346 - Hollywood: The Studio Gambit (Patreon)

346 - Superman and the Joker

MGM's purchase of the Warner studio was complete. The $51 billion figure led every entertainment page, followed by questions no headline could answer: which films would survive the change, who would run the company, and whether Ethan Hawthorne had bought more of Hollywood than anyone should own.

Lucasfilm had cost him a little over $3 billion personally. Warner was an MGM transaction on another scale. The studio, its distribution business, and the operating assets included in the agreement now sat inside his growing group. Time Warner retained the DC publishing business and the rights to create new characters; MGM had secured screen and related media rights to the existing roster covered by the deal. That distinction kept appearing in the filings. It appeared less often in the stories declaring that Ethan "owned DC."

The release calendar was the first practical question. Warner had held Batman Begins and Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire while the sale was under review. Fans wanted dates, not another chart of corporate ownership. DC readers wanted to know whether the new owner intended to build beyond Batman and Superman. They traded wish lists that ran from Wonder Woman and Green Lantern to the Flash, Constantine, Nightwing, and Aquaman.

Ethan planned to answer at a press conference. First, he held the celebration he had postponed when he bought Lucasfilm.

His Beverly Hills house filled with studio executives, directors, actors, musicians, and friends. Carol had to bring in extra staff; by sunset, the lawn was louder than any premiere party Ethan had hosted. He escaped a conversation with Barry Meyer and Steven Spielberg only to be handed another glass and a question about the future of New Line.

Henry Cavill arrived in a dark suit, clean-shaven, his hair carefully combed. He stopped just past the door when he saw guests in open collars and summer clothes.

"I thought this was formal," he told Lisa as she took his coat.

"You look ready to announce a merger of your own," she said.

"Is it that bad?"

"Not for someone who just opened a number-one film." She grinned. "I saw Twilight."

Henry loosened his tie. Lisa offered to keep it with the coat, and he gave it up with relief. He knew the producer of Twilight was somewhere inside, but he could not see Mark Morgan through the crowd.

Paris Hilton saw Henry before he saw Mark. "There's our new vampire," she told Nicky. "He looks as though he's lost his chaperone."

"You said you came to speak to Ethan," Nicky replied.

Paris glanced at their host, who was surrounded by men discussing production schedules. "I've had all the production talk I can stand."

She took two drinks over to Henry and introduced herself. He knew her from the papers; she knew he had just acquired a large, enthusiastic audience. When she offered to bring him to her friends, he looked for a polite way to decline.

"Henry!" Mark called from across the room. "Come over here."

"That's my producer," Henry said, plainly grateful for the summons. "Excuse me."

Paris let him go. "The next time somebody calls him across a room, I'm charging MGM for interference."

Nicky laughed. Chris Evans walked by on his way to the bar, and Paris found that the party still had possibilities.

At the table, Mark congratulated Henry on Twilight before Ethan spoke. Henry had been told he was wanted by the studio, but not why.

"You held the film together," Ethan said. "The audience has made that clear. We want you back for the sequels."

"I'd love to do them."

"There's another part I want to discuss. Have you followed Superman?"

Henry looked at him. "The comics, the older films, Smallville. Yes."

"We're developing a new Superman film as part of the DC slate. I want you in the role."

For a moment Henry could not answer. He had come to the party worried that Twilight might make casting directors see nothing but a vampire. Ethan had just offered him the most recognizable hero in comics.

"I didn't know you were looking," he said.

"We are now. You'll still have to work for it. Superman needs a different build from Edward, and the Twilight sequels won't wait while you train. The schedules and your conditioning have to be planned together, with people who know what they're doing."

"I can do that."

"Talk to Chris." Ethan spotted Evans leaving Paris's circle and waved him over. "He's had to change his training around Captain America and Transformers. He can tell you what the calendar feels like once the costumes are fitted."

Chris shook Henry's hand. "First lesson: ask for the dates in writing. Second lesson: don't let someone who has never worn the suit tell you how easy it is to move in it."

Henry laughed, finally relaxing. The two went off to find food and joined Ryan Reynolds, Hugh Jackman, and Robert Downey Jr. near the grill. Ethan watched them for a moment. His two superhero lines were beginning to look less like a presentation deck and more like a room full of people who would have to live with his decisions.

Christopher Nolan was turning meat over the coals. Ethan picked up a plate.

"Since when do you cook for an entire party?"

"Since your staff decided I was trustworthy with a brush and a pair of tongs."

"You've fooled them."

"Don't tell anyone until they've eaten."

Judy Newhouse arrived with Avril Lavigne and Alexandra Daddario. Nolan gave them the first servings; Ethan took the next. Avril thanked the director and gave Ethan a look that made clear a plate of food did not settle two weeks of neglected plans. Alexandra was quieter, no less pointed.

"I've been working," Ethan said.

"We had heard," Avril replied.

Judy touched Avril's shoulder. "Come with me. There are people I'd like you both to meet."

She guided them back toward the house. Nolan watched her go, then regarded Ethan with the mild expression of a man who had noticed more than he intended to discuss.

"About your film," Ethan said. "We're putting Batman Begins back on the schedule. About two weeks, if distribution can finish the changeover."

"Good. The cast has been waiting."

"I want you to stay for the sequel. I said you'd keep creative control, and I mean it. The first film came in around $115 million. I'm prepared to set the next at about $165 million, subject to the usual production review."

Nolan turned away from the grill. "You haven't seen how the first one opens."

"I have seen the film. A first-weekend number won't decide whether you get to finish the story you started."

Nolan had planted a card at the end of Batman Begins. It gave his next antagonist a name without casting him. Under Warner's previous management, he had worried that every success would invite another person into the editing room. Now the new owner was offering him both money and room to work.

"Christian stays?" he asked.

"If you and he want the sequel, yes. There's one actor I'd like you to consider for the Joker. Your choice in the end."

"Who?"

"Heath Ledger."

Nolan considered the name. Then he asked for another piece of meat and said, "Send me his work. I'll decide what to do with it."