Walking into the ballroom, Ryan spotted DreamWorks' three co-founders almost immediately and made his way over to greet David Geffen, Jeffrey Katzenberg, and Steven Spielberg.
The three exchanged a few polite words with him, but it was hard to expect someone like Ryan to leave a lasting impression on people at their level.
After stepping away from their circle, he didn't hang around the edges of the room. He got to work, moving from group to group and keeping himself in conversation.
He talked with a production executive from Warner Bros. about the Harry Potter property they had acquired the previous year. He spoke with a Japanese-American executive from Sony Columbia about the upcoming Godzilla release.
He had a drink with an associate distribution director from Paramount. He asked a Miramax executive about where things stood with consolidating the Lord of the Rings rights. He got a sense of third-tier actor salary ranges from a William Morris agent.
A sizeable crowd had formed around the three DreamWorks founders. Ryan watched from a distance for a while but didn't rejoin them.
DreamWorks had real ambition. The three of them genuinely wanted to break the near-monopoly that the Hollywood major studios held over the industry. But that path was going to prove impassable, and the reason came down to distribution and the broader industry chain, particularly distribution.
In the years ahead, DreamWorks would manage to build a solid domestic distribution operation in North America, but internationally they would remain dependent on the majors to move their films. That dependency, combined with everything else that came with it, would eventually force the company to close.
The biggest slice of the pie in traditional film distribution was locked up by the major studios, and there was no practical way to pry it loose from the outside.
Ryan was sure of this. Fighting an opponent who controlled the terrain, the timing, and the relationships was a losing proposition almost by definition.
If Starlight Entertainment ever grew large enough to face that problem, it would have to find a different way around it rather than through it.
The thought surfaced unexpectedly and then wouldn't quite go away.
Practically speaking, that was a distant concern, closer to a fantasy than a real business problem at this stage. But everyone was allowed a few of those.
Ryan shook his head. Right now, being realistic was the only thing that made sense.
"Good evening," someone said beside him.
"Good evening," Ryan replied.
The man was in his thirties, with an open, straightforward face that naturally inspired a degree of trust.
He raised his wine glass toward Ryan, who wasn't holding a drink and simply nodded in acknowledgment. A server passed nearby and Ryan took a glass, raised it briefly toward the man, and had a sip.
"You're Mr. Anderson, aren't you?" the man said.
Ryan looked at him and thought briefly that if this man had been in Abu Dhabi with them, they might have walked out with another ten million in investment.
"Ryan Anderson," he said.
"Edward Buck." The man extended his hand. "Agent with Mooreby Agency."
Ryan shook it. "Good to meet you."
Edward smiled, the honesty in his face deepening into something almost comical. "I saw in the trades a few days ago that your company is looking for directors and actors?"
Coming to an event like this was standard practice for an agent trying to move clients into better positions. It wasn't easy at the best of times, especially when the clients in question weren't at the top of anyone's list. He had recently lost a good placement for his most promising client because that same client had made an unreasonable demand at the wrong moment and the opportunity had walked out the door. He was casting around for something to replace it.
Ryan could read the situation easily enough. "Does your agency have anyone suitable?"
Edward didn't answer directly. Instead he gestured toward a quieter section of the ballroom near the terrace. "Shall we talk over there?"
"Sure," Ryan said.
They moved to a spot near the terrace doors. A small group of five or six people were gathered nearby, with one man in the middle speaking in an animated, slightly elevated pitch, either pitching a project or soliciting investment.
Edward said, "I read about Starlight Entertainment and The Purge in the press. The reports suggested the company had been having financial difficulties."
Ryan replied without hesitation, "That information is out of date. The financing came through. Starlight Entertainment is in a strong position now."
Edward's expression warmed noticeably. "Is the budget really eleven million dollars?"
Ryan smiled and said nothing.
If the actual budget were eleven million, Starlight Entertainment's door would have been trampled by every agency in town by now. Edward was well-informed enough to know that. The production budget had almost certainly been padded for public purposes. That actually made things more interesting, not less. The competition for positions on the film would be smaller.
His client needed a feature credit badly. A directing credit on anything, really. The money was secondary.
"I have a director on my roster who might be a good fit," Edward said, lowering his voice slightly. "He's written episode scripts for The Boys Next Door and The Young and the Restless, worked as assistant director and executive producer across three television series, and directed several episodes of The X-Files. He's looking to make the jump from television to features."
Ryan nodded. The X-Files credit was worth noting.
In this era, television and film occupied very different rungs of the industry ladder. Even well-known actors were pushing to move into features, and television directors were no different.
Ryan pulled out a card and handed it over. "Company address and contact details are on there. Bring him in whenever works."
Edward took the card quickly. "I'll call ahead."
They exchanged a few more pleasantries before Edward excused himself with the same open smile he'd worn throughout.
Not a bad outcome. The X-Files credit was at least something worth following up on. The details would have to be discussed in person.
Ryan was about to move on when the conversation coming from the small group nearby caught his attention.
The man at the center of the circle had gotten louder and more agitated.
"Blockbuster's store rental model is finished. It's only a matter of time. They're slow, their inventory management is poor, and they have no real integration of their content library. Netflix's online rental service is the future. Investing in Netflix means investing in what's coming."
He kept going. "Netflix built a monthly subscription model. Consumers pay a flat fee and can rent as many films as they like with no late return penalties. Netflix needs capital. It needs a platform..."
A man wearing glasses and dark hair cut in. "How many paying subscribers does your company have right now? How many do you expect to add next year? What's your projected timeline to an IPO?"
"Netflix was only just founded," the man said. "Our target is the long term..."
The man with glasses shook his head and walked away.
Ryan had heard someone introduce him earlier in the evening. He was a senior investment executive from Disney.
The rest of the small group drifted off shortly after.
The executives from the major companies clearly weren't interested.
Ryan, on the other hand, was very interested.
He walked over and introduced himself. "Hello. Ryan Anderson."
The man looked up and nodded. "Reed Hastings."
He had noticed Ryan nearby and said directly, "Are you interested in what I was describing?"
"That model is genuinely interesting," Ryan said, keeping it noncommittal.
Reed Hastings assessed him for a moment. "It's more than interesting. It's inevitable. As the internet develops, this company will overtake Blockbuster."
Having spent years working in online video back home, Ryan knew exactly who Reed Hastings was and exactly what Netflix would become.
He glanced briefly toward where the DreamWorks founders were standing, then looked back. "Could we talk somewhere?"
Reed Hastings paused. "Who are you, exactly?"
Ryan understood what he was actually asking. "I'm the CEO of Starlight Entertainment."
"I know the name," Reed said. "Small company, mostly direct-to-video product." He shook his head without hesitation. "There's no real reason for us to talk."
"I can invest in your company," Ryan said.
Reed looked at him with something that seemed like genuine appreciation. "I mean that, thank you. I can see you understand what we're building."
He paused, then said with a slightly apologetic smile, "But what Netflix needs right now isn't just capital. We need a major platform partnership and access to serious content volume. Starlight Entertainment can't provide those things. An alliance between two small players doesn't move the needle for us."
Ryan understood the logic. He had read about this period of Netflix's early life in his previous life. A few years down the road, Hastings would be so close to the edge that he would actually approach Blockbuster directly and offer to sell the company to his own arch-rival. The idea for Netflix had reportedly come from Hastings' frustration at being charged late fees on a video rental from Blockbuster. That kind of origin story didn't make for a patient founder.
Ryan tried a few more angles, but Hastings held firm.
He was right, in a practical sense. The things Netflix urgently needed at this stage, content access and a large established platform, were not things Starlight Entertainment could offer. Sometimes an investment offer needed to be more than money to be genuinely useful.
Ryan let it go. He couldn't force the issue. But Netflix had now entered his thinking clearly, and it opened up a range of possibilities he hadn't been focused on before.
The timing wasn't right yet. His available capital was going into stocks, and he couldn't take on a major new investment at this stage. And if he remembered correctly, Netflix was barely operational right now, essentially being held together on a shoestring. Hastings was unlikely to keep the company running for more than two years without a bigger commitment from somewhere.
Ryan watched him walk away and slowly ran a finger along his jaw.
He would need to keep a close eye on Netflix.
This had been a productive evening overall, more productive than he had expected when he walked in. The conversation with Hastings alone had made it worthwhile.
Ryan moved along the terrace side of the ballroom, still turning things over in his mind.
A little further on, he stopped.
Leonardo DiCaprio was nearby, and he was in the middle of chatting up a blonde woman who clearly had no interest in being chatted up.
The woman was wearing a short cocktail dress in a pale yellow, long hair down, tall and slim with the kind of proportions that naturally drew attention. On a delicate face she had green eyes that carried a natural, almost involuntary melancholy in them.
Blonde, long-legged. Exactly Leonardo's type, by every available account.
The woman was not enjoying herself. Her expression, when she thought Leonardo wasn't looking directly at her, made her feelings reasonably clear.