In the conference room, Paul Greengrass stared solemnly at the painting on the wall, not saying a word. A $4.1 million opening weekend, compared to the publicly announced $25 million production budget from Sand Sea Entertainment, was an absolute disaster.
Even if the actual production cost wasn't $25 million, the current situation of The Secret Agent still signaled failure.
To have his first Hollywood-directed film flop so badly, would he have to return to the UK?
Going back now would make it difficult, if not impossible, to re-enter Hollywood.
He might never come back.
There would be no more multi-million-dollar action films to direct, only a struggle within the UK's independent film circuit.
Paul Greengrass swallowed hard. Although he didn't expect the film to be a massive hit, this number shattered his hopes.
Was innovation really that difficult? Was Hollywood that resistant to change? Moreover, this wasn't a radical innovation, just an integration of some personal style into the existing action film format.
Paul Greengrass, a rather pure director, felt a bit ashamed: he had let Michael Davenport down with his full support.
Hollywood was producer-centered, with most directors being just the overseers on set. But Michael Davenport, as a producer, had given him almost unprecedented freedom. The film was edited largely according to his vision, with Davenport offering only minor suggestions during post-production. The film was completed as he had envisioned it.
It was rare to find such a trusting producer, not just in Hollywood, but also in the UK.
Dean glanced at the silent Paul Greengrass and said softly, "Paul, it's okay. Trust me, there's still a chance."
Paul Greengrass smiled at Dean, but there was a hint of bitterness in his artistic expression.
At nearly fifty years old, having finally entered Hollywood, Paul Greengrass treasured this opportunity.
"It's partly my fault too," Dean demonstrated the professional integrity of a good agent by taking some of the blame. "I should have advised you to decline Michael Davenport's project. An Arab protagonist was always risky. I was too eager, blinded by the opportunity."
Paul Greengrass shook his head, "It's not your fault, Dean." He sighed, "Nor is it Michael Davenport's fault. I didn't do a good job."
"I told you, the crew and Michael Davenport, along with Sand Sea Entertainment, gave me the utmost support. In the crew, I almost had the power of an A-list director in Hollywood. Such creative freedom is rare, not just in Hollywood but even in the UK."
Paul Greengrass slapped his thigh, "But I messed it up."
Dean didn't know what to say. He saw clearly that Michael Davenport had given Paul Greengrass immense support, and no one could fault Davenport for it.
Dean had seen the finished film; Paul Greengrass had done a good job. But a million reasons couldn't outweigh a failed box office in the eyes of the producers and distributors.
Michael Davenport had high hopes for Paul Greengrass, but this failure might change everything. Dean's ingrained perception was that a director who failed at the box office was less valuable than a wild goose in the mountains.
In business, who isn't profit-driven?
As a small agent at William Morris, with Paul Greengrass as his only high-quality director client, he didn't want to give up easily.
The conference room door opened from the outside, and Dean and Paul Greengrass turned to see Michael entering.
"Good morning," Michael greeted them. "I was in a meeting, sorry to keep you waiting."
Dean observed Michael carefully. There was no trace of dissatisfaction or anger on the young man's face. Smiling, Dean said, "It's okay. You manage two companies; you must be very busy."
Michael sat down on a sofa, "The various statistics for The Secret Agent just came in and needed to be processed. It took a bit longer than expected."
Paul Greengrass's eyelids twitched involuntarily. He felt primarily responsible for the film's box office failure.
Dean probed, "This film..."
"I've halted all plans related to The Secret Agent," Michael's words seemed genuine. "The company won't be putting any more resources into marketing and distribution. Our priority now is to minimize losses."
Dean didn't want to abandon this connection, "If there's anything I can help with, just let me know."
Michael showed a slightly disappointed smile, "I can handle it here." He rubbed his temples, "It's just hard to explain to the investors. It's going to be difficult to secure more financing from Abu Dhabi."
Dean and Paul Greengrass, unaware of the specifics, thought Michael was under tremendous pressure.
Losing over $20 million in investment, with the final recoup still unknown, wouldn't be easy for anyone.
Looking at Michael, Dean felt that this film might affect future collaborations, but comforting words and pleasantries felt inadequate. Even the most eloquent words couldn't compare to a loss of over $10 million.
Michael sighed, "Rest assured, Sand Sea Entertainment and Embassy Pictures will get through this."
Hearing this, Paul Greengrass opened his mouth but swallowed his words. He couldn't hold back any longer, "I'm sorry, Mr. Davenport, I didn't do my job well."
Michael shook his head, "We all didn't do our job well." He glanced quickly at Dean and Paul Greengrass before looking at his watch and standing up, "Sorry, I have a call with Abu Dhabi in ten minutes. We can talk more later."
Dean understood immediately that Michael was about to face some harsh questions from the investors. "We won't take up any more of your time," he said, still earnest. "Michael, if you need anything, just call."
William Morris had estimated The Blair Witch Project could bring in substantial revenue. One failure with The Secret Agent wouldn't put Sand Sea Entertainment and Embassy Pictures in jeopardy. Moreover, there was another film, Final Destination, which had received positive responses from both the media and theater chains. Michael Davenport had enough room to maneuver.
Producers, unlike directors, could always plan new film projects as long as they could secure funding.
Dean didn't want to lose this connection.
Paul Greengrass and Dean shook hands with Michael and left. Dean took one last look at Michael Davenport's worried face as he exited the conference room.
Outside Embassy Pictures, Dean told Paul Greengrass, "Avoid media interviews for now. Take some time off."
Inside Embassy Pictures, Michael entered Robert's office.
"Did you handle it?" Robert asked.
Michael pulled out a chair and sat down, "I sent Dean and Paul Greengrass away."
Robert was curious, "Why not discuss future collaborations directly? I don't think Dean or Paul Greengrass would refuse."
"Now isn't the right time." Michael explained simply, "The film just flopped at the box office. If we rush to renegotiate, Dean might sense something is wrong, leading to unexpected complications. Agents are sharp. Let's cool them off for a while. With the current box office of The Secret Agent, Paul Greengrass won't find suitable work soon. Dragging this out benefits us."
He smiled, "I want to sign Paul Greengrass for a trilogy directing contract. We need to pressure them. The film's failure is right here, and the pressure will increase daily."
Robert understood, "If we can sign a trilogy directing contract, even if the first film is a success, we'll hold the upper hand regarding pay raises for the director."
"Exactly," Michael nodded. "Imagine how much we'd have to pay Paul Greengrass if The Bourne Supremacy becomes a continuous success. It could even involve backend deals."
A contract reducing the pay by just ten percent could mean saving millions of dollars.
Robert was impressed, "You have a knack for profiting even from failed films. Michael, you were born for this."
Michael raised an eyebrow, "Why does that sound like an insult?"
Robert laughed, "It's a compliment, really."
Michael sighed, "Who wouldn't want a successful film? I also hoped The Secret Agent would be a hit. But the day we secured investment from the Abu Dhabi Investment Authority, this outcome was inevitable."
Dealing with official entities like the Abu Dhabi Investment Authority, Michael strictly followed the contract. If they said an Arab protagonist, he made it an Arab protagonist.
Not only wasn't it his money that was lost, but he could also reasonably deduct a portion of the film's revenue.
"Everything okay with Abu Dhabi?" Robert asked with concern.
Michael replied, "It's fine. I communicated with Saleh yesterday. Films are investments, and there are successes and failures. Plus, they received our sample copy, and Mansour and the other high-ranking officials at the Investment Authority are satisfied with the film's storyline and effects."
As long as these wealthy and powerful Arab magnates were pleased with the film, losses were trivial.
After all, the film portrayed an incredibly positive Arab protagonist.
Moreover, Saleh, the intermediary, always regarded Michael as an "Arab brother" and spoke positively on his behalf.
Michael shifted the topic, "How's the preparation for the premiere going?"
"Almost done," Robert said. "All materials are ready, and the media have been contacted. We're just waiting for the theater to free up so we can set up the venue."
Michael asked, "What about the guests?"
"We sent invitations to many stars and talent agencies as per your plan, but we got almost no responses," Robert replied.
This didn't surprise Michael; big-name stars were hard to invite.
Final Destination was two weeks away from its release, and the pre-release promotion had reached its most critical stage.