[Chapter 382: Waterworld's Flop]
On the afternoon of June 9 at 5:00, Universal Pictures held a lavish premiere for Waterworld at the Los Angeles Dome Theater.
At Lou Wasserman's cordial invitation, Linton Anderson attended the premiere with Cristiana Reali. He brought Cristiana partly for Independence Day promotion -- the closer Independence Day's release got, the more material the press and paparazzi wanted to work with.
That decision had drawn some quiet complaints from fellow cast sisters Catherine and Michelle Reis, but once Linton made his strong case, neither of them had the energy to push back.
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Overall, Waterworld felt like a maritime version of the post-apocalyptic calling card that Mad Max had been. During the Cold War, Western cinema had been obsessed with nuclear apocalypse scenarios, which spawned many films imagining how humanity would survive in radically altered environments. The Mad Max series had catapulted Mel Gibson from Australia to Hollywood fame and demonstrated how popular that premise was in the West.
Now there was no Soviet threat, but Universal had moved with the times and picked a new hot theme: global warming. The premise was polar ice melting and the world turning into oceans, then showing how people and ecosystems would adapt.
The director and male lead was Kevin Costner, an Oscar winner for Best Actor and Best Director. He played a mutant who had developed gills behind his ears to survive the new world, a lone figure written like a sci-fi Western cowboy.
After watching for a dozen minutes, Linton mostly saw endless ocean, shabby boats afloat on grimy seas, and squalid floating settlements.
"This was supposed to be a $175 million mega-production, right? Why does it feel like it can't hold a candle to Independence Day?" Cristiana whispered beside him.
Indeed, $175 million had been spent -- or at least that was the number being touted -- yet the screen showed such meager visuals. Where had the money gone?
"Keep watching. The good stuff might be later." Linton sounded skeptical. If a film didn't find its rhythm in the first ten minutes, would audiences stay interested?
"The leading lady is ugly," Cristiana murmured close to his ear.
The female lead, Jeanne Tripplehorn, was actually attractive and shapely -- certainly no match for Cristiana, but "ugly" wasn't accurate. For the film's survivalist logic, the director had deliberately made her sun-browned and rough at sea, drastically lowering her glamorous appeal to sell the wasteland reality. The sacrifice had cost her on-screen looks.
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Because it was a premiere, they sat through the whole thing quietly, trading occasional low-voiced quips. Overall, the two-hour-plus story stayed reasonably tight and managed to keep viewers watching. It was a typical wasteland Western hero movie, a mid-range Hollywood spectacle and nothing more.
The problem was that this was supposedly a $175 million blockbuster. Mediocre-but-competent was exactly the problem. The film failed to pull audiences in emotionally through plot or character, and the visual effects sometimes looked coarse or unconvincing, so it didn't deliver thrills. Taken together, it came off as a bland big-budget film.
With his professional eye, Linton thought that if his company had produced it, $40 million would have handled it. Even factoring in Kevin Costner's dual mega-paychecks, it shouldn't have exceeded $55 million. If production had truly been hit by typhoons as Universal claimed, $70 million would still have been more than enough.
It looked like Universal Pictures' executives had been creative in how they burned money. Were they counting on no one daring to challenge them? If they kept going like this, Panasonic and others might not be able to carry the burden forever.
"Do you think this movie will succeed?" Cristiana asked, staring at the end credits.
Succeed? Linton didn't think so. Dreamland was where anything came true. With a $175 million production budget and another $60 million in marketing, total costs had ballooned to a staggering $235 million. Box office would need at least $500 million, plus merchandise and rights exploitation, just to break even. Linton didn't see this as a $500 million earner.
"I am not hopeful. There is a good chance it would lose money. But since tonight was the premiere, whatever anyone asked, you had to find some way to praise it," he answered, practical and blunt. He reminded Cristiana to be careful what she said.
"I know. But I honestly can't find anything to praise," Cristiana fretted.
"Okay, if you're stuck, compliment the score. And praise the lead for her professionalism -- how she sacrificed her looks for the role," Linton suggested when he saw her at a loss.
"Thanks, darling," Cristiana said and impulsively kissed Linton. Unbeknownst to them, paparazzi who were always watching captured the moment. Tomorrow's tabloid fodder would have new material.
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On June 11, Waterworld was officially released.
As a $175 million tentpole with Universal's massive advertising and blandly flattering reviews from some critics, audiences turned out. Opening day grossed $9.37 million.
For most Hollywood films that would have been a solid start, but for a $175 million Waterworld it sent chills through Universal's management.
Third-party surveys rated audience reaction at only a B-. Their forecast model put the North American gross at roughly $100 million. The real numbers were worse.
Saturday took in $8.61 million.
Sunday pulled $6.54 million.
The opening weekend totaled only $24.52 million -- less than Crimson Tide, which had been in theaters a week already.
Within three days, receipts had started to collapse and word of mouth fell apart.
Monday fell to $4.08 million.
Tuesday was $4.13 million.
Wednesday, $3.95 million.
"This film was finished," Linton and Cristiana agreed in the car on the way to record a segment for Independence Day on the UPN network that night.
"Does this mean Universal would pour more resources into Independence Day?" Cristiana's market instincts had sharpened after more than two years in Hollywood.
"You're right. With Waterworld failing and executives scrambling to pass blame, they'd be more focused on Independence Day's performance. This is good news for us."
Waterworld's flop brought another consequence: Hollywood collectively soured on ocean-themed epics. Some insiders predicted a Titanic-level disaster for anyone else attempting a similar project, and Universal, bruised by Waterworld's blow, officially declined to invest in Titanic.
*****
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