On May 14, 1988, the private screening room at the Walt Disney Studios in Burbank was thick with a combination of expectation and anticipation that only preceded a major summer rollout.. Michael Eisner, the man credited with Disney's 1980s resurrection, sat in the center of the front row. To his left was Jeffrey Katzenberg, and to his right, Alex Hayes.
Katzenberg, the head of Disney's motion picture division, was known for his legendary work ethic and a micro-management style that kept the entire studio on its toes.
The lights dimmed, and for the next hour and forty-four minutes, the room was filled with the whimsical brilliance of The Princess Bride. As the final frame played out—the grandfather smiling at his grandson, saying "As You Wish," and gently closing the door—the screen went to black.
There was no raucous applause; this wasn't a test audience. It was a room of executives and directors. Instead, there was a collective exhaling of breath and a series of appreciative nods.
"It's a very good film, Rob," Eisner said, turning to director Rob Reiner. "Truly impressive."
"Thank you, Michael. That means a lot," Reiner replied, his tone genuinely thankful.
"It's tight," Katzenberg added, leaning forward with his usual intensity. "The pacing is solid, and the chemistry between Alex and Robin is undeniable."
"Perhaps a Christmas release would have been more strategic," one executive mused, tapping his chin. "The 'bedtime story' aesthetic feels more like a holiday release."
Alex leaned back, his voice cutting through the executive chatter. "Maybe. But summer is a blockbuster season. If we want this to be more than just a 'beloved' film—if we want it to be a hit—it needs to play when the kids are out of school and the adults are looking for an escape."
Eisner nodded, his eyes fixed on the screen. "Alex is right. How many screens are we looking at for the June 10th wide release?"
"2,088 theaters," an executive from the distribution department answered promptly. "The booking is solid. We've secured the prime screens in all the major markets."
"Good," Eisner said. "I want this to go off without a single hitch. What's the status of the cross-promotion?"
"We've already started the push at Disneyland," Katzenberg chimed in. "The signage is up, and the 'Dread Pirate Roberts' and 'Princess Buttercup' walk-around characters are drawing crowds. We're looking at an average of 70,000 visitors a day right now. That's a massive amount of direct-to-consumer advertisement that our competitors can't touch."
"Good," Eisner said, leaning back as he scanned the room. He spent the next twenty minutes drilling the heads of the marketing and logistics departments, demanding precise updates on everything from the saturation of TV spots on ABC to the shipping schedules of the film canisters to the Midwest. Once he was satisfied that every gear in the Disney machine was turning in sync, he ended the meeting.
"Alright, gentlemen," Eisner concluded, his voice resonating with a mix of authority and anticipation. "We have the best star in the world and a film that finally captures the magic of 'Disney' —now let's go out there and make sure every family in America knows that June 10th is a date they can't afford to miss."
As the meeting adjourned, the executives filed out. Jeffrey Katzenberg stood to leave, checking his watch as he already began whispering into the ear of a marketing assistant about the next day's press junket. He gave a quick, sharp nod to Alex before the heavy oak doors clicked shut. Alex stood to follow, but Eisner held up a hand.
"Alex, stay for a moment," Eisner said.
Alex settled back into the plush theater seat. As the room fell quiet, Eisner let out a long, heavy sigh that seemed to deflate his entire posture. He looked older than he had five minutes ago.
"Trouble, Michael?" Alex asked.
Eisner rubbed his temples. "It's been a rough start to the year, Alex. We're five months into 1988, and we haven't had a single hit yet. Nothing. We're coasting on the momentum of 1987, but that tank is running dry."
He began to count off on his fingers. "Last year was a dream. We had Good Morning, Vietnam, Three Men and a Baby, and Stakeout. We were untouchable. But so far this year? Shoot to Kill did okay, but it wasn't a monster. Return to Snowy River was soft. Big Business is tracking, but it's a coin toss. Disney needs a big hit, Alex. We need a definitive win to keep the shareholders from twitching."
"Don't worry, Michael. The Princess Bride will be that win," Alex replied confidently.
In the back of his mind, Alex recalled fragments of visions where The Princess Bride was a modest box office performer that only became a phenomenon on home video. But this wasn't that timeline. In this world, the film had Alex Hayes in the lead. It had the full weight of his sixteen-hit streak and the absolute marketing muscle of Disney.
"I trust you," Eisner said, and it wasn't just corporate flattery. "If I can't trust the man with sixteen consecutive hits, there isn't an actor in this town worth a damn."
Eisner paused, his tone shifting. "Which brings me to what I've been hearing in the trades. Rumor has it you're producing a project of your own. And that you and Michael Ovitz nearly came to blows over it."
Michael Eisner and Michael Ovitz were close personal friends. They vacationed together with their families, shared private dinners, and spoke almost daily. In the brutal world of Hollywood, they were seen as a rare, unified front. However, it was a friendship built on a delicate balance of power. Both men were notoriously controlling, and beneath the camaraderie was a fierce, silent competition over who truly sat atop the Hollywood hierarchy.
"We just had different views on my career trajectory," Alex dismissed it with a wave of his hand.
Eisner chuckled. "Ovitz has spent years treating you like the crown jewel. For him to snap, it must be something significant. What's the project?"
"It's about an impotent voyeur who videotapes women's confessions," Alex said flatly.
Eisner went dead silent. His face froze, his mouth slightly agape as he stared at Alex. The silence stretched until Alex couldn't help himself—he threw his head back and laughed loudly at the sheer shock on the Disney Chairman's face.
"What are you thinking? Are you going to skip asking for the distribution rights after hearing that?" Alex teased.
Eisner finally recovered, though the surprise lingered in his eyes. "Why would I be afraid? The rumors say the film has a very small budget. I think it will be a success regardless of whether it's good or bad, simply because your name is on it. But why do you even want to act in a movie like that?" Eisner questioned, leaning forward. "You're twenty-four years old. You're on the greatest streak in history. You could have waited ten years to do an 'art' film. Why risk it now?"
"There is no risk, Michael. It's a good film, and the subject matter isn't as taboo as it sounds when you actually read the script. Ovitz's concern is strictly about my 'Golden Boy' image."
Eisner didn't say anything further. He simply nodded, though his eyes remained skeptical. Alex could feel the doubt radiating from him—the same doubt he'd seen in Ovitz and Paula. They all saw a star they wanted to protect.
He knew only time—and the cold, hard numbers of success—would prove him right.
*******************
As the release of The Princess Bride drew closer, Alex Hayes was fully occupied with a grueling promotional schedule. Despite the demands on his time, he ensured the momentum for his next project didn't stall by asking Aunt Nancy and Paula Wagner to assist Steven Soderbergh with the intricate pre-production details.
Steven Soderbergh had been exceptionally clear regarding his vision and requirements for Sex, Lies, and Videotape. With the support of Alex's team, the production timeline was finalized. The start date was set for the second week of June, immediately following the wide release of The Princess Bride. The plan was lean and efficient: a shooting schedule that would last at most four weeks.
Then, the day finally arrived. On June 9, 1988, the lights went up for the world premiere night of The Princess Bride.