After the first week, because New Year's Day, January 1, 1990, fell on a Monday just like Christmas and was a U.S. federal holiday, the second weekend of Batman's run was also a four-day stretch.
Among this week's new releases was The Rocketeer, starring Tom Cruise and Meg Ryan. It had a production budget of forty-five million dollars. Paramount had used some less-than-honorable means to snatch the project from Daenerys, and they were brimming with confidence, so they poured another twenty million into marketing.
Even so, with the obvious PR grease in play, The Rocketeer media scores only barely scraped a passing mark. Many major print outlets like The New York Times, Entertainment Weekly, and The Washington Post didn't hold back at all, handing out scathing reviews.
According to what Simon had heard, to clear a slot for The Rocketeer, Paramount even pushed back Born on the Fourth of July, also starring Tom Cruise and directed by Oliver Stone, to next year's Easter release window.
But all the supposed advantages, a total investment of sixty-five million, the hottest Christmas corridor, Tom Cruise and Meg Ryan as leads, still couldn't win the market over. Audiences simply didn't like this awkward, neither-fish-nor-fowl brand of retro sci-fi.
With Batman crashing through theaters like a battering ram, The Rocketeer limped to just $11.98 million in its first seven days from December 29 to January 4. It ranked second on the weekly box office chart, but it was nowhere close, utterly left in the dust by Batman.
Another new release was Steven Spielberg's Forever, the story of a pilot who returns to his girlfriend as a ghost after a plane crash, beginning a different kind of life by her side.
Yes, the premise sounded very similar to Ghost. Of course, the plot itself was a completely different beast.
In its opening week, this fantasy comedy, buoyed by similarly lukewarm word of mouth, managed only $7.18 million, landing fourth on the weekly chart.
Third place was still held by the Easter holdover Flight of Innocence. It dipped another eleven percent this week, bringing in $9.68 million for a cumulative total of $135.77 million.
As for the number one spot, Batman, thanks to its record-smashing $82.39 million first week and a far broader audience base than Simon's previous two films, not only didn't drop in its second week, it actually surged eight percent against the trend, pulling in another $88.79 million.
In just two weeks, Batman had amassed an unprecedented $171.18 million at breakneck speed.
A two-week performance like that meant Batman would cruise past the $400 million domestic milestone with ease.
Since once-in-a-generation films like Star Wars and E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial still hadn't gone through repeated re-releases, Batman was projected to become the first film in North American history to break $400 million at the domestic box office.
Amid the media's astonishment and the fans' roar, Hollywood's major studios reacted instantly, swinging their attention toward superhero comics that might be adapted for film.
Then most of them finally realized there was no room left for them to wedge in.
Even more discouraging was the fact that the two biggest comic publishers in the U.S., Marvel and DC, were both, for all practical purposes, under Daenerys Entertainment's control.
Marvel had long since become a wholly owned subsidiary of Daenerys Entertainment. And DC's most essential trio, Superman, Batman, and Wonder Woman, had been bought outright by Simon Westeros, which was the equivalent of putting a hand around DC's throat.
Forget Marvel, that undeveloped gold mine. Judging by Batman's box office alone, just the DC film universe plan Daenerys and Warner Bros. had recently announced would probably be enough to feed Daenerys Entertainment for the next ten years.
After all, it wasn't just ticket sales and the expected revenue from tapes and TV broadcast rights. Batman's merchandising numbers were staggering, too. After $130 million in derivative product sales the first week, the second week moved another $150 million.
Industry tracking firms predicted, based on the sales data from the past two weeks, that Batman's various licensed products could hit $2 billion in sales over the next year.
Thanks to the enormous brand premium, retail prices for movie tie-in products typically ran about ten times their production cost, meaning the gross margins were extremely high.
Even after manufacturers, distributors, and retailers all took their cuts, depending on the type of product, the rights holder's share usually still reached ten to twenty percent of total sales.
At an estimated $2 billion in tie-in sales over the next year, even using a conservative mid-range royalty rate would bring Daenerys Entertainment and Time Warner roughly $300 million in revenue. And because this income didn't require much up-front investment, it was essentially pre-tax net profit.
Because of the massive earnings expected from every angle, Time Warner's management, after a brief burst of excitement following the box office explosion, very quickly started to regret things.
Even knowing full well that it was Simon Westeros's direct control that created the miracle of Batman, Warner had still had every chance, back then, to participate in financing this film.
Now, per the original contract, Warner Bros. could only take a fifteen percent commission from the film's distribution across all channels. As for the enormous merchandising revenue, even after the Time Warner merger was completed, the company could only receive a ten percent profit share under the name of its subsidiary, DC Comics.
Sure, those two revenue streams alone might bring Time Warner no less than $200 million over the next few years. But as for how much Daenerys Entertainment would make from this project, people up and down Time Warner barely dared to do the math.
The more you calculated, the worse it felt.
And if this were any other second- or third-tier Hollywood outfit, with all-channel distribution rights in hand, Warner Bros. could have used the usual Hollywood accounting tricks to squeeze the partner's rightful profit as much as possible. Push it further, and they might even have torn up the contract outright, reclaiming the Batman rights.
But with Daenerys Entertainment, Warner couldn't do that.
From the moment distribution work for Batman began, Daenerys Entertainment had stationed a dedicated accounting team to track the entire project, making it very difficult for Warner to pull financial sleight of hand.
Of course, maybe it wasn't impossible. But Warner didn't dare.
Daenerys Entertainment's handling of the original soundtrack profit dispute over The Bodyguard had left an unforgettable impression across Hollywood.
Arista Records had tried to swallow the album-sales share Daenerys Entertainment was owed. Simon Westeros, without the slightest hesitation, even knowing the massive losses that a shortage of a phenomenon-level album could cause, had simply halted sales of the record.
In the end, Arista not only failed, it paid a penalty equal to twice the amount it had tried to pocket, and Arista's president even lost his job over it.
If Warner Bros. pulled the same stunt, Terry Semel believed Simon Westeros would just as readily shut down all subsequent development of the entire DC film universe until Warner spat back every last thing it had swallowed.
And maybe someone would have to take the blame in the end, someone like him, the CEO of Warner Bros., who would make a perfectly convenient scapegoat.
Since the reality was already set in stone, Time Warner's goal now was to push forward with the follow-up development of the DC film universe as quickly as possible.
Santa Monica.
Inside the conference room at Daenerys Entertainment headquarters, it was already Friday, January 5, 1990.
An all-day meeting, both companies' teams, led by Amy Pascal and Terry Semel, spent the entire time discussing their future cooperation and the DC film universe plan.
The original contract stipulated that after the first Batman trilogy, many details could be renegotiated, such as Warner's distribution commission percentage for subsequent films.
Fifteen percent across all channels was, in fact, extremely high.
Because the entire DC film universe plan involved too many interests, after a full day, aside from drafting a ten-film slate spanning five to seven years, the two sides only managed to preliminarily settle the commission percentages for future distribution.
Terry Semel didn't give much ground on that front, only making some concessions after breaking things down into domestic, overseas, videotape, and television platforms.
After negotiations, for follow-up films produced in cooperation and distributed by Warner Bros., the domestic distribution commission would drop to 12.5%, the overseas distribution commission would drop to 10%, and the commission on total revenue from videotape and television platforms would also be 12.5%.
Of course, marketing and publicity costs for each channel would still be calculated into costs and deducted separately. But because of Daenerys Entertainment's strict financial oversight in this area, it would also be difficult for Warner to play games there.
In addition, for certain projects that Daenerys Entertainment would handle distribution for in the future, the same commission structure would apply.
At five in the afternoon, the meeting ended.
Terry Semel and Amy Pascal walked out together. He asked the question he cared about most: "When do you think Simon will be back?"
Amy handed the folder in her hands to her assistant, Vanessa. "I don't know either. After the first-week box office numbers came out, I called him. He said he was taking Janet to Antarctica."
Terry Semel raised an eyebrow. "Antarctica?"
Amy laughed. "Yeah. Antarctica. From Melbourne, it's pretty close to Antarctica, right? I'm not really sure. But it's summer in the Southern Hemisphere right now, Antarctica's at its warmest time of year. Oh, and I think it's polar day, too. Perfect for a trip."
"And then?"
Amy shrugged. "I haven't been able to reach him these past few days. He didn't say when he'd be back either. Probably not until the end of the month."
Terry Semel gave a wry smile. "So he definitely won't be attending the celebration party this weekend."
"Mhm." Amy nodded. "And there's one more thing. Batman is doing great, so Simon had me draft a bonus plan. Roughly: three million each for the two leads, one million for a few supporting actors, and everyone else on the crew gets bonuses too. Total payout around twenty million. I wanted to let you know. Warner doesn't need to share this expense this time, but for future projects, any bonuses will have to be counted in the overall books."
Terry Semel nodded. "Twenty million, compared to what Daenerys is pulling in this time, that's nothing."
Amy smiled. She knew Terry Semel had been twisting himself into knots these past few days, so she didn't press the subject.
After seeing off the Warner group, Amy went to her office.
Nancy Brill had arrived ahead of time, sitting on the sofa in the visitor's area, flipping through a document.
When she saw Amy come in, Nancy stood and hugged her, then asked, "How did the meeting with Warner go?"
"It'll be a tug-of-war for a while yet. There's just too much to discuss," Amy said, then asked, "What about you? Did you get everything settled over in Rhode Island?"
Nancy had just returned from Rhode Island that afternoon, for Daenerys Entertainment's toy factory there.
This time, with the merchandising development for Batman, Daenerys Entertainment's Rhode Island toy plant had taken on production of the most profitable batch of main-character figures. In the end, it came down to inexperience. During the first week of release, every toy model produced by that factory sold out completely.
Nancy's trip had been partly to re-coordinate production at the factory, and partly to reach out to old contacts at Hasbro, outsourcing some toy orders that their own plant couldn't handle.
Hasbro's headquarters was also in Rhode Island.
"It's handled," Nancy said. "Honestly, I think selling out last time wasn't a bad outcome. After we restocked, those figures sold even faster. Simon told us a few times before, scarcity marketing. It really works. Oh, and I brought back some limited-edition toys. Want to give any to someone?"
"Absolutely. Save a few for me. My nephew begged me for them at Christmas and I couldn't get any, his parents chewed him out for it, and I got an earful too."
The two chatted and laughed. Amy motioned for Nancy to sit, then went behind her desk, opened the safe, took out an envelope, and walked back over, handing it to Nancy. "Simon asked me to pass this to you."
Nancy opened the envelope. Inside was a five-million-dollar check. "This is?"
"A bonus," Amy said, sitting down beside her. Vanessa brought in coffee just then. Amy took it and held the cup in both hands, then continued, "You know what Simon's like. Your contract can't be changed in the short term, so this is additional compensation."
Nancy didn't hesitate at all. She slipped the check into her shoulder bag and asked Amy, "Did he offer it on his own, or did you fight for it?"
"I mentioned it, and you could say he offered it," Amy said. "He really does care about you."
Nancy knew Amy's "care" didn't mean anything else, but she still put on an unhappy face. "That sounded awfully suggestive."
"All right, fine, I forgot you're single," Amy said with a laugh. "Actually, it's not bad that we're not rushing to revise the contract. When the three years are up, the company will probably be going public. Then you can sign a new contract with stock options attached."
Nancy's eyes lit up. "Simon talked to you about the IPO plan?"