After the weekend, when Ryan and his group set foot in New York, the first-week box office results for Terminator 2 were freshly released.
Perhaps due to his influence, the film was not handed over to Columbia Pictures for distribution like in his previous life. Instead, a distribution agreement was signed with 20th Century Fox.
20th Century Fox secured nearly 2,500 theaters for the film. After the first four days of release, Terminator 2 raked in $58.87 million at the North American box office, shocking everyone—this figure had already surpassed the sensation caused by Batman in 1989.
Scratching his head as he looked at the numbers, Ryan couldn't quite recall what the opening weekend box office had been in his past life, but vaguely remembered it being lower than Batman's. It seemed his popularity and influence had made quite an impact—the film had already turned a profit.
In fact, most of the costs for Terminator 2 had been recouped even before shooting began. Mario Kassar might not have been capable of running a major film company, but he was more than competent when it came to managing a mid-sized studio.
After three months of negotiations, he sold the home video rights for $10 million, TV broadcast rights for $7 million, and due to the lack of overseas distribution rights, he sold those to 20th Century Fox for $65 million. A few subtle product placements brought in another $2 million.
To prevent monopolies, laws stipulated that production and distribution of a film could not be handled by the same company. Moreover, overseas distribution rights were monopolized by the Big Seven film studios. Neither James Cameron nor Anne Hurd had a choice in the matter.
At the time, Ryan had even wanted to buy the overseas rights himself, but he not only lacked the money, he also didn't have the authority to distribute internationally.
With the political changes in Eastern Europe, the market there gradually opened up. Many films started to gross more overseas than domestically. Just like in his past life, Terminator 2 only earned a little over $200 million in North America, but overseas it grossed $300 million. Even though the revenue split with foreign theaters was far less favorable than in the U.S., it was still a huge chunk of profit.
But all of this was controlled by the major players. Don't think that just because you've started a film company and made a dozen movies you can stand shoulder to shoulder with Hollywood's giants—that's just a joke.
Another key point: they held seats in the MPAA—the Motion Picture Association of America—the organization responsible for movie ratings, which could directly influence a film's classification after completion. For example, Terminator 2 was rated R in his past life, meaning those under 17 had to be accompanied by a parent or guardian. If it had been rated NC-17, meaning no one under 17 could watch at all, the North American box office would have been cut in half.
It's simple—teenagers will always be the main consumers of movies.
Without a massive film library, without control over theater chains, without independent overseas distribution, and without a seat in the MPAA—even someone like Steven Spielberg and his DreamWorks, which came close to being the eighth major studio, eventually had to bow out under the combined pressure of the giants.
In the future, he might become a billionaire and a superstar, maybe even one of the most powerful figures in Hollywood. But becoming a media tycoon? That would be incredibly difficult.
No one knew better than him that in the coming years, media giants like Viacom, Comcast, and France's Vivendi would soon step into the film industry. From then on, Hollywood would fully enter the era of conglomerates. Second-tier studios like New Line and Miramax would become mere subsidiaries through acquisition.
As for the idea that someone could become a media mogul just by making movies, writing books, or releasing albums…
Ryan shook his head, throwing all those wishful thoughts from his past life out the window. He had to start controlling himself and stop entertaining such unrealistic ideas—they could be deadly. He had no desire to jump off the Golden Gate Bridge or the Empire State Building someday.
With the film's massive success now inevitable, the crew decided to stay at the Waldorf Astoria Hotel in New York. But just as Ryan stepped into the hotel lobby with a warm smile on his face, he ran into a rather unexpected figure.
"Ryan Jenkins, don't say you don't recognize me." The girl wore a pink knee-length dress. She had grown significantly since a few months ago, both in height and figure—her previously flat chest had started to show some curves.
"Miss Hilton… alright, Paris!" Ryan rolled his eyes helplessly and switched to her nickname. "Nice to see you again."
"Where's the new Harry Potter manuscript? Back in Beverly Hills, you promised I'd be the first to read it once it was written." Paris Hilton was as blunt as ever.
"I… I… when did I promise that?" Ryan's eyes widened like saucers. She clearly wasn't here to reason. He thought, If I can't fight her, I'll just run. Time to vanish!
But just as he turned around, the girl behind him grabbed his backpack. She'd been watching him the whole time—there was no way she'd let him get away so easily. If it weren't for all the chaos last time, she would've already come knocking to demand the next installment.
"Ryan, is this how you treat your fans…"
"Hey Ryan, who's this little lady?" James Cameron walked by. Not only did he offer no help, he even fanned the flames. "Your girlfriend? Not bad—great taste!"
G-Girlfriend? Ryan had the urge to slam his head against the floor. If she were my girlfriend, with the number of times she's been cheated on in the future, I'd be crushed to death.
"Who's this bearded guy?" Paris lifted her chin slightly.
"A know-it-all, a tyrant, an old perv," Ryan snapped back without hesitation.
Well, that was it. Cameron turned on his heel and left. He wasn't about to argue with two brats. Besides, that little guy could be absolutely infuriating when he wanted to be—Cameron wasn't about to go looking for trouble.
Ryan had no choice. By now, quite a few people were staring. He really didn't want to be seen pulling and tugging with her in public, so he turned back around and changed the subject. "Why are you here?"
"I live here, duh." The little girl gave him a look like he was an idiot. "The Waldorf Astoria is owned by my family. I've lived here since I was little."
Only then did Ryan remember—the hotel really was part of the Hilton Group. He blinked, recalling a few things. Paris Hilton and her sister Nicky Hilton were indeed raised in the hotel's presidential suite.
"Alright, Paris." Ryan pulled her aside to avoid putting on a show for the lobby crowd. "The fourth Harry Potter book hasn't even been started. Also, I just got to New York. Can I get some rest first?"
"Hmm… okay."
Giving George a subtle signal with his eyes, Ryan quickly headed for the elevators. Just as he finally exhaled in relief, he noticed Paris trailing close behind.
Once they reached the floor reserved for the film crew, Ryan entered his suite. Seeing the pink-clad girl follow him in, he was more than a little exasperated.
To be honest, Paris Hilton's infamous reputation from his previous life had colored his perception. But after living in North America for so long in this life, he understood that in some of the more liberal coastal states, many girls were wilder than her before marriage. They just didn't come from wealthy, high-profile families—or have an ex-boyfriend who leaked a sex tape. In a way, she was a victim too.
Of course, after the tape incident, she completely gave up on her reputation. That was on her.
"Your film crew is so stingy." The girl pouted, clearly unimpressed by the suite. "With your status, you should've demanded the presidential suite."
The room was just a regular suite at the Waldorf—a small living room and two bedrooms. Ryan thought it was fine, but it certainly didn't compare to a luxury or presidential suite.
He just rolled his eyes. What could he say? Expect a silver-spoon princess to understand budgeting and the hardships of earning money?
"Want something to drink?" Ryan pointed to the glasses. She was a guest after all—he couldn't just ignore her.
Seeing her shake her head, Ryan stopped bothering and started unpacking his suitcase by the desk. Aside from a few changes of clothes and his guitar, the rest were all manuscripts and sheet music. As she watched him stack up the thick pile on the desk, Paris's mouth gradually opened wider and wider.
"Can I take a look?" she asked curiously.
"Sure, but after you read it, you can't tell anyone else." Ryan didn't even look up as he sorted through the concept drafts.
"I promise."
There wasn't anything particularly special in there—just The Lion King's script and some concept art. As for the sheet music—was it reasonable to expect that girl to understand musical scores?
The Lion King's script wasn't complicated. Honestly, it was just a simplified animal version of Hamlet. Ryan had already completed most of it. But like The Bodyguard, this script also heavily relied on its songs, especially "Circle of Life" and "Can You Feel the Love Tonight."
Since he'd already plagiarized most of the script, there was no reason to skip the songs. He still remembered most of the classic pieces clearly. And even if there were some gaps, his current musical skills could easily fill them in.
Still, some songs had slipped his memory. Those he would need to recreate from scratch, using the plot and the animal characters as inspiration.
"This is really pretty. Is this a little lion?" Paris pulled out one of the drawings and asked, "Can I have it?"
Her tone was phrased as a question, but her expression clearly said This is mine now—no backsies.
Ryan glanced at it. It was a colored pencil sketch of two young lions walking side by side—young Simba and Nala.
He had drawn several versions of those two already, so he nodded. But to prevent this heiress from eyeing more of his stuff, he quickly packed up the rest of the scripts and sheet music and handed them to George.
"Thanks, Ryan." For once, she actually said thank you. Then her eyes sparkled and she said, "Tell you what, to show my gratitude—dinner's on me tonight."