They managed to finish the recording on January 31st, in a manner marked by distance, fear, and an incandescent form of dread, which amplified in his quarters at the sound of the alarm. Curtis had wrapped up the scenes requiring his attention, but now he faced a long and indisputable scene that kept him in an incandescent state of frustration, weighed down by the unrelenting pressure of the setting.
-We need to do a good job that complements all the work. - Curtis remarked to editor Albert Bintz.
-That might be a solution, but I believe if we do a quick cut, we could better understand how to approach the whole thing. For that reason, and for others, it could be beneficial for us to improve the activity level. I think 160 minutes could be the perfect length for each scene. - Curtis responded, with a tone of obligation and a hint of irritation, his face betraying his impatience as he awaited the next question.
-We need to keep it to a maximum of 130 minutes, no more, no less, and that’s the way I see it. - Albert replied, continuing the editing process. There were many ways to cut, from long takes to slow transitions, but all were filled with inconveniences that made it difficult to compress the scene into the time Albert desired. It was often a point of contention between the two, as they could spend hours arguing over a single scene.
Elsewhere, Arson Michan was completely overwhelmed by the pressure of delivering the film. He had another film lined up, this time working with Billy on a movie apparently based on an unknown reader, entrenched in complete obscurity.
-You must be Chuck Palahniuk. - Arson Michan said.
-Thank you for giving me this opportunity. I don’t think you know how much I appreciate the fact that you’re willing to go ahead with the script I wrote, which, by the way, will be ready in the coming days. - Chuck Palahniuk replied, eager for a break in the industry. It might just be his last chance to get a film made, as he had decided to fully commit to novels.
-That’s not important. I want you to focus on what you do best. That’s why we want you on board. We’re willing to buy Fight Club for $20,000 and offer you an independent exclusivity contract as a potential writer for anywhere from $3,000 to $6,000 per project, depending on the need. - Anson Michen responded, offering a considerable deal, as scripts of this kind typically went for around $2,000, making it a generous offer. With Billy's inflated prices in mind, he demonstrated how to negotiate these minor details, but beyond that, he knew it was best to cut costs where necessary and trim the budget for anyone not hitting the right price point.
-I’ll sign the contract, but could we raise it to $35,000? - Chuck asked, not knowing how to approach it.
-Good boy, we’ll do it, but I’ll add a few extra responsibilities. - Anson added, scribbling down a few additional obligations, all laid out in precise numbers. He included three extra tasks to ensure they had a specific product. The next movie could very well be this one, but he had another project in hand: Donnie Brasco.
It was the awkward moment everyone dreaded, where work was a constant game of push and pull, always with the underlying frustration of being overseen by those who imposed themselves. The atmosphere was filled with the simple hypocrisy of it all. Jim Gianopulos smiled while Terry kept smiling as well, never glancing sideways as they exchanged key information, reflecting the characters of their business relationships.
The folder handed over failed to raise the prices as they had hoped, and there wasn’t enough time to validate the research Billy had done, or at least not corroborate it to such an extent. They added a grid, labeled “Potential Series,” with green figures. For instance, The Flintstones and Looney Tunes were each valued at $200 million, a price that seemed astronomical compared to The Smurfs and others that stood out for different reasons, which brought a smile to Jim Gianopulos' face.
-I think we’d like to collect the money. These prices are out of our budget… however, it’s been a pleasure negotiating with you. - Jim Gianopulos commented, his words signaling that they were extending the meeting as they usually did, likely to frustrate him.
-Why can’t we negotiate? I think what we’re doing is well done. - Terry added with an expression that was completely indifferent to the closing terms that were on the table... pretending came easily to him, something calculated in the total disappointment of a man who lived for the work.
-That’s right, we try to offer good prices. I took the time because I believed in one last negotiation. - Jim said, not losing his cheer. - But no matter what, in the end, money is healthy for the company. It turns out that, among all the people here, I have a boss who can multiply money in ways that some might consider miraculous.
-Well, we’re in a negotiation, and negotiations, that can’t be forgotten. - Terry responded, navigating the requests.
-Hahahaha… Well, Mr. Semel, it’s unfortunate for me to say this, but we’ve reviewed everything. You have a somewhat predictable way of operating, something distant that can often be seen as a pattern of behavior… don’t worry, companies tend to do the same. We know when someone is truly negotiating, and when they aren’t. - Jim explained. The idea was that if they doubled the price or added an extra, there would be no negotiation. They doubled the price of each series, leaving no room for bargaining.
-We expect the check by next week. I lost $500; Billy told me they wouldn’t negotiate, and I believed him, but I failed in a way that now embarrasses me. I think I’m at a loss as to what to do in future cases… I won’t be able to bet against a judge like that. If I take into account the many times they’ve refused, I can’t say I’m wrong. - Jim Gianopulos said, visibly disorganized.
-I think we can. - Terry replied, cut off by the serious look and utter disappointment etched across his face.
-Mr. Semel, believe me when I say your words will go unheard. Have a good day. Tomorrow morning, the press will be informed. Unfortunately, it’s no secret that the payment will be publicly announced, with Warner owing $689 million to Lux Animation. - Jim Gianopulos added. - Rest assured, we will keep the words of all involved confidential.
Jim left the chair across from him empty, relieved by the weight lifted.