Jack Valenti resisted the young man's persistent control of the conversation's rhythm. "Simon, the answer to that question is obvious."
"Yes, obvious," Simon replied for him. "The writers want higher pay and better treatment. But fundamentally, it stems from the completely opposing positions of the writers and the producers' alliance. Different positions lead to conflicts of interest, and conflict inevitably causes damage sometimes mutual destruction, as we saw over the past six months."
Valenti felt the calm, piercing gaze of the man opposite him and suddenly sensed his own age.
"I understand what you're saying, Simon, but this is absolutely not a wise choice. You cannot take on all of Hollywood."
Simon shook his head. "Jack, you don't understand. I have no intention of opposing all of Hollywood. Though I'm not afraid to, what we're discussing here is a matter of stance."
Valenti frowned. "Stance?"
"Exactly - stance. I don't object to the ratings board's discriminatory review tactics. It's only natural for those with vested interests to protect their privileges; it happens in every industry. The traditional Big Seven studios are Hollywood's entrenched powers, and even Orion is cut from the same cloth. They are the 'players' in this game, the rule-makers. Weaker independent producers are merely 'pawns,' forced to submit. It's unfair, yet in its own way fair. The problem now is that Daenerys Entertainment has the strength to be a 'player,' yet some still treat it as a 'pawn.' That pushes Daenerys into a position of complete opposition."
Valenti listened quietly, then said, "Simon, if you understand this, you should also realize that transitioning from one tier to another is never easy. You cannot expect the traditional powers to accept Daenerys so quickly."
"Whether willingly or unwillingly, people must face reality," Simon said, leaning forward slightly and fixing his gaze on Valenti. "Next Monday, Daenerys will resubmit Scream for rating. It will be our final attempt this year, and it will determine our stance. If it still fails to receive an R-rating, I will accept reality, cancel the film's release, and confirm our 'pawn' position. Then, from that standpoint, I will lead the other 'pawns' in resisting the MPAA ratings board's long-standing unfair treatment of independent producers."
Valenti leaned back imperceptibly but did not look away. "Simon, do you think no one has tried this before?"
"A true 'pawn' is trapped in the game and finds it hard to fight the rules. Daenerys is different. Scream cost ten million dollars, a sum that could make or break many independents. Faced with similar suppression, they usually bow to the majors and hand over distribution rights to avoid losses. I don't care, Jack. Ten million dollars—losing it all means nothing to me. Hollywood won't find anyone richer." Simon's tone sharpened. "But I will not accept the loss quietly. If they push a 'player' capable of breaking the rules onto the board as a pawn, they shouldn't complain when I smash the board. If Scream still fails next time, mainstream North American media will immediately run stories about the film's unfair treatment in the rating process. That's just the beginning. Then I'll invest another ten million to produce a documentary on the unfair treatment independent producers have faced under the 'voluntary' rating system. Jack, my team has already compiled over thirty similar films as case studies—the list is in the folder you're holding."
Valenti instinctively reopened the folder. After the memos on Basic Instinct and Scream was indeed a long list of films, many instantly recognizable.
Without waiting for a response, Simon continued. "A simple comparison of similar content in major-studio releases versus these independents would easily prove the bias. As a 'player' forced into the 'pawn' position, I will lead the pawns to change this deeply unfair system. Since our stances differ, I believe the ratings board should not be controlled by the MPAA. It should either become a federal agency or be overseen by a broader organization like the Producers Guild to ensure independence and fairness. If necessary, I can spend another ten million lobbying the federal government. Once the issue gains traction, the many suppressed independents will undoubtedly contribute their strength. Finally, I could establish a dedicated foundation to sue the MPAA for massive damages on behalf of films over the past twenty years that suffered commercial losses due to overly restrictive ratings. Even if the lawsuits fail, I'll keep going. I wonder then whether the MPAA's annual budget could sustain the legal costs. Jack, shall I go on?"
Valenti felt a thin layer of sweat form along his spine.
If the documentary Simon described materialized, the MPAA would immediately be on the defensive. Even without the thirty-plus films listed, the starkly different treatment in the Basic Instinct and Scream memos alone would hand Daenerys the moral high ground in public opinion.
Once the controversy erupted, the federal government would have to take it seriously, creating an opening for lobbying.
And establishing a foundation for endless lawsuits, an almost rogue tactic, yet devastatingly effective. No company or trade association could withstand such sustained bombardment.
Public relations assault, financial warfare, litigation blitz.
Combined, they could topple regimes. An industry association backed by only a handful of studios would stand little chance.
For a moment Valenti seriously wondered how a twenty-year-old had devised strategies more ruthless and sophisticated than those of seasoned politicians. [TL/N: This is peak hollywood novel!]
There were clearly more documents after the film list, but Valenti found himself reluctant to turn the page. He closed the increasingly heavy folder and looked up. "Simon, none of this benefits you."
"I know," Simon said seriously. "But it's a matter of stance and one that others have chosen. Jack, a mentor recently advised me not to break rules lightly, and I have no desire to. But if opposition is forced upon me, this is the inevitable result."
"All for one film, Scream?"
"If the problem isn't resolved once and for all, Daenerys will face many more such situations. So, Jack, I won't back down."
Valenti paused, then said, "Simon, you shouldn't be telling me this."
"You're the MPAA chairman. It's your duty to lobby for legislation beneficial to Hollywood and to make the major studios understand their position. Besides, the old guard values face. Saying this directly might embarrass them too much or make them lash out. So, all things considered, I'm actually a very considerate junior."
"A very aggressive and respectful junior," Valenti said with a wry twist of his mouth. "Simon, haven't you noticed I'm an old man too?"
Simon shrugged. "Unfortunately, Jack, it's your job."
A few half-joking exchanges eased the tension that had built up. As lunch arrived, Simon deliberately shifted to lighter topics. Yet Valenti felt no relief inside.
Lunch ended, and Valenti walked out of the restaurant with Simon.
Watching the young man in his rearview mirror standing at the entrance seeing him off, Valenti turned a corner and immediately picked up the car phone. Dialing a number, he glanced at the folder on the passenger seat and said gravely, "Lew, we need to talk seriously. I'm on my way to you now."
Simon waited until Valenti's sedan disappeared, then instead of getting into his own car parked nearby, he began walking south along the street outside the restaurant, mentally reviewing recent events.
His words over lunch had been no bluff.
If Scream still failed to receive its proper rating, Simon would not hesitate to ignite a storm and show Hollywood exactly what Daenerys Entertainment was capable of.
As for the outcome he would act first and see.
Lost in thought, he reached the end of the street, where a low freeway overpass crossed his path: the 101, cutting through Burbank.
Looking at the bridge, Simon suddenly recalled his first trip to Los Angeles after rebirth. He had boarded a bus in Watsonville and entered Burbank along this very freeway, only to underestimate the city's lack of public transit and end up spending the night in the Valley.
Two years later, it felt like a lifetime ago. Los Angeles public transportation had not improved, but he was no longer that penniless young man.
The first two women he had met had somehow become the closest people in his life.
Spotting a public phone booth on the corner, Simon suddenly wanted to call Janet or Katherine.
Approaching it, he realized he had no coins only crisp hundred-dollar bills in his wallet. He had paid for lunch, but even the tip had been charged to his card. He could not remember the last time he had used cash for anything.
Janet took such meticulous care of his life that Simon had long ago noticed her subtle scheme to make him increasingly dependent on her. In two lifetimes, he would never allow himself to become truly helpless, yet he rarely bothered with daily minutiae anymore.
Neil Bennett, who had been driving slowly behind him, noticed and pulled over, puzzled as to why his boss chose a payphone over the car phone. Seeing Simon check his wallet, Neil got out and offered a handful of coins.
Janet, whom he had spoken to yesterday, was currently staying at the Cannes mansion after touring Europe.
She had personally inspected all the properties Sophia had selected and was now handling the financing.
Sixteen luxury homes in total. Though Simon planned to buy them all, he had no intention of paying cash he did not have the liquidity at the moment.
With his current net worth, however, banks in both North America and Europe were eager to lend. The loans were exceptionally secure; his multibillion-dollar fortune guaranteed repayment.
Even in the worst case, the properties themselves could serve as collateral.
He knew the Cannes number by heart, but the payphone could not make international calls. Dropping the coins in, he dialed Katherine's New York apartment instead.
After that chaotic night, Katherine had remained in New York, citing work on Blue Thunder Angels. Simon sensed she felt unsettled by the dynamics among the three of them and was deliberately keeping distance.
It was afternoon in New York working hours. He was not sure she would be home.
Blue Thunder Angels was essentially finished, but Simon knew Katherine's life was far from dull. New York remained the hub of American independent film, and she fit well in that circle. Recently, while completing post-production, she had taken on producer duties for another indie project.
Not expecting an answer, he was surprised when the call connected.
"Katherine, it's me." Hearing her voice, Simon leaned against the phone booth glass, watching traffic pass. "Nothing important I'm in Burbank and just felt like calling. What are you doing home at this hour… Oh… Janet's back mid-next month, so how about coming to Los Angeles… I'm standing on the street, of course there's traffic noise. I didn't know you deflected too… Hey, why can't I stand on the street… Really nothing just had lunch with Jack Valenti and felt like a walk to digest… No one's staring; it's quiet here. I'm almost disappointed. Maybe I should go to Rodeo Drive… Since you don't want to come back, how about I fly over tomorrow night secretly? Yeah, it's decided… Fine, fine, I'll find another time… All right, a kiss then… They don't know who you're kissing… Or take the phone to the bathroom… Okay, bye."