Chapter 26: First Victory.
By late July, The Sixth Sense was gradually coming down from theaters across the country. When people saw the final number, many realized the North American box-office champion for the year had already been decided.
In his Burbank office, Harvey Weinstein stared at the latest report. Even with the air-conditioning blasting, sweat kept rolling down his face.
He had simply believed in one clever, strange little boy and the story the kid had written. A twenty-million-dollar investment had turned into two hundred and ninety million dollars at the North American box office. And that was only North America. With Eastern Europe now open, overseas earnings were already on track to surpass the domestic total. What kind of final number would this film reach?
Even after giving the theaters more than fifty percent of the gross and letting the taxman take a huge bite, the pure profit still topped seventy million dollars. That was more than most of the major studios made in an entire year.
More importantly, the movie had established Miramax as a real player in Hollywood. Independent producers were now lining up at their door looking for funding.
Harvey wiped the sweat from his forehead and took out the two checks he had prepared earlier. A bitter smile crossed his face.
According to Hollywood custom, when a film became a hit the producers handed out bonus envelopes. The amount depended on each person's role.
When he remembered the bonuses he had already paid to that sister-and-brother pair and looked at the numbers on these checks, his heart ached. Who could have guessed that the seemingly childish profit-sharing clause he had signed to save money would actually come true?
Still, the boy was a gold mine. The eight million dollars he and Nicole had spent on him so far now felt like a very smart early investment. Harvey had already heard that Touchstone Pictures under Disney was talking to Ryan's agent, and that Nicole Kidman held another script the kid had written.
Even though Ryan had only one produced screenplay to his name, Harvey trusted his own eye. Just as he had known The Sixth Sense would succeed, he was certain this was no fluke. If possible, he would have bought the film rights to every story Ryan had ever written. They were like the Lord of the Rings rights he had recently acquired—bound to be worth a fortune in the near future.
He also knew it was almost impossible. Between the boy's elegant, sharp-minded guardian and his fox-like agent, and the ten-year-old himself—who had already outmaneuvered him in conversation more than once—there was no easy way in.
Sometimes Harvey even wondered if the kid had dug the first pit the day they met and simply waited for him to fall in.
Of course, he had zero regrets. The profits were real.
Word was that Touchstone had already reached a preliminary agreement with Ryan. Harvey needed to move fast—he couldn't let the other script in Nicole's hands slip away too.
"Mr. Weinstein, Ms. Kingsley, Miss Nicole Kidman, and Mr. Ryan Jenkins are here," his secretary announced.
"Send them in."
Ryan followed Nicole into the office and looked around. The décor was simple, exactly as the rumors said. The Weinstein brothers were stingy with everyone—including themselves.
They were all familiar by now, so there was no need for small talk. After quick greetings and coffee and juice from the secretary, they got straight to business.
"Congratulations, Harvey," Ryan said once the adults had finished their opening remarks. He smiled. "Two hundred and ninety million at the North American box office—that has to rank pretty high in film history. Too bad the run is ending. If it had stayed in theaters a little longer, it might have cracked three hundred million."
"Congratulations to you too, Ryan." Harvey slid two one-million-dollar checks across the desk to Nicole. "Jurassic Park is still number one on the national bestseller list, and both Harry Potter books are in the top twenty. No one your age has ever done that—not even Stephen King."
"Come on, Harvey. You know it's only because they're all-ages books. Haven't you read the reviews? The critics say if it weren't for noisy kids these books wouldn't sell at all."
Ryan grinned, snatched the checks from Nicole's hand, and glanced at the numbers. Nothing felt quite as satisfying as a stack of fresh green bills.
With Nicole's nod, he passed the checks to Pat Kingsley and said proudly, "See, Pat? Told you."
Pat could only roll her eyes. She really hadn't expected the old contract to increase her earnings—in fact, ten percent of those two checks now belonged to her.
After a little more casual talk, Ryan excused himself and let Harvey's assistant show him around the company. He knew Nicole and the others were about to discuss Sleepless in Seattle, and he preferred to stay out of it.
He had no intention of repeating Tom Cruise's mistake from his previous life—interfering too much in Nicole's career and causing friction between them.
In the end, no one knew exactly what terms Harvey offered, but Nicole agreed to let Miramax produce the film. From the satisfied look on her face, the deal was clearly a good one.
"Four million dollars upfront plus one-point-five percent of the North American box office," Pat told him once they were back in the car. "And Harvey offered ten thousand for your screenplay."
Ryan shrugged. Ten thousand wasn't bad for a writer with only one hit so far. He was confident that once his next few scripts proved themselves, he could start demanding a percentage of the gross—or even merchandising.
The negotiations with Touchstone had wrapped up once The Sixth Sense crossed two hundred and fifty million. Pat Kingsley really was as sharp as her reputation suggested. She had secured Ryan three million dollars for acting plus two percent of the North American box office—combined pay for both roles.
Production on Home Alone was already in the prep stage and would likely start shooting at the beginning of next month in northern Canada. When Ryan heard the location he breathed a sigh of relief. Shooting Christmas snow scenes on a soundstage was possible, but wearing thick winter clothes under studio lights would have been miserable.
The schedule wasn't complicated. Chris Columbus had promised that if Ryan performed at even half the level he had shown in The Sixth Sense, they could finish all the Canadian exteriors in under a month.
Thankfully summer vacation was still long; otherwise asking the school for another long leave would have been a headache.
The car didn't head back to West Hollywood. Instead it drove straight into Beverly Hills.
They had an appointment that afternoon with a real-estate agent to look at several private villas.
The monstrous box office of The Sixth Sense had brought the media's attention back to Ryan in full force. The paparazzi camped outside their building were growing bolder every day, disturbing not only them but the neighbors as well. Nicole had finally asked Pat to start looking for a new house.
There were many upscale neighborhoods in greater Los Angeles—Malibu, Santa Monica, Brentwood—but for some reason Nicole had her heart set on Beverly Hills. The villa had to be there, she said.
Well, Beverly Hills isn't bad, Ryan told himself after viewing a few properties. Close to Hollywood and full of other stars.
"What do you think of this one, Miss Kidman?"
The agent, Kenneth Miller, was smooth and professional—the kind who only worked with the wealthy. "This French-style villa sits on 2.4 acres including the garden. It has an outdoor tennis court, a swimming pool, and a four-car garage. It was designed by the famous architect Paul Corinne."
In his previous life Ryan had lived in a rented thirty-square-meter apartment. In this life he had spent most of his time in an orphanage and had never worried about housing after Nicole adopted him. He knew nothing about buying property, so he simply held Nicole's hand and stayed quiet while she looked.
The agent continued as they walked through the empty house. "Two stories, seven bedrooms, three walk-in closets, five large storage rooms, an indoor pool, a gym, and a small rooftop terrace."
After touring the entire place, Ryan could see it was much larger than their London home. The design had real character. Even without furniture it felt spacious, and he could tell Nicole was pleased.
"Ryan, what do you think?" she asked, turning to him. He knew that if he shook his head she would walk out without another word.
"Is this place even in our budget?" Ryan asked. In his previous life he had lived in one of the world's most expensive cities; he had no idea what American real estate cost. A villa this grand made him nervous.
"Sweetheart, you should be asking whether I have enough money," Nicole said with a laugh.
"Fine. It's nice. As long as the price is reasonable, I like it."
Later, while Nicole spoke with the agent, Ryan finally understood: compared to their combined income, the villa really wasn't expensive. They could even take out a loan, and unlike in many countries, land and houses in America had no expiration date.
Yes, there were annual property taxes, but it was still far better than a seventy-year lease.
"Nicole, when are we moving?" Ryan asked on the way out.
"Moving?" Nicole shook her head and smiled. "It'll be a while. The house needs renovation, and we still have to buy furniture."