Duke Hauser stood near the glass of his office, a cup of coffee in his hands, as he stared out.
He loved this office, and today, the office was prepped for a rare kind of person.
Stanley Kubrick, a man who famously despised air travel yet had crossed the Atlantic on ship for a face-to-face meeting.
The heavy oak door clicked open, and Duke's assistant ushered the legendary director in before quietly retreating.
Duke placed his coffee down and crossed the room with a warm, genuine smile, extending his hand. "Stanley. Welcome to Paramount. I appreciate you making the journey. I know the trip from London isn't your favorite way to spend a week."
Kubrick took the hand firmly, before settling his intense gaze on Duke. "The journey is a necessary evil, Duke. When a person like you personally invites you to discuss cinema, one makes an exception."
Duke gestured to the leather seating opposite his desk.
Once seated, Kubrick leaned forward, hands clasped, addressing the elephant in the room. "I imagine you're aware of the unfortunate situation regarding my Napoleon picture," he began, his voice carrying lingering frustration.
Duke nodded, expression empathetic but sharp. "I am, Stanley. And for what it's worth, I think it's a tragedy for the film medium. I was fully prepared to back your vision right here at Paramount."
Kubrick let out a heavy sigh, leaning back into the leather. "That Waterloo picture killed it. Bondarchuk's film was an spectacular failure last year. Lost somewhere between twenty-five and forty million dollars."
"Overnight, every studio executive became terrified of the topic, financing evaporated. The story is, for the foreseeable future, dead." He paused. "Which is why I'm here to discuss the pivot."
Duke appreciated the directness. "I understand the heartbreak, Stanley, but the industry runs on pivots. So what's the new vision? What are we making together?"
Kubrick's eyes lit up. "Barry Lyndon," he announced. "Based on Thackeray's 1844 novel. An exploration of eighteenth-century European aristocracy, the rise and fall of an Irish rogue."
"I intend to shoot the entire film using only natural lighting and candlelight to authentically capture the era's landscape paintings."
He leaned closer, "To achieve this, I've secured incredibly rare, ultra-fast fifty-millimeter lenses originally developed by Carl Zeiss for the NASA Apollo moon landings. They're the only lenses on earth capable of capturing an image in such low light. It will look like nothing the world has ever seen on a motion picture screen."
Duke smiled, this was exactly the kind of reason why he loved the business, the passion of people to bring their story to light.
"Stanley, that sounds amazing. I have no problem with you shooting entirely on location in Europe, and I'll happily give you complete, unbothered control over your process."
He paused, his tone shifting slightly more serious. "However, we need a very clear understanding right now. I'm not the old guard. I don't run a charity either. If Paramount is going to fully bankroll this, I demand absolute compliance on the release schedule."
Kubrick's eyes narrowed slightly, processing the shift, but he remained silent. Duke leaned forward, locking gazes.
"Furthermore, there will be a strict adherence to the final agreed-upon budget cap. You're a genius, Stanley, and I'll give you the tools to paint your masterpiece, but you'll paint it within the frame we agree upon today."
"No endless reshoots spanning three years. No budget overruns that hold the studio hostage. If you can operate within the financial and temporal borders of our contract, Paramount will back you to the ends of the earth. Do we have an understanding?"
A tense silence hung in the room. Then Kubrick cracked a small smile.
"I can agree to those parameters, Duke. However, you must understand one fundamental reality. Once I return to London to begin pre-production, I will not be coming back to America anytime soon. I will not be flying to Los Angeles for quarterly budget meetings or executive hand-holding."
Duke laughed. "Stanley, you focus on the lighting and the performances. If anything needs discussing, I'll personally send someone from Paramount directly to your doorstep in London."
The two men stood, shaking hands once more.
---
Hours later, the sun had dipped below the horizonin the Owlwood estate. Duke sat on his massive living room sofa, dressed down in a soft cashmere sweater and slacks.
In his hands, he held a steaming bowl of bright red, spicy Samyang cup noodles, a recent discovery from his business trip to Korea that he'd quickly become obsessed with.
He twirled the noodles around his fork, took a massive bite, and let out a satisfied sigh as the intense heat hit his palate.
He looked over at Lynda, who sat at the opposite end of the sofa wrapped in a plush blanket, carrying an expression of mild, affectionate annoyance.
"I simply do not understand how you can eat that sludge," Lynda remarked, eyeing the bright red broth with suspicion. "It smells like chemicals, Duke. I could have made you a salad."
Duke chuckled, taking another enthusiastic bite before pointing his fork at her playfully. "This is the food of the masses, Lynda. You should really broaden your culinary horizons."
Lynda rolled her eyes, pulling her blanket tighter. "I'll stick to my culinary horizons, thank you very much. I already called the front gate. Ordered a large pepperoni and mushroom from Domino's."
Right on cue, the heavy oak front door opened, and Russel, Duke's physically imposing head of security, stepped into the house carrying a cardboard box.
Lynda had already given him the cash earlier, knowing Duke rarely carried small bills.
"Pizza's here, Miss Carter," Russel announced, placing the box on the marble kitchen island before giving Duke a nod and retreating back outside.
Lynda practically sprinted to the kitchen, retrieving two slices on a paper plate before hurrying back to the couch.
As she settled in, Duke reached for the remote, clicking on the premium HBO feed.
The screen flickered to life, displaying The Andromeda Strain. He settled back into the cushions, slurping his noodles while mindlessly watching scientists panic over an extraterrestrial microorganism.
"You know," Duke said casually, gesturing toward the screen with his fork, "the guy who wrote the book this movie's based on, a guy named Michael Crichton is actually making his directorial debut for Paramount this year."
"We're backing a science fiction project called Westworld. About a futuristic amusement park filled with androids that go rogue."
Lynda took a bite of her pizza, chewing thoughtfully while looking at the screen with polite disinterest. "That sounds interesting, honey. A theme park going wrong? Seems bleak, doesn't it?"
Duke smiled inwardly, his mind racing far beyond the current decade. Michael Crichton. Theme parks going wrong.
He mentally reminded himself of the goldmine Crichton represented.
The man who would eventually write Jurassic Park one of the most lucrative intellectual properties of the late twentieth century.
A thought crossed his mind, should he just write the dinosaur park concept himself? He had the complete memory of the plot, the characters, the structure. Could establish copyright a decade early.
Lynda shifted on the couch, sliding over to lay her head on Duke's chest, her long dark hair spilling over his sweater, distracting him from his internal monologue. "I've already seen this movie. It's a little slow," she murmured, her voice carrying a subtle thread of frustration that Duke instantly recognized.
He knew why she was annoyed. She'd officially moved into Owlwood two weeks ago, a massive step but Duke had spent almost the entire week buried at the studio, orchestrating theme park expansions and managing directors.
Furthermore, she'd been gently but persistently trying to get him to clear a weekend so they could fly to Phoenix to finally meet her parents.
Her mother worked a assembly line job for Motorola and her father was a dealer of rare antiques, not really wealthy people.
They were eager to meet the guy who'd swept their daughter off her feet. Duke knew he'd been putting it off, unsure of how to take the next step.
Duke set his empty noodle cup down on the glass coffee table and wrapped his arm securely around Lynda, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
"I know I've been buried at the lot lately, but theme park logistics are a nightmare. But I actually do have some incredible news for you."
Lynda looked up, her beautiful eyes narrowed in slightly confused suspicion.
"What kind of news?" she asked cautiously.
Duke let a smile break across his face, "I finally got the paperwork finalized today. May 1973. That's the official start date for the production of The New Original Wonder Woman pilot film."
Lynda gasped, her posture instantly stiffening as she pushed herself up to look him directly in the eyes, her pizza completely forgotten. "Are you serious? It's really happening?"
Duke nodded enthusiastically, "Completely serious. And I personally made sure that Stanley Ralph Ross, the primary writer and creative force behind the adaptation knows that the Paramount's Chairman is highly invested in seeing you succeed in this role."
Lynda tried her best to maintain a cool composure, but it was impossible. A radiant smile took over her face.
"And there's one more thing," Duke added, "I saw the initial costume sketches the network was trying to push. They wanted you in this ridiculous diaper-style bottom. I vetoed it. The final design will have a star-spangled skirt."
Lynda let out a laugh, throwing her arms around Duke's neck and hugging him fiercely.
"Thank you," she whispered against his neck.
Duke held her tight, feeling a warmth in his chest.
"You earned it, Lynda. Now, regarding the schedule... I do have a slight logistical hurdle. I need to fly to Florida next week to finalize some massive political negotiations for the Paramount Park project. Unavoidable. It's going to delay the Phoenix trip by just a few days."
Lynda didn't hesitate. The frustration over his work hours was gone, replaced by a thrilling sense of shared adventure.
"Are you kidding me? A trip to Florida? After the week I've had, waiting around this empty house, you're not leaving me behind. Phoenix can wait another week."
---
A week later, Duke, dressed in a charcoal suit, walked alongside Barry Diller through the marble corridors of the Florida State Capitol building.
They were scheduled to meet with Governor Reubin Askew, a man whose political reputation preceded him.
Askew was a staunch, moralistic reformer, deeply committed to cleaning up state politics and protecting Florida's natural beauty.
As they approached the heavy oak doors of the Governor's office, Duke adjusted his tie.
Inside, Governor Askew sat behind a cluttered desk, surrounded by state and national flags.
He was a stern-looking man, his eyes sharp as he gestured for Duke and Diller to sit.
"Mr. Hauser, Mr. Diller. Let me be perfectly clear from the start," Askew began, "Your proposal for a Paramount theme park in Orlando is certainly ambitious. It brings jobs and capital."
"But my reaction is one of cautious skepticism rather than open-armed enthusiasm. The state of Florida is not your personal playground."
Duke maintained steady eye contact, posture relaxed, showing no offense. He simply nodded, inviting the man to continue.
Askew leaned forward, elbows on the desk. "Any project of Paramount's proposed size and scope will have to face my new, rigorous environmental review process. I want to ensure massive corporate developments don't drain the state's water, disrupt wetland ecosystems, or ruin the 'paradise' aesthetic that draws people to Florida in the first place."
He paused, eyes narrowing. "Furthermore, I know exactly what kind of deal my predecessors gave Disney in the late sixties. That 'Reedy Creek' improvement district, granting a private corporation autonomous, self-governing powers?"
"That era is over. I've spent my entire term fighting business interests, and I will fight tooth and nail against giving Paramount Pictures its own private kingdom."
Duke remained incredibly calm, utilizing his most potent weapon, agreeable charm.
"Governor Askew, I want to assure you that Paramount Pictures has absolutely zero intention of subverting your authority or damaging the magnificent state of Florida," Duke replied, his voice rich with sincere respect.
"We don't want a private kingdom. We want to be good corporate citizens. We fully welcome your environmental review process, and we're prepared to commit millions of dollars toward advanced drainage systems and ecological preservation as part of our initial construction phase. We want to enhance the community, not exploit it."
Askew seemed slightly taken aback by Duke's lack of resistance, his stern expression softening just a little.
Askew pressed his final, deepest concern. "I'm also deeply concerned about the moral character of Florida's explosive growth. I blocked the initiative to build massive oceanfront casinos in this state, and I will not tolerate any development that brings vice or corruption to our communities."
"If Paramount promises wholesome, family-friendly entertainment, similar to what Disney provides. But the absolute second there's any hint of illicit nightlife, gambling, or moral decay associated with your property, you will meet my fierce opposition."
Duke smiled warmly, "Governor, Paramount Park will feature comic book heroes and classic animated characters. No casinos. No vice. We are entirely aligned with your vision for a wholesome, prosperous Florida."
The meeting concluded with a firm, mutually respectful handshake. Askew felt he'd successfully laid down the law to the Hollywood executives.
Duke knew he'd effortlessly navigated the political minefield without giving up any strategic advantage.
As Duke and Diller walked out of the Capitol building and stepped into the humid Florida sunshine, Diller let out a long, heavy breath. "Well, that was intense. He's not going to make the zoning process easy for us. He's going to scrutinize every single permit."
Duke simply smiled, a grin spreading across his face as he put on a pair of dark aviator sunglasses.
"Barry, relax." Duke's tone brimmed with optimism as they walked toward their waiting car. "Askew is exactly what he appears to be, a temporary obstacle."
"We gave him the respect he demanded, promised him the family-friendly optics he needs for his constituents, and successfully got our foot in the door. We'll happily play ball for now."
He clapped Diller firmly on the shoulder.
"But starting tomorrow, we quietly vet and heavily lobby his likely successors. We survive Askew but we buy the next guy in office to get the tax breaks and the long-term autonomy Paramount truly wants."
____
Higher pace chapter
I been having a tough week but finally friday is here