Inside Marvel Entertainment, the vibe was dead serious.
If *Blade*'s opening weekend haul of $15 million was a letdown, the second week's $6.8 million was a straight-up nosedive. For a movie with such a hefty budget and sky-high hopes from Marvel, raking in just $21.8 million after 10 days? That's tough to justify.
At this rate, it's not cracking $40 million in North America—ouch.
To be fair, *Blade*'s rep isn't bad. It's no stinker. But hitting theaters at the wrong time against the wrong rival? That sealed its fate.
Hollywood's a tricky beast—you can't just passion your way to the top.
Avi Arad and Ike Perlmutter, former toy company shareholders—not billionaires—poured everything they had into buying Marvel, dreaming of steering it to new heights. But this movie they fought so hard for? It's a total Waterloo-level flop.
Meanwhile, what's *My Big Fat Greek Wedding* pulling in North America?
$86.4 million!
And when you compare the budgets of the two films? It's enough to make you jealous enough to spit blood.
No doubt about it—Marvel's big gamble crashed and burned.
The fallout? Totally deserved.
Originally, Marvel only chipped in $5 million for *Blade*, with New Line Cinema covering the remaining $40 million. But after some twists and turns, Marvel took on debt to pump in an extra $15 million, bringing their total stake to $20 million.
They were betting Marvel's future on this!
The result? It's giving the old-timers flashbacks to a few years back when Marvel couldn't pay its debts and had to file for bankruptcy.
"We *have* to tackle this debt mess!" Avi Arad barked at the board meeting, his face like stone.
Dan Buckley, the distribution guy, smirked coldly. "How? I said it from the start—we're a comic book company. Movies? Not our game."
"Now's not the time to point fingers!" Avi slammed the table, fuming.
Dan, a Marvel vet, wasn't fazed by this outsider chairman—especially after such a colossal screw-up. "Year-end's coming fast. We're looking at a $30 million loss at least. I don't know how we fill that hole."
"Enough, Dan!" veteran comic artist Brian Bendis sighed. "If it comes to it, let's sell some hero rights again. That's how we survived before."
"No way!" Ike Perlmutter shot back. He bought Marvel to build it up, not to stumble down the same dead-end road. "Not a single superhero gets sold!"
"It's our only shot at staying alive," exec Alan Fine said helplessly. "Comic sales are tanking every year. We've got no profit left."
Stan Lee frowned, mulling it over. "Whatever we do, we've gotta get through this first. Marvel's not done yet. Columbia Pictures struck gold with *Men in Black*, so they're confident in our comics. Maybe… they'll throw us a big offer."
Dan shrugged. "*Men in Black*? Sure, it's our comic, but it's more sci-fi than superhero."
"Enough!" Ike's face darkened. "I said it—no superhero sales! Avi, what about you?"
Avi Arad stayed quiet.
Then it hit him—last year, Dunn Walker, riding high on *Titanic*'s monster success, tried to buy Marvel Entertainment. Marvel shut it down cold.
Now *Blade* got sniped by Dunn's *My Big Fat Greek Wedding*. Was it on purpose?
Avi didn't know, but he had a gut feeling—someone like Dunn Walker, young and full of fire, wouldn't give up that easily.
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Fast forward to September, and Dunn Films and Warner Bros. sat down for a big meeting.
Location? Dunn Films' conference room. Between the two sides, there were 20 or 30 people in the mix.
From Dunn Films: Dunn, Reese Witherspoon, George Paxton, Glenn Fiero, Andrew O'Hare—all the heavy hitters showed up.
Warner Bros. (the Warner subsidiary) brought their own big names, including top exec Alan Horn himself.
After some casual chit-chat, Dunn finally pieced together why *Harry Potter* landed on Warner's radar.
It all started with a British producer named David Heyman.
One day, his assistant grabbed a book from a store as a gift for their kid. After reading it, the assistant was hooked and passed it to David.
David, who'd worked with Warner plenty of times—and whose childhood buddy Lionel Wigram worked there—teamed up to pitch the book to Warner's brass, begging them to snag the rights.
Alan Horn heard about it and didn't hesitate—boom, rights secured!
He also reached out to DreamWorks, hoping they'd co-develop the *Harry Potter* series. For a massive franchise like this, only Steven Spielberg felt like a safe bet in all of Hollywood.
His *Jurassic Park* and *Indiana Jones* series? Cash cows, every one.
But DreamWorks said no thanks.
Meanwhile, the assistant Alan sent to lock down the rights got too aggressive, stirring up bad blood between Dunn Films and Warner Bros.
Dunn wasn't buying the whole story, but still—Warner showing up in person with a negotiation team led by a titan like Alan Horn? That's some serious sincerity.
Plus, Dunn clocked a few key names.
First up: Alan Horn. This guy's a legend. In his decade running Warner Bros., he nabbed the North American box office crown *seven times*!
His hits like the *Harry Potter* series, *The Dark Knight* trilogy, and *Inception*? Absolute classics.
He's a straight shooter who didn't kiss up to his Time Warner boss Jeff Bewkes, so he got pushed out—only to land at Disney in 2012 as studio chairman. Then? Disney took over Hollywood.
David Heyman's a no-brainer—top British producer with a natural edge on UK adaptation rights. *Harry Potter*, *Fantastic Beasts*—all him.
And his old pal Lionel Wigram, now at Warner? Another big deal. This dude sketches comics on the side, dreaming up wild ideas like a fighting Sherlock Holmes.
That turned into Warner's hit series with Robert Downey Jr.—*Sherlock Holmes*.
All three were at the table today.
Dunn's eyes lit up—partly from admiration, mostly from dollar signs.
"Alright, let's kick off the talks with a story," Dunn said.
This was Dunn Films—his turf. No way he'd hand over control. Time to throw some cold water first!
"Marvel Entertainment—you all know 'em, right? The last decade-plus has been rough for them. They're not DC, propped up by a giant."
Dunn tossed in a cheeky jab mid-story, earning chuckles from the room.
"Back in 1980, Marvel was drowning in debt and sold the *Fantastic Four* movie rights to a German outfit, Constantin Film. The deal? Constantin had 12 years to make a movie, or Marvel could snatch the rights back, no questions asked."
Dunn's tale seemed random, but everyone there—negotiators, producers—knew it tied to *Harry Potter*'s rights.
"By 1992, the clock was ticking. Constantin panicked. To hang onto *Fantastic Four*, they hired B-movie director Oley Sassone from Hollywood and rushed the project. The crew worked 20-hour days, and in just 25 days, the first *Fantastic Four* movie was born."
David Heyman, being British, scoffed at the German hustle. "Twenty-five days? Gotta be a total disaster!"
Dunn nodded. "Yup, it was—so bad it never even hit theaters. But so what? Constantin met the terms. To this day, they still own *Fantastic Four*."
Story over. Everyone got the point.
Right now, *Harry Potter*'s rights are Dunn's. Sure, there's a time limit in the contract, but if he plays it right, he could keep them forever!
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