Who wants to watch a company lick its wounds? Well, in Hollywood, everyone seems to be licking theirs; they do it constantly in the news, licking their wounds while egos dance at L.A. parties, in the hidden shacks in the hills, on paradisiacal islands, and inside private bars. Those clubs were marvelous—behind the scenes, rumors raced through every corridor about every move anyone in the industry made; everything was known, and every part of the actors' lives was shouted out loud. Everything leaked, at least to those with the right connections. Actresses were labeled, actors too, and the world devoted itself to silence—what mattered more than the truth? The truth seemed to fade in days, in years. Young women of legal age chased empty promises and returned home disappointed, manipulated by lies, hatred, and the reality of an industry that controlled the media. Maybe it was in 2007, when the blacklist surfaced—when trash was sorted and the tears of real people were the first thing forgotten.
You close your eyes and you don't do anything more, or maybe you just get lucky—and for the misfortune of some, they die inside their own dreams of disappointment.
—Production is one of the toughest chains. Take it or leave it. —remarked a man, maybe sixty, more venomous than most. Yet the girl's idea of becoming her own producer, investing her own talent, seemed to give him a real headache.
—Thank you, but I don't need anything extra. —Winona replied, refusing him. She had carried the idea of a script in her head for at least three months; every day she drafted it the way she saw fit. It was incredibly hard for her to agree on terms. She shook her head, though she knew she might eventually need the kind of help no one ever wanted to handle.
—It's a shame you think that way, but here's a piece of advice: you can't do anything when you're too afraid to chase your goals. —the old man replied, backed by a film studio with deals tied behind his back with MGM and Universal. The feeling of seeing people's stares and knowing maybe no one would lend a hand.
There was Billy, the girl thought.
—If you don't do it with me, no one's going to. Rumor has it you've been wanting to make this movie for months. If your actor friend won't fund you, it's unlikely anyone else will. —the fat man said, utterly lost in the weightlessness of the offer, with that burning desire in his eyes that clung to people—how ironic to say.
—I'll take note. —She nodded as best she could, a bit nervous, and stepped out of that small room with ceiling windows. Luckily, the door was open and there was no smoke. The urge to take an aspirin for her headache was almost a need. She sighed as she walked faster, hoping for anything that would stop the pounding in her head.
…
The numbers were more than clear: eighty percent of the time, projects landed on his desk because they were very good—and this time the momentum was only growing. Two of his recent films had what they called a "ticket-boom success," a magic formula delivering hit after hit.
The Magician's Nephew, the first installment, had grossed 190 million across the U.S., and 200 million worldwide, crushing Disney's chances of surpassing it by just 10 million. Still, they were obliterated by the force of Monsters Inc., which raked in 400 million in its first two weeks worldwide. Pixar had become the alma mater of American audiences, who saw 3D animation as the future—a new bridge between old and new—now cemented in the strongest animated studio Hollywood had.
So much so that the distribution company founded by Billy, now expanded to 25 people with powerful global contacts, decided to move In Search of the Treasure, originally slated for year-end, to the start of the year. January would be the month when the story of the gold-filled American city would come to life. The Pied Piper of Jamel would be moved to late February.
1998 would be the year of animation—a brutal calendar: Robots for June 1998, The Polar Express for December, Dinosaur for late October, The Steadfast Tin Soldier for April, Brother Bear for September, The Road to El Dorado for January, Sinbad the Sailor for May, The Pied Piper of Jamel for February, Narnia: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe for 1998, The Puzzle—the first film by the fourth team, made by Jared Bowosky, an animated horror piece for children based on a Lovecraft myth and rated 12+—for October, and One Piece for August 1998.
Ten out of twelve months—Lux Animation's most brutal year yet—would completely change the way people saw cinema, with stories mostly crafted by hand by Billy himself, and others that had required two to three years of work, like The Pied Piper of Jamel, for which he had written a book, and Bowosky, who had created a comic for The Puzzle.
—We're going to make history. —Billy whispered, tying his hair back. He was setting his sights on a billion, wanting what they called a major investment: buying the entire Regency Agents catalog and proposing to acquire 40% of the company while keeping the library in his hands and investing 200 million with no strings attached into the art of Arnon Milchan and his partners, who signed on the condition that Billy gave them freedom.
He simply said, "Make good movies. Bring me four new productions for 1999." It was hard—and a bit irreverent—to imagine it might not turn out well. Regency had long been hunted by every major studio, from Fox to Warner. None had managed to make them see stars. Billy simply paid the partners their millions—150 million plus 200 million as investment. Fox had offered 600, but only as reinvestment over four years with restrictive clauses.
Regency was perfect for that old-school '80s and '90s style, and Billy wanted a library worth having, filled with captivating stories and the mysticism only that bygone era held. Fashion is history when love, passion, and charisma lie at the center of what stands before you.
—A lot of money for one company, but it's my ticket to other huge projects. Canada is a major player and wants a slice of their production stages, while the Latin American studios seem ambiguous—but that makes it even better. —Billy murmured to himself.
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