17th September 1998 (Monday)
Ricky Stirling (POV)
THUMP
Slowly I bring my eyes up to meet Daisy's, from the stack of an assortment of publications that she dumped on my hotel room desk heavily.
"This is all of it, then?" I pointed towards the pile of papers.
She huffs out a breath before replying, "Yep. Every single publication from the past week that has mentioned you in any capacity whatsoever." She finished after I had begun sorting through them, catching the headlines, or names of articles and reviews, and I gotta say… Noice.
'Atonement: The Art of Apology on Screen-'
'Ricky Stirling's latest creation - Writing words in Ink and Film-'
'Ricky Stirling's Atonement - A Cinematic Confession-'
"Not that I'm complaining, but… why the fuck are all the review titles just really stupid puns?" Even knowing the answer, I am tempted to ask out loud in incredulity.
Daisy just shrugged, "They are critics… they nitpick on movies cause they can't make them, of course, they'll want to sound smart doing it." She raised an eyebrow in a matter-of-fact tone, eliciting a sigh from me.
Soon enough, I got to the 'box office' pile.
'Atonement - Turning regret into revenue-'
'Counting sins and tickets-'
Making money, Mending hearts- "Oh that's just lazy!" I exclaimed, slapping the article on the table, one that had covered the weekend box office performance of the film worldwide, and projected a $200 million gross at a minimum, dubbing the phenomenon 'Ricky-mania'.
It's the NY Post, what did you expect?"
"I don't know- a better pun maybe? Something like… 'Finding Salvation in Sales' or y'know- just a normal fucking headline?!"
"I think it's good." She said… Oh, I see. Her taste of humor has been annihilated… She's too far gone. She can no longer see sense, nor be saved…
After a long, drawn-out sigh reflecting sheer exasperation, "Say, how's Grover doing? He's been working on it for weeks now, and we need a final cut soon.'
"I checked in yesterday, and he still needs a few weeks. He's almost done, he just- don't tell him I said this, okay?" I nod along, "He doesn't want to disappoint you, or squander the chance you gave him, so he's practically living in the lab. Keith and Norman had to carry him out, kicking and screaming, into a car, before driving to his house for a shower. The second they carted him off, everyone else flooded the air with a bottle of perfume. Karla said she had been farted on by a skunk before while out camping, and Grover was worse… It was an interesting couple of days." She finished, as the room descended into silence… until I broke it.
"Aw fuck."
"That about sums it up."
"You know what? If he does good with the final cut, I'll give him a bonus. Kid deserves it."
"He's 4 years older than you."
"-And…?"
"... Nothing."
Aha! She can find logical fallacies in my statements all she wants, but she can NEVER… win an argument against me!
… I'm a good boss.
…
…
"So in short, our 3rd quarter has experienced slow returns as compared to the 2nd, but with the imminent release of our latest feature in October, we ought to pick up the slack by the end of 4th-"
Missy drones on, as I, Yash, Hugh, Trent, and Daisy listen to her brief report on our performance and frankly speaking… sounds good so far!
I mean, the final returns from Whiplash's box office alone netted us a fortune. So when you account for home video sales, syndication rights, both domestic and international, the overall net profit, factoring in productions costs, distribution costs, home video entertainment costs, interest, residuals and over the tops, and participation, we come to a hefty sum of $158.4 million, making it one of the most profitable independent ventures of all time… excluding taxes of course.
And with a collective gross of $276 million (Oscar buzz rocks!), it became the 3rd highest-grossing independent film of all time.
Good Will Hunting could've been 2nd, with its gross of $312, but nope. Why? Because fuck the Independent Spirit Awards, that's why. Since Stirling Studios is a conglomerate with multiple acquisitions under its umbrella, they had forked out a good chunk of the production costs, took care of marketing and distribution, and used in-house talent for the most part… By some 'stupid technicality', it was recognized as a studio production.
Never mind the fact that an individual (Me goddamnit!) has forked out over half of the costs, has done most of the work, and has taken a significant pay cut to deflate the budget, because 'that doesn't matter in the least' apparently!
Sigh.
Nope, I'm not doing this again, dammit. I raged hard enough last October; no need to get my temper up over the past now.
At least I can find solace in the fact that 'Midas' has been classified as an independent studio, and thus Whiplash, Atonement, and my next feature (which is a week away from finishing post-production) can, and thus will be nominated for the next awards, essentially sweeping them all if I have my way… I'll crush every single opposing nomination this time this- I swear on my pair of limited edition 'Air Jordans'.
"-which brings us back to you Ricky."
I snapped out of my inner thoughts, having heard what they were discussing in the background even as my focus was elsewhere.
"You decided yet?" Missy enquired with a raised eyebrow.
"Nope, not yet-"
"Then do it! We've got weeks before the final cut is ready, and the marketing campaign hasn't kicked off at all-"
"Give me some time, it's not an easy decision. And the next step will have a significant impact on how the release might go so just- back off a little will ya? Give me some breathing room here. Cannes or Berlin, both are great choices, but will take things in vastly different directions-"
"I want it by EOD." She cuts in.
"Done." I agree without any fanfare.
"Ok, I'm done. Anything to add, Hugh?" She said, yielding the floor to him, taking his seat as he got up in front of us.
"Ricky, I was contacted by Men's Vogue. They want to feature you next month, and they want the photoshoot to be done before the 25th. What do I tell them?"
A second later, I respond, "23rd works, call and tell them. Also, I want a full transcript of the article they will run by 28th latest- I'm almost sure it will have some correlation to any perceived changes in my lifestyle, in lieu of my new status as a sex symbol, and no doubt my dominance at the box office. We gotta make sure they get the facts straight, avert a fuck-up, like the GQ fiasco of April."
Ah, the GQ fiasco. Long story short, they misreported my philanthropic contributions.
I had donated $2.5 million to an NGO dealing with Cancer awareness, and those sons of bitches… forgot the decimal.
THEY FORGOT THE FUCKING DECIMAL! And people just ran with it, calling me all kinds of good things, praising me to high heavens for my historic donation, taking my age into account… and those assholes released a statement 3 days later… Do you have any idea how widespread a piece of news can get in 3 days?! Especially a well-liked celebrity, donating $25 million out of nowhere to a charitable cause? In 1998?
I had 2 choices. I could either back-track on it all, claim they misreported the numbers, which wouldn't harm my image in any significant manner, but it would put a damper on my momentum, with people asking all sorts of unfair questions like, 'you earned over a $100 million, so why wasn't the donation $25 million? Why only $2.5, which is practically a drop in the bucket for you?!'
… I did not want to take that risk… not this early in my career, when I have achieved a fame so ridiculously high, that a few investigative journalists are actively trying to find skeletons in my closet, because my fall would be that much more spectacular.
So after great reluctance, I cut the NGO a check for $22.5 million… but then Hugh (bless him) decided to pivot.
He released a press statement, setting the record straight, but added that the widespread response to the news had moved me so much that without a hint of hesitation I upped my donation to match the inflated figure.
… Best part of it all? They ate it up. The media, the people, the late night television hosts- they fucking ate it up… and then my fellow celebrities decided to try and piggyback on the positive reception, doubling down on their own philanthropic efforts, essentially creating a wave of donations to charities in the health sector.
A good thing right, you might say?! FUCK NO!
Let me tell you something, when things are too good to be true, it's because they usually are.
Most of these donations were towards cancer, and over 60% of them went towards lung cancer awareness. Specifically the act of smoking tobacco… and I became the poster child of the entire campaign… The rage I felt back then was so apoplectic, I swear I could have just reached out with a hand, lifted someone by their neck and strangled them, like a stereotypical villain.
Again, why was I angry you might ask?
… Because it was lung fucking cancer… And I was a casual smoker, even doing cigars once in a while, if only to experience that hit of nicotine.
Hugh went into crisis management mode, and once again, long story short… I was cut off. I could no longer smoke.
Every cigarette vendor in a half-mile radius around my house had been bribed by my own company to not sell me a single product, even if I went up to them and asked for a stick… not that it ever came to that, considering my self-control was sufficient in ending my little vice, but still… It was the gesture that mattered.
And so, I have been tar free for the past 4 months. Now, I'm man enough to admit the fact that, while the short term ramifications might have sucked… It was all for the better, considering my body had started healing itself almost immediately, and even naturally increasing my CON stat by 2, not to mention ending my dependency and cravings in any and all manner so… that was the good part.
Now the bad part… nearly every single tobacco company, and any and all celebrities who were endorsing any of them back them, and even now, essentially consider me to be persona non grata… And for good reason, I won't begrudge them that.
After the campaign started, and half of Hollywood rallied behind me, several tobacco companies' stocks took a dip near instantly, and it wasn't until an uptick of investment and innovative ad campaigns in August, did they finally stabilize somewhat., proving once and for all, that no matter how much awareness is spread, people will never stop smoking.
As of now, the movement has effectively stalled and been abandoned, with no active support whatsoever except maybe a remark on TV once in a while, because it had accomplished its objective wonderfully, drumming up fame, and improving the image of several degenerates in tinseltown, and partially because… I never took an active role in it, speaking about it in passing from time to time in public engagements, but otherwise, outright refusing to be vocal about it when I was asked, always deflecting one way or the other… Mainly because it no longer served any purpose to me.
It had all started due to a fucking misprint, and a series of misunderstandings that had effectively snowballed beyond mine, or anyone else's control, and I had absolutely no interest in hurting my brand image further by actively sidelining an entire industry.
I had milked every possible avenue of fame that I could have, and frankly, the well had run dry, with no possible upside to my reputation being certain after everything that had happened.
In short, I had nothing to gain anymore, and everything to lose, and so… I just let it all fade into the background. It had a minor impact on the lives of a few thousand, but beyond that… absolutely nothing.
Well, not nothing… It did serve as an immaculate excuse to finally quit smoking… I had been trying for a while back then, and putting it off again and again… Funny how life works out sometimes.