Chapter 98: The Reign of Animation
At Dawnlight Films, Aaron sat in his office chair, a copy of the San Francisco Chronicle spread open on his desk.
The headline leapt out at him:
"Disney's The Little Mermaid Sells Nine Million VHS Copies!"
Aaron stared at the numbers, stunned.
"Nine million tapes… at $19.99 apiece?"
That was nearly $180 million in sales — from home video alone.
Even after deducting costs, Disney would pocket well over half of that.
And that wasn't counting rental income, laserdisc sales, and an endless flood of merchandise — dolls, lunchboxes, posters, everything imaginable.
Released during the previous Christmas season, The Little Mermaid had grossed $110 million domestically and $220 million worldwide at the box office.
But the real treasure lay beyond theaters — Disney's empire of licensing and merchandise.
In fact, The Little Mermaid had already generated more profit than Pretty Woman.
And this year, Disney was preparing to release its next masterpiece — Beauty and the Beast.
Aaron exhaled, shaking his head with admiration.
"No wonder they're called the king of animation."
In the world of 2D hand-drawn animation, no one could touch Disney.
They were untouchable — an empire built on ink, paint, and imagination.
But Aaron also knew: challenging Disney on their turf was pointless.
The only path forward was technology.
"2D belongs to Disney," he mused. "But 3D… that's the future."
His thoughts turned to Steve Jobs.
After leaving Apple, Jobs had acquired Pixar, a small graphics studio developing computer animation technology.
Aaron had been watching Pixar closely — that was the company he wanted Dawnlight to align with.
Right now, Jobs was busy with his new computer company, NeXT, leaving Pixar on the back burner.
That, Aaron thought, could be the perfect opening.
---
Just then, Evelyn Beckett entered the office carrying a folder.
"Boss, Gary Foster sent over a script."
Aaron took it, glanced at the title — and smiled.
"Sleepless in Seattle."
A simple story: a widower raising his son connects with a journalist through a radio show — strangers brought together by fate.
Aaron remembered it vaguely — a warm, touching romantic comedy starring Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan.
Not as iconic as Pretty Woman, but still a huge success.
He nodded. "This is good. Have Brad negotiate with TriStar. We'll buy the script and develop it ourselves — but let them handle distribution."
Evelyn blinked. "TriStar doesn't want it?"
Aaron chuckled. "Exactly why I do."
If the majors overlooked it, that made it perfect for Dawnlight — small, heartfelt, and affordable.
"Alright," she said, noting it down.
---
Aaron leaned back in his chair. "By the way, how's Hook coming along?"
He wasn't really interested in the Peter Pan adaptation — what he wanted was to get close to Steven Spielberg's next project: Schindler's List.
Evelyn sighed. "Not great. Filming's behind schedule. Dustin Hoffman's in poor shape, and Julia Roberts — well, ever since her breakup, she's been a mess.
She's constantly late, distracted, even… dabbling in things she shouldn't."
Aaron nodded knowingly. Once Hook wrapped, Spielberg would turn his attention to Jurassic Park and Schindler's List.
That was when Dawnlight had to strike.
For now, the studio had a full slate:
Scent of a Woman in development,
Sleepless in Seattle newly acquired,
and possibly Speed later in the year if resources allowed.
But he knew — action films burned money fast. Romantic dramas and character pieces, on the other hand, built prestige.
---
By late February 1991, the 41st Berlin International Film Festival opened — the first since Germany's reunification.
The world, however, was distracted. Economic uncertainty and the eruption of the Gulf War meant only 25 films competed that year.
Still, The Silence of the Lambs emerged as one of the festival's highlights.
Jonathan Demme won the Silver Bear for Best Director — the film's first major international award.
And just days later, U.S. President George H. W. Bush declared victory —
"Kuwait has been liberated."
The Gulf War was over.
But for Aaron Anderson and Dawnlight Films, a new kind of war was just beginning —
the fight to rise in an industry ruled by titans like Disney and Spielberg.
And this time, Aaron intended to make sure Dawnlight was no longer in anyone's shadow.
Starting in mid-January, the Gulf War lasted barely forty-two days.
Most of it was fought in the skies — lightning air strikes, precision bombings — and when the ground assault finally began, it was over in just a hundred hours.
Iraq never stood a chance.
In his West Hollywood apartment, Aaron lounged on the sofa, watching CNN's live coverage on television.
He smirked. "This war didn't just make military history… it made CNN a global sensation."
For the first time, a network was broadcasting a war live via satellite, twenty-four hours a day, from the frontlines.
It was history in motion — and CNN had captured the world's attention.
Across the room, Nicole Kidman set down her script and blinked.
"I thought you were interested in the war itself," she said. "Not the news network."
Aaron chuckled. "Oh, I'm interested — just not in the explosions. I'm watching history shift. CNN's just started its golden age.
They'll rule the airwaves for a decade… at least until Fox News catches up after 9/11."
CNN, after all, was the first 24-hour news channel — even more influential now than the big three networks: ABC, CBS, and NBC.
---
Nicole picked up her script again. "So, what do you think of this story? You said Dawnlight's going to develop it after Ghost premieres?"
Aaron nodded. "That's right. We picked it up from TriStar — Sleepless in Seattle. We'll start pre-production once Ghost hits theaters."
Nicole smiled softly. "I like it. Romantic comedies aren't a bad change of pace."
Of course she didn't object — she was still building her name. And this was a perfect vehicle for her: charming, emotional, relatable.
The film's producer, Gary Foster, had tried to hire Garry Marshall (of Pretty Woman fame) to direct, but he'd passed.
TriStar had also gone through several screenwriters, none of whom satisfied the studio.
Veteran writer David Ward (The Sting, Major League) was currently revising the script, but Aaron found his draft too old-fashioned.
"The man doesn't understand modern romance," Aaron muttered. "He's from another era. Love today isn't about perfect endings — it's about connection."
He turned to Nicole. "I'm thinking of bringing in the writer from When Harry Met Sally — Nora Ephron — to do a full rewrite.
If she agrees, we'll have our voice and tone nailed down. Then we find the right director."
Aaron had already sketched the budget: $20 million — a comfortable figure for a mid-range romantic comedy.
For comparison, Scent of a Woman would cost about the same, with Al Pacino's salary alone at nearly $5 million after the success of Pretty Woman.
Nicole slid closer to him on the couch, resting her head on his shoulder. "Your instincts are better than most producers I've met."
Aaron smiled faintly. "That's because I still pay attention to stories — not just numbers."
---
She leaned in, changing the subject. "By the way, Boyz n the Hood opens soon, right? How wide is the release?"
Aaron's expression brightened. "Columbia's giving it a great push — over 800 theaters nationwide. Looks like our marketing strategy paid off."
Dawnlight had spent over a million dollars promoting both Boyz n the Hood and The Silence of the Lambs.
Columbia's investment was even greater, encouraged by strong test screenings that gave them confidence in the film's appeal.
"That's amazing," Nicole said, smiling — then leaned in and kissed him.
It had been a while since they'd last seen each other, and the distance had only made the spark stronger.
Aaron responded in kind, his hands tracing along her sides as she lifted her arms and slipped off her knit sweater.
"So…" she teased between kisses, "…who are you thinking of for the male lead?"
Aaron smirked, his voice low. "We'll decide once we lock the director."
He pressed her back against the sofa, the rest of the sentence lost in her breathy laugh.
Of course, the original Sleepless in Seattle would one day star Tom Hanks, but Aaron knew it was too early — Hanks wasn't quite there yet.
Nicole laughed softly, brushing her fingers through his hair. "Why not you, then? You'd be perfect."
Aaron stared at her, wide-eyed. "You want me to throw twenty million dollars into the Pacific?"
He chuckled, kissing her again.
"Trust me, sweetheart. The day I start acting is the day I've lost my mind."
One day, he thought, the industry might pay him tens of thousands per minute for his decisions — not his face.
And that was exactly how he liked it.
---