With the presidential election settled, the media and the public quickly turned their attention elsewhere. In Hollywood, however, Daenerys Entertainment remained the unrelenting focus.
On November 10, Basic Instinct concluded its seventeenth week in North American theaters with a final domestic total of $117.12 million.
In its second week, Scream dropped a mere 19 percent, adding $18.35 million over seven days for a cumulative $39.06 million. In just those two weeks, under the tiered revenue-sharing agreements with exhibitors, Daenerys had already recouped the entire production budget and turned a profit.
Steel Magnolias continued to draw notice in limited release. Across twenty-two screens, it averaged more than $68,000 per screen for the week. In its first seven days, the stage-play adaptation that few had expected to succeed earned $1.51 million.
The week before Thanksgiving, the year-end corridor finally began to stir.
On November 11, counting a handful of other limited releases, seven new films opened in North America.
Yet from November 11 to 17, even with a slightly larger drop of 23 percent from its opening frame, Scream held firmly to the top spot, adding another $13.96 million. After three weeks, its total stood at $53.02 million.
The film immediately behind it on the chart surprised many: MGM/UA's horror entry Child's Play, which opened to $9.61 million.
Thanksgiving—a season traditionally filled with family-friendly fare—was being dominated by the two highest-grossing films in the marketplace, both horror. That was anything but normal.
And indeed it was not.
Ordinarily, only a niche player like New Line, which specialized in horror, would eagerly slot its genre titles into the most lucrative holidays—because it had little choice. The majors clearly had few options of their own at the moment, the lingering consequence of the writers' strike.
Simon recalled that, excluding Daenerys, none of the major studios' Thanksgiving releases would crack the year's top ten. December offered only two: Universal's Twins starring Arnold Schwarzenegger and Paramount's The Naked Gun. Neither was scheduled for the prime Christmas corridor. Twins opened December 9; The Naked Gun, December 2.
Neither studio had anticipated those films becoming sleepers.
For Simon, the scheduling carried another implication: on the key weekend dates of December 16 and 23, Rain Man and Dead Poets Society would face no serious competition from outside the company.
Back to the present chart: after Scream and Child's Play, the film generating the most discussion remained Steel Magnolias.
In its second week of limited release, the screen count rose to thirty-five. Per-screen average dipped only slightly from $68,000 to $66,000, yet the film still pulled in $2.35 million over seven days.
After just two weeks, Steel Magnolias had already accumulated $3.86 million—nearly matching the entire domestic run of Warner Bros.' recent flop Police Academy 5.
On November 17, Pulp Fiction ended its remarkable twenty-three-week run with a final North American total of $156.93 million, temporarily claiming the top spot on the 1988 chart.
Close behind was Disney's Who Framed Roger Rabbit, now tapering to two or three hundred thousand per weekend and nearing the end of its run, at $151.36 million as of November 18.
Unless Disney deliberately bought tickets to claim the crown, an unlikely but not impossible move. Roger Rabbit had little chance of overtaking Pulp Fiction in its final weeks.
A year-end champion carried significant value for ancillary markets. With Pulp Fiction's number now fixed, one could not entirely rule out Disney making the attempt.
Simon watched with detached amusement. Pulp Fiction was technically an Orion project; his real hopes rested on Rain Man.
As Pulp Fiction exited, Hollywood was forcibly reminded that, although none of the three billion-dollar-grossing films Pulp Fiction, When Harry Met Sally, and Basic Instinct—had been distributed by Daenerys itself, no one could deny they were Daenerys productions, Simon Westeros projects.
All three had crossed one hundred million domestically, landing in the year's top ten, and together accounted for $380 million, more than most studios earned in an entire year.
With Scream and Steel Magnolias now succeeding, Hollywood finally felt the aggressive pressure of Daenerys Entertainment's rise.
The majors, however reluctantly, had to confront a reality.
As Simon had once instructed Jack Valenti to convey, Daenerys Entertainment, in just two years, had undeniably become a true player in Hollywood.
The traditional tools for containing upstarts, choking funding, restricting distribution, or resorting to lawsuits and smear campaigns no longer posed much threat.
Simon Westeros's multibillion-dollar personal fortune, ranked third in America, ensured Daenerys would never lack capital. And with a string of blockbusters driving theater owners' interest, exhibitors had no intention of siding with the majors to limit Daenerys screens; they were eager to partner.
Underhanded tactics might cripple small independents or struggling outfits, but aimed at Daenerys they risked fierce retaliation.
Yet there always seemed to be an opening.
While the industry fretted over Daenerys's ascent, word that Paramount was in talks with Scream director Wes Craven for his next project jolted many awake.
Of course.
If direct confrontation was impossible, poaching talent was something anyone could do.
Even if Scream remained a Simon Westeros film, with Steel Magnolias showing clear sleeper potential, few now doubted his eye for material.
From here on, any script or project Daenerys showed interest in was fair game.
Buoyed by strong word-of-mouth from limited release, Steel Magnolias expanded wide on November 18, rising from the originally contracted 922 screens to 1,135.
Emboldened by Scream's success, the distribution team grew bolder still in marketing. In the week before wide release, the film even ran ads on ABC's hit quiz show Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?
Though consistently outrated by Survivor, Millionaire remained the reality program most appealing to all age groups—a perfect match for Steel Magnolias' family positioning.
As one of the priciest ad buys on television, not even Scream had advertised there. With the winter hiatus approaching, Rain Man and Dead Poets Society would have no such opportunity.
Three episodes per week, two thirty-second spots each—Daenerys spent $1.5 million on those placements alone.
From November 18 to 24, Thanksgiving week—Steel Magnolias, unsurprisingly yet gratifyingly, displaced Scream to claim the top spot.
Its seven-day opening haul came to $12.81 million.
On the surface, $12.81 million seemed far short of Scream's $20.71 million in the comparable frame. But per-screen: Steel Magnolias averaged $11,286 across 1,135 screens; Scream had averaged $11,232 on 1,755.
Steel Magnolias, in fact, outperformed Scream on a per-screen basis.
Some outlets seized on the lower gross to label it a disappointment and predict the end of Daenerys's billion-dollar streak. Those with clearer vision recognized another major success.
An opening per-screen above $11,000 and a seven-day total of $12.81 million—if that was failure, Hollywood had few successes.
The following weekend delivered a decisive rebuke to the naysayers.
November 25–27, Thanksgiving weekend proper.
Steel Magnolias dropped a mere 5 percent from its opening frame, earning another $7.86 million over the three-day period for a cumulative $23.53 million. A 5 percent decline effectively meant the film held flat week-to-week, mirroring the legs of Tom Hanks's summer sleeper Big.
Released the same day as Pulp Fiction, Big had already concluded its run at $114 million—fifth on the year behind Pulp Fiction ($156 million), Who Framed Roger Rabbit ($151 million), Coming to America ($128 million), and Basic Instinct ($117 million).
If Big could reach nine figures, Steel Magnolias—bridging the favorable Thanksgiving and Christmas corridors—had every reason to do the same.
Malibu.
November 29, Tuesday.
Simon had not gone to the office that morning; he had a full schedule of property transfers and bank loan documents to sign.
After Janet's trip to Europe and subsequent arrangements, the purchases of residences in major European cities were finalized.
Following several rounds of discussions, Crédit Lyonnais agreed to finance the acquisitions. Factoring in future renovation and maintenance, Simon borrowed a round $200 million in one tranche.
Eager to cultivate future business, the bank offered highly favorable terms: five years at 4.3 percent interest.
The paperwork consumed the entire morning. Mindful of the bank's goodwill, Simon hosted a luncheon for the representatives.
At two o'clock, after the meal, he met with James Rebould, who had flown in from New York to discuss Westeros Company matters. Once James departed, the house finally quieted.
After a long, refreshing shower and a change of clothes, Simon emerged to find Janet and Sophia Fache curled on the living-room sofa, deep in discussion about renovating the European properties. He sighed inwardly. Janet had kept Sophia again.
Tying his own tie, he said, "Take your time. I'm heading to the office. Meetings at four."
Janet rose with a bright smile, took over the tie, then slipped her arm through his as they walked out together. "We bought so many houses at once. When do we go stay in them?"
"Next year," Simon said after a moment. "One more busy year. Once Batman wraps and the company is fully stable, we'll take a proper break."
"Promise," Janet murmured, resting her head briefly against his shoulder.
"Of course," he said. "I never intended to be a workaholic forever. Life is for enjoying."
Janet gave a small, skeptical hum. "Plenty of workaholics say that and never stop."
Simon smiled. "That's why I have you. If I can't stop, you drag me."
"I told you long ago I won't hold you back," Janet said firmly, nodding to herself as they reached the car. "Never."
Neil Bennett held the door. Simon kissed her forehead. "You drag when it's time to drag."
With laughter and goodbyes, he climbed in and headed for the Santa Monica headquarters.
Time was short that afternoon. He had scheduled meetings with several candidates for Wonder Woman.
Over recent weeks, the major agencies had sent multiple rounds of contenders for both Superman and Wonder Woman. He was still weighing Clark Kent, but several actresses had caught his eye for the Amazon princess.