Chapter 298
In Los Angeles, a landmark theater on Melrose Avenue was screening The Shawshank Redemption.
At one point, the film's director Frank Darabont and producer Niki Marvin actually stepped outside onto the street to personally attract moviegoers.
"Frank, our movie is excellent," Niki Marvin comforted him gently. "A lot of critics have praised it. It's just that the subject matter lacks mainstream commercial appeal."
As Darabont's very first feature film, The Shawshank Redemption had already placed enormous pressure on him during production.
Now that it had finally been released, the painfully low attendance rates only weighed on him even more.
After hearing his friend's reassurance, Frank Darabont simply smiled.
"To be honest, I understand it too. The Shawshank Redemption is a prison drama. There's no glamorous romance, no flashy action scenes, no commercial spectacle."
"The prison setting is monotonous, the pacing is deliberately slow, and there aren't any major box-office stars attached. I expected the response to be difficult."
What he hadn't expected, however, was just how empty the theaters would be.
"Give it time," Niki sighed. "Once word of mouth spreads, Columbia Pictures will probably expand the release."
Films like The Shawshank Redemption simply didn't have obvious marketing hooks. Columbia hadn't invested heavily in promotion either.
The release scale was modest, and although critics admired the film, the weak turnout was still discouraging.
Meanwhile, in Santa Monica, night had fully settled in.
A cool ocean breeze drifted through a beachfront villa in Pacific Palisades.
Lying in bed, Aaron let out a muffled breath before exhaling deeply.
A little while later, the breathless Nicole Kidman rested against his chest.
"Darling," she murmured softly, "you're still as incredible as ever."
Then she lifted her head slightly.
"By the way, you seemed unusually interested in The Shawshank Redemption tonight."
Aaron smiled faintly as his hand traced across her smooth skin.
"It's a good film," he said. "A slow-burning prison drama, but exceptionally well made."
"It's about a banker who's wrongly imprisoned and spends nineteen years digging a tunnel to escape from Shawshank Prison."
"The Shawshank Redemption is ultimately a story about humanity itself. Shawshank Prison is portrayed as a cold, ruthless, almost colorless place—yet the protagonist becomes the one bright light within it."
"Through its exploration of redemption, freedom, and hope, the film captures something deeply human."
"Mmm…" Nicole nestled closer against him. "Sounds like you think very highly of it."
"Do you think it'll become a serious Oscar rival to Forrest Gump?"
Aaron chuckled softly.
"Hard to say. Forrest Gump is pure American sentimentality—almost a national anthem in film form. Just like Schindler's List before it."
"I'm not worried at all about Forrest Gump struggling at the Oscars."
There was no helping it—Aaron was simply that confident.
Forrest Gump had too many advantages behind it. Its emotional resonance, cultural impact, and overwhelming popularity were on an entirely different level.
"Aaron," Nicole Kidman said as she lifted her head and rested her chin in her hand, gazing at him curiously, "it feels like The Shawshank Redemption really hasn't caused much of a stir after release."
She was genuinely puzzled.
Aaron Anderson's instincts had already been proven time and time again. His eye for projects was almost frighteningly accurate. If he thought highly of The Shawshank Redemption, then why was the film performing so quietly?
"Probably just a matter of time," Aaron replied softly, brushing a hand through her golden hair.
"When you get the chance, go watch it yourself. It's the kind of movie that needs to be slowly absorbed."
The box-office disappointment of The Shawshank Redemption had many causes.
Its title wasn't commercially appealing.
There were no action sequences or crowd-pleasing spectacle.
The prison-drama subject matter lacked mainstream appeal.
And the cast, while talented, didn't possess major box-office drawing power.
Yet despite its weak commercial performance, the film had received extraordinary praise from professionals across the industry.
Chicago Tribune wrote:
"The Shawshank Redemption is more than just a film—it feels like a cleansing of the soul. While it contains entertainment elements, most of the movie quietly reflects on the philosophy of life."
Meanwhile, The New York Times praised it as:
"A compelling and deeply humane film, carrying just enough darkness around its edges to give contrast and balance to its faith in human goodness."
The following day, the news of Jeffrey Katzenberg, Steven Spielberg, and David Geffen officially founding DreamWorks SKG exploded across Hollywood.
And the ambitions of the three industry giants clearly extended far beyond just film production.
Alongside DreamWorks Pictures and DreamWorks Animation, they had also established DreamWorks Television, DreamWorks Records, DreamWorks Interactive, and several additional divisions.
DreamWorks wasn't aiming to become a simple studio.
They were building an entire entertainment empire.
That morning, Nicole sat in Aaron's lap with a newspaper in hand.
"Look at this," she said with a teasing smile. "Everyone's saying DreamWorks SKG is finally bringing Dawnlight its greatest competitor."
There was no denying it—Dawnlight had become the most successful new Hollywood studio of the 1990s.
Under Aaron Anderson's leadership, the company had bulldozed through the industry with one hit after another, its box-office numbers climbing higher every year. Even Hollywood's traditional six major studios had struggled to suppress Dawnlight's momentum.
The industry had even started circulating a phrase:
"Produced by Dawnlight—guaranteed quality."
Aaron merely shrugged.
"What's there to worry about? Right now, DreamWorks still has a long way to go before catching up to Dawnlight."
Jeffrey Katzenberg was obsessed with recreating Disney's success and building his own animation kingdom.
But that kind of achievement was far easier imagined than accomplished.
"Recruiting investors, building departments, gathering talent… DreamWorks has endless problems ahead of it," Aaron said, shaking his head.
Animated features were nothing like live-action productions.
A live-action film could assemble a crew relatively quickly. But animation required massive specialized teams, years of coordination, and enormous infrastructure.
Besides, David Geffen and Steven Spielberg were both famously shrewd businessmen.
When push came to shove, the first thing they would protect was their own personal interests.
"If DreamWorks runs into even a small internal crisis," Aaron said calmly, "the whole thing could collapse surprisingly fast."
As he spoke, his hand slipped beneath Nicole's silk nightgown, his fingers tracing softly along her skin.
Then he smiled.
"Don't forget—I'm still Hollywood's golden boy. Those three musketeers won't beat me so easily."
After all, Dawnlight's subsidiary Pixar was already preparing to release its first fully 3D computer-animated feature next year:
Toy Story.
Meanwhile, Katzenberg's first DreamWorks animated feature likely wouldn't even arrive for another three or four years.
"Mmm…"
Nicole wrapped her arms around him and kissed him lightly.
"What? Last night and this morning still weren't enough for you?"
Aaron rubbed his cheek against hers affectionately.
"It's been too long since I've seen a gorgeous woman like you."
"I finally have a few free days. Of course I want to spend more time with you."
Nicole smiled and gently stroked his chest.
"I'm guessing the moment you step outside, reporters are going to swarm you asking what you think about DreamWorks SKG…"
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