closing in. Rothman, his ambitious subordinate, was practically salivating. Rothman wanted this to fail. He wanted to oust Mechanic and take his job, and Titanic was the flaw he'd been looking for.
And now, they were forcing his hand.
Mechanic's fists clenched. He wanted to fight, to tell them to believe. But he was trapped. He gave in.
"Fine!" he snapped, the word cracking in the tense room. "I agree to sell our investment share. But I absolutely will not agree to sell all of it! Only a part. Otherwise, what were the last four years for? Were our efforts in vain?!"
He was almost shouting.
Tom Rothman smiled, a thin, satisfied expression. "It's fine, Bill, as long as you agree. We're all on the same side when it comes to safeguarding the company's interests." He leaned back, the picture of a reasonable man. "I agree. We should only sell a portion. We can't ignore the... possibility... however small, that the movie becomes a hit. Cutting our losses doesn't mean we give up completely."
Everyone in the room nodded. The decision was made.
...
Across town, at Paramount Pictures, the conversation was shorter and far less emotional.
"Sell? Why wouldn't we sell?" Sherry Lansing, the formidable president of Paramount, said to her team. "Gentlemen, remember one thing. We have been tied to this albatross for years. It's a full $75 million of our capital, just sitting there. Are we really going to spend tens of millions more on promoting it?"
She shook her head. "I think we can sell. Of course... this Zane Blackwood is no fool."
Her eyes sharpened. "Judging from his past—Toy Story, the tech stocks—his luck is... annoyingly good. He's a shrewd kid. If he dares to make a big bet, maybe he sees something we don't. Maybe the ship can be a hit."
She made her decision. "So, even if we sell, we don't sell all of it. We keep some in our hands. And," she added, a cold, hard smile on her face, "since he wants to buy, he must pay a high price. Our assets aren't that easy to acquire."
The execs around the table nodded. As for the "co-distribution" part of Victor's offer? They didn't even bother to discuss it.
Co-distribution? Sherry thought, almost laughing. Dream on.
She knew how that game was played. You say the promotional cost is $20 million, but you just handle it through your own media subsidiaries. You move money from your left pocket to your right pocket and call it an "expense." The actual cash you spend might only be $5 million.
There was no way in hell they were letting an outsider like Wald Pictures in on that side of the ledger.
No, as far as both Fox and Paramount were concerned, the impression was set.
Zane Blackwood, the wunderkind, had finally overplayed his hand. He was just a fool with too much money.
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