Chapter 237: Hard Not to Admire
This season, the NBA salary cap stood at $15 million. The remaining years on Magic Johnson's contract still occupied a portion of the Los Angeles Lakers' cap space.
Even so, Aaron assumed Jerry Buss had contingency plans. Buss had never been careless with money or strategy.
After chatting for a while, Aaron finally met the man of the hour — Sumner Redstone. Acquiring Paramount Communications at the age of seventy was no small feat. Aaron couldn't help but admire him.
Redstone's family company, National Amusements, had started as a chain of movie theaters. In 1986, he swallowed Viacom, transforming himself into a true media titan. Now, with Paramount under his control, he had cemented his place among Hollywood's elite.
"Aaron."
A familiar voice interrupted his thoughts. It was Michael Ovitz.
"Mr. Ovitz, good evening."
Ovitz gave a small nod. "I hear you're trying to acquire Samuel Goldwyn."
Aaron didn't bother denying it.
"Yes. After acquiring AMC, Dawnlight needs stronger library resources. And our expanding distribution network also requires a deeper catalog to sustain long-term growth."
It was a straightforward business strategy — nothing secretive about it.
Ovitz looked almost wistful. Watching a former subordinate rise so spectacularly only reinforced his own desire to run a studio one day. Agencies like CAA and ICM were massive powerhouses, but antitrust laws kept them from directly engaging in production. Something always felt missing.
"Leaving CAA," Ovitz said slowly, "was the right move for you."
"CAA's still the top agency in Hollywood," Aaron replied with a smile. Ovitz himself had topped Premiere magazine's power list for three consecutive years.
Ovitz waved it off. "CAA's annual profit doesn't match what you make from a single hit film."
That was high praise.
---
Aaron later led Monica Bellucci out onto the balcony for some fresh air.
"The test screenings for Philadelphia have been very positive," she said. "I read the P2 script. The locations aren't complicated — it should be a quick shoot, right?"
Aaron lit a cigarette and nodded.
"Very simple. We'll film it directly in the underground garage beneath the Dawnlight building. Limited sets, limited cast. You're the visual focus."
P2 was designed as a low-budget thriller — dark spaces, tension, pursuit, a predator and prey dynamic. Suspense, shadows, and a striking female lead — classic genre ingredients.
Monica smiled softly. "I've spent a lot of time this year improving my English and attending acting workshops. I should be able to meet the director's expectations."
"You will," Aaron said calmly.
Meanwhile, Viacom's financial maneuvering had stunned Wall Street. After first acquiring Blockbuster for $8.7 billion, the company had borrowed heavily to complete its takeover of Paramount.
The scale of the gamble was enormous.
But in Hollywood, boldness often separated the legends from the footnotes.
And whether it was Redstone's empire-building… or Aaron's own calculated expansion into television and film libraries…
The next phase of the industry had clearly begun.
As a result of the back-to-back acquisitions, Viacom was now carrying a sharply increased debt load. After swallowing Blockbuster and then completing the massive takeover of Paramount Communications, Sumner Redstone's next task was obvious: divest certain assets to reduce leverage and stabilize the balance sheet.
As the first major media mogul to loudly champion the idea that "content is king," Sumner Redstone's emphasis on Paramount was unmistakable.
Later that evening, before an audience of more than 300 guests, Redstone delivered a rousing speech:
"My goal is to be number one.
I want everything I do to be first. I'm not saying I can always achieve it, nor that I deserve it. I'm simply saying — I like being first."
With Viacom's acquisition complete, among Hollywood's seven major studios only The Walt Disney Company and Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer remained relatively independent.
Disney, of course, was a vertically integrated powerhouse — its own children's cable network, record label, theme parks, live-action and animation studios, and a global distribution network. MGM, by contrast, was barely holding on. It had nearly been dismantled by Crédit Lyonnais and was surviving more out of legacy than strength.
---
Inside the Lounge
In a quieter corner of the hotel, Redstone asked Sherry Lansing, chairman of Paramount Pictures, about Dawnlight.
"Dawnlight?" Lansing began thoughtfully. "Its founder, Aaron Anderson, is known as Hollywood's golden boy. He started as an agent at CAA."
"He discovered young directors like Steven Soderbergh and David Fincher, building his name in the independent film scene. After founding Dawnlight, he backed John Singleton and produced the breakout hit Ghost."
She paused, then added:
"His masterstroke was acquiring The Silence of the Lambs from Orion. That move alone won him an Oscar."
Lansing genuinely admired Aaron's instincts. Paramount had later purchased The Addams Family from Orion and found success with it. But, as she had heard from ICM's Nancy Josephson, Aaron had originally wanted both projects — he simply lacked the funds and chose the cheaper Silence of the Lambs instead.
Redstone smiled faintly.
"I've heard the reputation. Aaron Anderson's eye for film is unmatched. Dawnlight's growth in just four years speaks for itself."
Then he asked the inevitable question:
"Is it possible to acquire Dawnlight?"
Lansing had expected that.
She shook her head. "Disney, Fox, Sony — they've all shown interest. But Aaron Anderson has absolutely no intention of selling."
Redstone nodded. He had indeed considered it. But having just absorbed Paramount, he hardly had the bandwidth to pursue another major acquisition.
Viacom's immediate priority was integrating Paramount's content library. Viacom possessed formidable distribution power — what it needed now was premium content, and Paramount provided exactly that.
At seventy, Redstone was no longer interested in the day-to-day grind of film production. That responsibility rested with Lansing. His focus was strategic: the fusion of cable television platforms with top-tier film content.
As one of the only female heads of a major Hollywood studio, Sherry Lansing was known for her cautious approach. She favored co-financing projects with other studios to spread risk — an unusual stance in an industry where the "Big Six" rarely collaborated.
It wasn't glamorous.
But it was steady.
And in an industry built on volatility, steadiness had its own power.