In the aftermath of the dot-com bubble, if you had to pick the companies with the most tragic fates, Yahoo wouldn't even make the list.
The top spot would go to UN Microelectronics, with Time Warner coming in second!
The merger between Time Warner and AOL had already racked up a staggering $90 billion in losses, and their stock price was still plummeting!
The CEO of AOL Time Warner, Levin, had stepped down, and three months ago, Time Warner's board member Richard Parsons officially took over.
His appointment was as explosive as President George W. Bush naming Colin Powell the first Black Secretary of State in U.S. history.
Richard Parsons had become the most powerful Black executive ever!
But could he save this sinking ship?
All signs pointed to… maybe not!
Still, upper-level corporate shakeups didn't affect Barry Meyer. Six months earlier, he'd smoothly taken over from Terry Semel, securing control of Warner Bros.
Barry Meyer might not match President Alan Horn's expertise in film, but when it came to people skills and coordinating with the parent company, he was in his element.
Bob Shay, on the other hand, was in a bind. After just one clash with Dunn, he'd been left battered and bruised, with no room to fight back. His only option was to turn to Barry Meyer, the big boss, for help.
The meeting took place on a luxurious private yacht docked at Laguna Beach's harbor.
The last time Barry Meyer had met Dunn here, it was to negotiate a co-investment deal, and it had gone off without a hitch. He hoped this time would be the same.
But when he saw Dunn, Barry couldn't help but pause for a split second.
Last time, Dunn had brought a stunning beauty—Penelope Cruz—who'd starred in two Warner-backed films.
Now… he'd swapped her out for another gorgeous, vibrant young woman!
"Dunn, you're really living it up… I mean, young and thriving!" Barry Meyer stepped forward warmly, giving Dunn a big hug.
Dunn smirked, glancing at him. "Bob's not here?"
Barry shook his head with a wry smile. "You… still as hot-headed as ever! He's up on the front deck. Probably too embarrassed to face you."
Dunn chuckled, then gestured to the girl beside him. "This is Anne Hathaway, an actress."
"Hi, Mr. Meyer. You can call me Anne," Anne Hathaway said, her smile as sweet as ice cream.
Barry gave her a quick once-over and grinned. "Great look, great vibe. I'll let the production team know—if there's a good project, we'll reach out."
Dunn burst out laughing. "Barry, you've got it all wrong! She starred in Disney's The Princess Diaries, a huge box office hit. Plus, she's leading a big commercial film I'm producing, set for next summer. By then… Warner might be begging her, and she might not even have the time!"
Anne's cheeks flushed with delight, making her even more radiant.
Barry shot Dunn a mock glare. "Alright, let's head over to Bob. And watch your words."
Dunn grinned. "I know."
They were all sharp enough to read between the lines.
Brett Ratner was just a second- or third-tier director in Hollywood—a small fry. Barry Meyer stepping in personally was already a nod to Dunn's influence. And Dunn showing up, armed with the moral high ground, was a sign of good faith.
If both sides gave a little, this could be settled easily.
The yacht started up, gliding away from the harbor. The sea and sky stretched out endlessly, a breathtaking scene that lifted the spirits.
A gentle breeze brushed through Anne Hathaway's soft hair, pairing perfectly with her sweet, innocent smile—enough to melt anyone.
Dunn slipped an arm around her slim waist, the scent of her filling his senses, brightening his mood even more.
On the yacht's front deck, a simple white table sat with a bottle of red wine and a few glasses. Bob Shay stood up, looking a bit flustered. "D-Dunn… heh, you're here…"
Dunn stepped forward with a smile, shaking his hand. "I thought we'd be meeting on a battlefield, not out here with blue skies and open water."
Bob stammered, forcing a weak laugh. "Dunn, you… you're quite the joker."
Barry Meyer hurried over, ushering everyone to sit and pouring Dunn a glass of wine himself. "It's just a small-time director. Ban him and be done with it—no big deal. No need to let it sour things!"
Dunn shrugged casually. "Yeah, a small director. I wasn't even sweating it. But Bob seems pretty attached to him."
Barry chuckled. "I know the situation—it's Brett Ratner, right? He directs the Rush Hour series. It's a decent money-maker, so banning him hits New Line's bottom line hard."
Bob nodded eagerly. "Exactly! In business, running a company, profit's what matters most, right?"
Dunn shook his head. "Not for me. Face and dignity come first."
Bob's expression froze, and he shot Barry a pleading look.
Barry waved a hand dismissively. "Like I said, it's a minor issue. If a small director's existence clashes with your dignity, then your reputation obviously takes priority!"
Anne Hathaway, sitting quietly beside Dunn, felt her heart race.
Listening to these big shots talk was downright chilling.
Brett Ratner… the director of the Rush Hour series, brushed off as nothing? His worth less than a bigwig's pride? If a director like that didn't matter, what were small-time actors like her?
Suddenly, Hollywood felt like a chessboard—these moguls were the players, and actors and directors were just pawns they moved at will.
She glanced at Dunn, chatting and laughing beside her, and realized how crucial it was to latch onto someone powerful.
Dunn gave Barry a long look, smiling faintly. This guy was a true heavyweight at Warner Bros.—his poise and decisiveness outclassed Bob Shay by miles.
"Of course, I'm not about to tank New Line's profits just to boost my own ego."
Though still young, Dunn had been through enough in recent years to mellow out his once-reckless style. He'd learned the art of knowing when to push and when to pull back.
Barry flashed a satisfied grin.
Bob perked up, a bit excited. "You've got a plan?"
Dunn said, "I watched Rush Hour 2. Tight pacing, pretty fun, but overall, the story's stale and predictable. Expectations are low."
Bob nodded. That tracked. Rush Hour 2 had crushed it at the box office, pulling in over $200 million in North America, but the reviews were lukewarm.
Barry smiled slightly. "I think it could work."
Bob caught Dunn's drift too.
For a sequel, box office success was the baseline. But reputation mattered. If the word of mouth was too bad and audiences lost interest, even a big hit couldn't justify rushing into another installment. You had to let time rebuild anticipation before rebooting the franchise.
Take Universal's The Mummy. After the first film's success, they fast-tracked The Mummy Returns, riding the original's hype to over $430million worldwide. But the reviews tanked.
Left with no choice, Universal shelved the third Mummy film, waiting five or six years to try again.
The Rush Hour series faced the same issue now.
Rush Hour 2 had solid numbers, but its reputation was shot. Jackie Chan had churned out too many similar flicks lately, and U.S. audiences were over it.
Rush Hour 3 would have to wait.
In its previous life, it didn't hit theaters until 2007.
Bob's mood lightened considerably. Dunn wasn't going for the kill, and that was the biggest mercy he could ask for. He let out a relieved laugh. "Well, that's a load off! As long as my film projects aren't hit, everything else is manageable."
Dunn took a small sip of wine, his tone cool. "I told you, I only care about my dignity. All of Hollywood knows I want him banned. I need results."
Barry waved a hand grandly. "Easy fix. I'll personally reach out to the major studios and slap Brett Ratner with a three-year 'no-work' ban as punishment!"
Dunn frowned, holding up five fingers. "Five years."
Barry didn't blink. "Done!"
Bob grinned. "Ratner's been abusing his power on set, mistreating women—it's caused a real mess. Some punishment's fair. But let's keep it internal, no need to alert the press."
As long as the public didn't catch wind, Ratner's image would stay intact, and the Rush Hour brand wouldn't take a hit.
Dunn nodded. "No need to go public, sure. But an internal memo is non-negotiable. I want a formal apology from him, filed with all the major studios and agencies."
Barry, all authority, declared, "Settled! Bob, you handle Ratner. If he cooperates, great. If not… hmph!"
Bob said, "I've got it. A five-year ban could be good for him—let him cool off, brush up on theory, you know? He's young; he'll figure out what matters."
Anne Hathaway sat silently beside Dunn, dumbfounded.
Was this for real?
Brett Ratner was a rising star in Hollywood!
And these three guys had just decided his career—his entire future—in a few casual sentences? Without even needing his consent?
That's power!
Bob Shay was one thing, but Dunn Walker and Barry Meyer? They were the ultimate heavyweights in Hollywood!