With Joe Roth out of the picture, Disney's production department was now Richard Cook's kingdom.
Fresh in the driver's seat, this summer's two big-budget bets—Pearl Harbor and Atlantis: The Lost Empire—were the ultimate test of his chops.
Now, Pearl Harbor had hit screens, and the results… weren't bad.
Opening weekend raked in $53.63 million. Sure, it was just three days, but it still muscled past Shrek to claim the top spot on the weekly box office chart!
As for The Unsinkable, the other big commercial flick in the ring? It trailed Pearl Harbor by over $10 million—a first-round knockout, barely worth a mention.
Still, $53.63 million didn't quite hit Disney's sweet spot.
They'd aimed to mold Pearl Harbor into a Titanic-level box office juggernaut. Forget overseas for now—North America alone was supposed to clear $600 million!
That meant an opening weekend between $120-150 million, a second week topping $100 million, and a third week pulling in at least $80 million.
Three weeks, $300 million in North America—that's what would've satisfied Disney's appetite.
Right now? That dream was pretty much toast.
Especially with Pearl Harbor's audience buzz trending sour—staging a ticket sales comeback in the weeks ahead looked dicey at best.
So, Disney's production team had already slashed their North American forecast for Pearl Harbor down to $300 million.
Naturally, the marketing game plan needed a tweak too.
North American moviegoers… didn't seem to vibe with pitting Pearl Harbor against Titanic.
No biggie!
Business folks care about profits, not prestige. As long as the cash rolled in, who cared about word of mouth?
Richard Cook had climbed from Disney's theater division chair to production head because of his knack for revenue and margins.
Movies weren't his passion—money was!
Today, he called Pearl Harbor's producer Jerry Bruckheimer and director Michael Bay into his office to hash out a new promo strategy.
Cocky as ever, Michael Bay oozed confidence in his flick. "Pearl Harbor and Titanic are totally different beasts—one's a war movie, the other's a disaster flick. We should play up the film's quality and effects, not the story or performances."
Jerry Bruckheimer, a Hollywood golden boy for over a decade, had way more clout and experience. "No way! We've got to switch up the marketing. We can't keep leaning on Titanic—it's pissing off the fans. We need a new angle."
In front of Bruckheimer, Bay was just a lackey, nodding along like a good soldier.
Even Richard Cook had to show Bruckheimer some respect—he was Disney's ace in the hole for blockbuster hits. "I'm with you on that," Cook chimed in. "Let's drop Titanic talk altogether. How about we pivot to themes like reflection and anti-war vibes?"
Bruckheimer nodded. "Sure! The Unsinkable trotted out those old-timers from the real event for some serious emotional pull. We could do that too."
Cook frowned. "That… might not fly. It doesn't fit Disney's values. We're pushing youthful, mass-market stuff. Parading out aging soldiers? Mr. Eisner wouldn't sign off on that."
Bruckheimer pressed, his voice low. "They can do it, but we can't?"
"It's different," Cook said. "Using old soldiers' pain as a gimmick could dent Disney's brand image."
"Then let's go with gossip! Have the leads fake a romance… nah, skip that—stage an engagement! Disney can set up the hype and a live broadcast."
Bruckheimer's old-school tricks were dated but effective.
Clearly, Cook was all in for this shady play. "Works for me. I'll get their agencies on board and kick things off. No rush on the engagement—let's have them 'date' for a couple weeks. Once the box office starts fading, they get engaged to juice up sales."
Just then, a knock on the door. Cook's assistant stepped in, holding a few newspapers.
Cook's brow furrowed. "What's up?"
"Dunn Films and Universal… they've flipped the script on The Unsinkable's marketing," the assistant said, dropping the papers on the desk.
Cook, Bruckheimer, and Bay tensed up, jumping to their feet and grabbing the headlines.
Cook snatched Variety and a film review mag, pages already folded to the Unsinkable articles. One glance, and he sucked in a sharp breath.
"Dunn Walker: Pearl Harbor Is Clueless—The Unsinkable Is the Real Second Titanic!"
"Eureka! It's the True Titanic All Along!"
The headlines alone turned Cook's face ghost-white.
Over on Bruckheimer's side, his expression was just as grim.
He held the Los Angeles Times and LA Weekly, with entertainment front pages screaming about Cameron's The Unsinkable.
"Reputation Rankings? No Surprise—Dunn Walker Breaks It Down!"
"Stop Falling for It! The Real Titanic? It's The Unsinkable!"
Bay clutched two tabloids, and their takes were pure chaos fuel.
"Shock! Exposé! Disney Tricks Fans Into Buying Tickets—Pearl Harbor Has Zero to Do with Titanic!"
"Exclusive: Director Dunn Walker Slams Disney for Duping Audiences!"
…
Everyone in the room was a sharp industry vet.
Even stripping away the inflammatory slander, Dunn Films' marketing pivot was enough to make them all break out in a cold sweat.
This was a disaster!
"Second Titanic"—that was the killer blow!
How'd Pearl Harbor beat out Shrek and The Unsinkable opening weekend?
Simple: its whole campaign rode Titanic's coattails, banking on that classic's hype to spark fan excitement.
And it worked.
During promo season, Dunn and Cameron's The Unsinkable got steamrolled by Pearl Harbor—no buzz, no momentum.
Post-release, the $200 million Unsinkable scraped together just over $40 million opening weekend. Jaws dropped.
No doubt about it—Disney had crushed it out of the gate!
Pearl Harbor vs. The Unsinkable: Round one to Disney!
But then the cracks showed.
Pearl Harbor's plot and content rubbed audiences the wrong way. Industry buzz was brutal—it didn't hold a candle to Titanic.
Forcing the comparison now? That'd just be a punchline.
Disney had to switch up its strategy.
But they didn't see it coming…
Dunn struck first!
And he didn't just strike—he cut Pearl Harbor off at the knees!
Universal and Dunn went all-in, loudly proclaiming that the rave-reviewed Unsinkable was the true second Titanic!
Same creative team, plus thematic overlap—both films used shipwrecks to celebrate life's beautiful emotions.
Even better? Titanic ended in tragedy; Unsinkable delivered a feel-good finale!
Pearl Harbor couldn't ride Titanic's wave anymore, but at this critical moment, The Unsinkable slapped a Titanic badge on itself.
What did that mean?
Pearl Harbor's month-long, hurricane-force "Second Titanic" hype train was about to crash, leaving nothing but backlash in its wake.
Meanwhile, Dunn—who'd been lying low—snatched that promo mantle, hoisting The Unsinkable up as the real deal, piggybacking on Pearl Harbor's month of blanket buzz!
"You've all been fooled! Pearl Harbor's got nothing to do with Titanic—The Unsinkable is the real second chapter!"
That pitch was a death knell for Disney!
Richard Cook was on the verge of tears.
For the past month, he'd poured his heart into Pearl Harbor, tapping every Disney resource and channel, hammering home the "Second Titanic" hook.
But in just one month, the tables turned hard!
All that effort didn't just tank Pearl Harbor's rep—it handed Dunn Films' The Unsinkable a golden gift!
Losing the wife and the army!
Jerry Bruckheimer, burned by Dunn once again—and this time it was a brutal hit—slammed the newspaper on the desk, seething through gritted teeth. "That Dunn Walker—shameless! Bastard!"
Michael Bay didn't have a personal beef with Dunn, but as Bruckheimer's right-hand man, he had to follow suit. His face darkened. "That punk… sneaky, slimy, downright dirty! No wonder he played nice during promo season—he had this up his sleeve the whole time. Damn it!"
Richard Cook just flopped into his chair like a deflated balloon, muttering, "What… what do we do now…"
He knew Michael Eisner's temper all too well.
Botching a juggernaut like Pearl Harbor?
He might end up as the fall guy for Disney's production department—just like Joe Roth before him.
He was screwed!