Terry Semel had been mulling it over for a while—he was ready to ditch Warner and jump to Yahoo!
The holdup? Some terms still needed hammering out.
He wouldn't officially bounce until next spring, giving him about six months left.
For now, Terry Semel was still Warner Bros.' top dog. Professional pride meant he had to finish strong—protecting Warner's interests while picking a solid successor.
Two contenders were in the ring: Vice Chairman Barry Meyer and President Alan Horn.
Alan Horn was the content guru. Over the past few years, he'd been the big shot running Warner Bros.' movie production, with killer business chops.
Barry Meyer, though, handled the admin side—expansion, channel-building, that sort of thing. Plus, he had a deeper Rolodex.
Terry leaned toward handing the reins to Barry. Warner Bros. wasn't just a movie mill—it had home entertainment, TV production, DC Comics, and a TV network. They needed someone well-rounded.
And honestly? Terry and Barry were tighter.
The catch: Barry had never run the movie-making side, Warner's bread and butter.
Then, a few days back, Barry met with Michael Ovitz and pitched a game-changer.
Slate financing for films!
If Ovitz's talk panned out and they locked in a long-term deal, it'd solve Warner's cash flow headaches big-time—giving their movie biz a rock-solid boost.
Pull that off, and Barry Meyer would be the obvious next-in-line!
Michael Eisner's pitch to carve up Dunn Films? Tempting, sure. But slate financing was the real prize!
Splitting Dunn Films might net them a few film rights, but for old-school giants like Warner, Fox, and Universal, creativity and IP were never the issue. Cash was what they craved!
Only Disney—a lightweight in live-action—would drool over Dunn Films' handful of titles.
Terry hadn't bitten on Eisner's offer, but he wasn't just stringing him along either. He'd pick whatever served Warner best. He called Barry in and cut to the chase. "How real is this thing?"
Barry read the gravity on his face and knew what he meant. He thought it over. "At least 80%."
"Oh?" That high? Terry's eyes lit up.
Barry nodded, dropping a loaded hint. "Terry, we've got to look at Dunn as an equal—maybe even give him a little extra credit."
Terry's gut stirred. He shot Barry a glance. "You're saying… Michael Ovitz is just the frontman, and Dunn Walker's the real brains?"
"I'd bet on it!" Barry's tone was dead serious. "This slate financing plan—it's mind-blowing. It's not Ovitz's style at all. Only Dunn, with his Wall Street ties and investment savvy, could dream this up."
Terry mulled it over, then nodded. "If it works, Hollywood owes Dunn big-time. But Disney…"
Barry waved it off. "Dunn saw Disney's counterpunch coming—that's why he rolled out slate financing!"
"If that's true, this kid's playing chess while we're still on checkers," Terry said, sucking in a breath. "But we can't just take their word for it. Ovitz is a negotiation shark—we've got to stay sharp. Maybe… hedge our bets."
Slate financing succeeding? Awesome—everyone wins. Even if some studios miss out on Ovitz's deal, they'd see the upside and jump on the bandwagon.
But if it's all smoke and mirrors? They wouldn't play nice.
Disney was already the bad guy—they could swoop in, hammer Dunn Films with zero guilt, and split the spoils.
Either way, the big players couldn't lose.
"Only one hitch: we've got to stall Disney!" Barry grinned, sly as an old fox. "Word is, Ovitz is in New York, and Dunn's filming out east—close to NYC. If they're serious about bringing slate financing to Hollywood, we've got to buy them time."
Terry jumped in. "Damn right. Not just stall Disney—we need to step in a bit, ease some pressure off Dunn Films. Compared to nibbling at Dunn Films' scraps, slate financing could be Hollywood's turning point!"
Barry nodded. "Disney's gonna pull every trick to rally everyone against Dunn Films right now. We're solid, but some companies—backed by media giants—might be too shortsighted, chasing quick wins…"
He didn't name names, but Terry knew he meant Paramount under Viacom!
Sure, Dunn Films and 20th Century Fox had beef in the past, but on a make-or-break moment like this, Fox was reliable.
Rupert Murdoch, the Aussie mogul, was shifting News Corp.'s assets from overseas to the U.S.—a long-game masterplan.
20th Century Fox caught that vibe too.
Companies take after their leaders, after all.
Viacom's Sumner Redstone, though? Brutal and nearsighted—classic family biz flaw. Turning down Dunn Films' kids' channel pitch was a dead giveaway.
Paramount, stuck under Viacom, lacked the vision and scope of a true Hollywood titan.
When Viacom snagged Paramount, it was the top dog in town. A decade later? That shine was long gone.
In another timeline, Paramount birthed slate financing, sure. But they tried to game it—smoothing out profits to screw over investors for petty gains.
That nearly sparked a war between Wall Street and Hollywood. Zero foresight. After that, no serious investors touched Paramount's slate deals, and their movie output—quality and quantity—tanked hard.
Viacom scrambled, buying DreamWorks to prop up Paramount and regroup.
Didn't last. A few years in, Viacom clashed with DreamWorks' shareholders over profits. DreamWorks bailed, cozying up to Disney instead.
Viacom's old-school playbook flopped again and again, shrinking a global media giant into a $10 billion shell. Laughable.
Redstone's buy-sell-split shuffle over the years pissed Terry off more than Eisner ever could. He said coldly, "No matter what, we've got to give Dunn two months! Nobody touches Dunn Films till then!"
Barry felt the same. "Dunn Films lives and breathes movies. Girl, Interrupted just hit screens—it's getting good buzz. Some critics are already calling it an Oscar contender for next year."
"Then let's give him a boost!" Terry paused, a spark hitting him. "Wait—hasn't Dunn been crowing about crushing Disney at the box office?"
Barry chuckled. "Yeah, Dunn… he's young. Can't keep a lid on it."
"Keep a lid on it? If he stayed quiet any longer, Dunn Films would've been toast!" Terry smirked. "Let's see how much noise he can make with an arthouse flick."