Chapter 240 – A Library of Thousands of Films
"Where did you go? That took forever."
Sophie Marceau raised an eyebrow when Aaron returned from the restroom after more than half an hour.
"Nothing much. Ran into someone I knew and chatted for a bit," Aaron replied casually, sinking back onto the sofa and patting the seat beside him.
He had already made up his mind: when Dawnlight moved forward with Se7en, he would find a suitable role for Gwyneth Paltrow. He believed in returning favors appropriately.
"A woman, I assume?" Sophie asked lightly.
Aaron chuckled. "You know that independent studio that's been aggressively buying films at Cannes and Venice these past few years—Miramax Films?"
"Of course. The Weinstein brothers," Sophie nodded. "You even warned me to be careful working with them."
"Right. Miramax was acquired by The Walt Disney Company this year. With Disney's backing, they'll probably ramp up their distribution slate."
For Aaron, the strategy was simple—focus only on the standout independent titles. The rest of the niche releases rarely generated meaningful profits.
"Still not as strong as Dawnlight," Sophie said, leaning back comfortably. "That French film Three Colors: Blue just opened in the U.S. The reviews are excellent. What do you think?"
"Highly artistic. Its performance will depend on how aggressively Miramax markets it," Aaron replied. "After all, it won the Golden Lion at Venice."
Even so, he felt it lacked the broader resonance of The Piano, the Palme d'Or winner at Cannes. And as a French-language film, its awards prospects in America would be limited—perhaps even trailing behind the Chinese-language Farewell My Concubine in the Best Foreign Language Film race.
"That said, Juliette Binoche was outstanding, as always."
Dawnlight had previously distributed her R-rated drama Damage, and her performance there had been electric.
Sophie sighed. "I shouldn't even bring up French arthouse films with you. You only care about commercial hits."
Aaron smiled. "What about Léon: The Professional? Luc Besson made it for Gaumont. That should interest you."
"And what could I do about it?" Aaron shrugged. "Besson has partnerships with Gaumont and Columbia Pictures."
He leaned in and kissed her softly, his hand resting along her thigh.
"I've seen Léon. It's good—artistically strong. But in Hollywood, its commercial ceiling may be limited. The emotional dynamic involving a minor will make mainstream audiences cautious."
Artistically, though, Aaron respected it. Besson had blended French romantic subtlety with Hollywood-style action in a way that felt both lyrical and accessible—retaining personality without succumbing to the glossy emptiness of formula blockbusters.
"We'll see how it performs after release," Sophie said knowingly. "Hollywood has never embraced French cinema the way we'd like."
From the French perspective, Hollywood felt overly commercial and conservative—an industry built on money and spectacle—while French cinema prided itself on boldness, individuality, and artistic risk.
Aaron simply smiled.
After all, whether it was arthouse prestige or blockbuster spectacle, what he truly valued was control—especially control over something far more powerful than a single film:
A library of thousands of titles.
As December arrived, awards-season contenders began rolling out one after another. Dawnlight's drama Philadelphia held its premiere at the Landmark ArcLight Theater before opening in limited release.
Los Angeles – Sunset Marquis Hotel, West Hollywood
At the premiere reception for Philadelphia, Aaron stood with director Jonathan Demme, discussing the upcoming prequel project Red Dragon.
"Besides Anthony Hopkins returning as Hannibal, have the other roles been settled?" Aaron asked.
He was referring to the two crucial characters: the FBI agent protagonist and the serial killer known as the "Tooth Fairy."
"For the killer," Demme replied, "I'm leaning toward Ralph Fiennes. His performance as the Nazi officer in Schindler's List was magnetic."
"As for the FBI agent, I'm considering Nicolas Cage."
Aaron thought it over. Fiennes as a chilling psychopath made perfect sense. As for Cage—while many of his recent films hadn't made major waves, his experience and acting chops were undeniable.
"That could work," Aaron nodded. "Cage's ability isn't in question."
He rose and clapped Demme on the shoulder. "Let's move quickly. Red Dragon needs to hit theaters in 1995."
Truthfully, Aaron was even more eager for author Thomas Harris to finish the next novel in the Hannibal series.
At that moment, producer Brad Grey approached after taking a call.
"Samuel Goldwyn Films has softened," Grey said. "They're willing to sell their film library for $140 million. Samuel Goldwyn Jr. will retain the Samuel Goldwyn brand."
"One hundred and forty million? No room to negotiate?" Aaron frowned slightly.
Grey shook his head. "That's their floor."
Aaron paused, then made his decision. "Do it. Their catalog includes quite a few strong titles."
He had already committed to expanding Dawnlight's library—there was no point hesitating now. Plans to build a new skyscraper in Manhattan would simply have to wait.
"I'll finalize the deal as soon as possible," Grey assured him.
Acquiring over a thousand film titles would significantly strengthen Dawnlight Home Entertainment and bolster its distribution network. Just as importantly, those titles would provide premium programming for AMC, boosting subscriptions and long-term revenue.
Aaron's thoughts drifted to another target—Orion Pictures—which also controlled a library of more than a thousand films. In the late 1980s, Orion had acquired the Filmways library, adding over 500 titles and solidifying its distribution infrastructure.
"So Samuel Goldwyn Jr. is keeping the brand name," Aaron mused. "Planning to operate independently?"
Grey nodded. "We don't know the exact plan yet, but if he's preserving the name, he clearly has intentions. He won't let the Samuel Goldwyn banner disappear."
Aaron gave a faint smile.
In Hollywood, brands could fade. But libraries—libraries endured.