The Transformers Return

Twilight still had an audience weeks after its opening. Critics could call the romance overwrought; young moviegoers kept bringing friends back to see it. Henry Cavill's new Superman photographs had given the run another lift. Blake Lively had not generated the same frenzy Kristen Stewart had in the timeline Ethan remembered. The new Green Lantern also had no part for her. None of that had slowed Twilight.

In North America, Twilight had reached $206 million. Another $249 million overseas brought it to roughly $455 million worldwide. That made it the summer's second-biggest film, a long way behind Star Wars: Episode III - Revenge of the Sith, which was approaching $900 million. Second place was still a result MGM could build on.

Batman Begins had opened later on Warner's revised calendar. It had won its first weekend without becoming the breakout hit some executives had forecast. Its worldwide total stood near $235 million. The reviews told a different story: Christian Bale's Batman and Liam Neeson's Ra's al Ghul were winning over critics and audiences who had actually seen the film.

At the Warner offices, Judy Newhouse read those reports from Ethan's lap. She had an arm around his neck and kissed the edge of his ear while trying to turn a page.

"You're not making this easier," Ethan said.

"Look at my desk. If I stop now, the files will still be here when everyone else goes home."

She got up, carried the folder to the sofa, and sat down. "Actually, give me five minutes. My shoulders are killing me."

He stood behind her and worked his thumbs along the muscles at the base of her neck. Judy closed her eyes.

"There. Your hands are useful for something."

"More useful than Alexandra's?"

"She doesn't press hard enough." Judy caught his wrist and moved it a little higher. "I thought running this place would look more like it does when you run MGM. Instead I spend half the day reading what other people have already read."

"You're still treating every decision like it needs your hands on it. Set the direction. Make the people responsible for the details bring you the decisions that matter."

"Easy to say from behind the sofa."

"You'll get used to the chair."

She leaned back against him, then opened her eyes. "Speaking of decisions: Batman Begins. You promised Nolan a sequel and a larger budget, but this box office isn't what you predicted. At this pace, I don't think it reaches $400 million worldwide."

"It doesn't have to reach four hundred to make money. And the audience response is worth something. I told Nolan he'd get to finish the story."

"I'm not canceling it. I'm asking whether the increase has to be fifty million dollars. Ten million more would give him room. We have other scripts worth making."

Judy crossed to a cabinet and returned with a stack of folders. The first title stopped Ethan before she could explain it.

The Departed.

Warner had acquired the remake rights to the Hong Kong film Infernal Affairs. Ethan remembered what a strong director and cast had made of that material in the other timeline, and how much it had meant to Martin Scorsese's career.

"This one," he said. "Don't leave it in a cabinet."

"You haven't opened the script."

"I've seen the original. Give the remake a director who understands the two men at its center, and it could be one of our best pictures."

The next folder was Blood Diamond. Ethan turned several pages. The story had force, and he remembered the performances it could draw from its cast. He also remembered the cost and the narrower audience.

"It's good," he said. "It's also brutal. Don't finance it on the assumption that prestige will fill every seat."

"So we pass?"

"If you believe in it, make it. Just budget for the film it is."

Judy considered the folder. "Or I could take it to Sony. Let them carry the larger risk and keep us in for a smaller share."

"What makes you think they'll take it?"

"I'll tell them Ethan Hawthorne liked it, but his two studios are already overcommitted."

He gave her a playful swat on the backside. "You're selling my opinion now?"

"You keep telling me to delegate. I'm using an asset."

She handed him a third script. "The development team wants to approach M. Night Shyamalan for this one."

Ethan looked at the title: Lady in the Water.

"I wouldn't," he said.

"The Sixth Sense and Signs made money. He's one of the names people still ask for. Disney was developing this with him until they fell out, and I wouldn't mind taking a project they let go."

"Those films earned him his reputation. This script has to earn its own budget. He knows how to set up a mystery. I'm not convinced he knows how to pay this one off."

He could not explain the whole of his certainty. In the future he remembered, Lady in the Water had been the beginning of a long decline; The Last Airbender and After Earth had made that decline impossible to dismiss. Judy could assess the pages in front of her, not movies that did not yet exist.

"Maybe Disney walked away for a reason," he said. "Let the team read it again without his past box office in the room. If they still want it, bring me the case."

Judy studied him. "All right. But if it becomes a hit without us, you owe me a serious apology."

"And if it doesn't?"

"Then you can enjoy being right in private."

"That sounds suspiciously like no penalty for you."

"You can negotiate one later." She pulled him closer and kissed him. He let her win that round of the argument.

When they separated, Judy asked about Alexandra and Avril. Ethan said Alexandra still did not know about them; he would talk to her when she was ready. Avril was proving harder to win over, but he would ask her out again that weekend. Judy kissed him, and they returned to the scripts.

By early August, the summer slate had thinned. Few distributors wanted to put a new tentpole directly in front of Transformers 2. War of the Worlds had already opened, and Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire was not due until November. MGM's sequel was the next summer release the trades watched for a challenge to Star Wars: Episode III - Revenge of the Sith.

The premiere filled the ArcLight. MGM's invitations drew actors, executives, and friends of the studio who understood that appearing on this carpet was a kind of business. Cameras flashed as Ethan stood between Chris Evans and Ryan Reynolds. Gal Gadot, the film's Mikaela, walked in with Charlize Theron, who voiced the Autobot Arcee.

Sergey Hassenfeld had flown in too. Kate Winslet was beside him.

"You two came a long way for a movie," Ethan said.

"The movie is worth the trip," Sergey replied. "I also wanted to invite you in person. Kate and I are getting married next month."

Charlize turned so sharply she nearly missed Kate's hug. "Next month? When did you get engaged?"

"Almost six months ago," Kate said. "We kept it to our families. And you introduced us, so you don't get to miss the wedding."

"I wouldn't. You could have told me sooner."

Kate smiled toward Ethan. "What about you two? Nothing in the papers, nothing from your friends. Are you ever going to tell the world what you're doing?"

"We like our privacy," Charlize said.

"Privacy has its uses. Just don't let him make it an excuse forever."

Charlize gave a small, noncommittal sound. Her gaze dropped to her stomach before she looked back toward the theater doors. She said nothing more.