New York, Time Warner Group headquarters in Midtown Manhattan.
The date was December 16.
Inside the conference room, the board of Time Warner Group, core executives, and major shareholders were gathered; their argument had already lasted an entire afternoon.
When Terry Semel objected to Gerald Levin's demand to take over Time Warner Group immediately, Levin turned his spearhead on Semel.
"Regarding DC, Terry, this is absolutely the biggest mistake the film division ever made. We could have owned the entire DC Cinematic Universe. Because of your personal stupidity, the rights to Superman, Batman, and Wonder Woman are now in Daenerys Entertainment's hands, and we don't even have the initiative to co-produce."
Terry Semel, chairman and CEO of Warner Bros. Pictures, has no direct authority over DC Comics.
Strictly speaking, sharing the DC Cinematic Universe with Daenerys Entertainment—aside from Superman, which had already been bought out by them at a high price—was personally approved by Ross, the group's voice. Yet at this juncture Semel couldn't shift blame onto Steve Ross; so, undermining Ross's protege now would only weaken the chance that Ross's loyal executives could take control of Time Warner, which while seems good in short term is not good for long term.
"Jerry, I completely disagree. DC has existed for more than half a century; if building the DC Cinematic Universe were so easy, why did no one come up with the idea for decades? Therefore, cooperating with Daenerys Entertainment on the DC Cinematic Universe is one of the smartest decisions our film division has ever made, not a mistake. In recent years the DC Cinematic Universe has contributed nearly half of Warner's movie profits."
Gerald Levin refused to yield, staring at Terry Semel. "But we could have gotten more, couldn't we?"
Terry Semel met Levin's gaze, expression cold. "If you're going to argue irrationally, I've got nothing to say."
"Whether I'm arguing irrationally, everyone here knows," Gerald Levin said, looking around before turning back to Semel. "Losing the rights to Superman, Batman, and Wonder Woman might be forgivable—but what did you do next? If I recall, the original plan was two DC films a year. Now? Whatever Simon Westeros says, you do. To please Daenerys Entertainment you even deliberately suppress development of other superhero films. If I ran the film division, I'd never allow that. After the DC Cinematic Universe succeeded, Green Lantern, Aquaman, Shazam, Martian Manhunter—these projects could all have started prep, and their rights are entirely ours. Yet you did nothing."
After Levin's words, many in the room couldn't help nodding in agreement.
Simon had re-adjusted the DC Cinematic Universe pace, slowing the original two-films-per-year to three every two years—or even one a year—sparking discontent among many Time Warner executives; even Steve Ross hadn't fully agreed at the time.
But because Daenerys Entertainment held too much initiative in the DC Cinematic Universe—and because of Simon's own strength—the decision was finalized.
Now Gerald Levin suddenly brought up the old issue, mentioning a slew of other DC projects whose rights were wholly owned by Time Warner yet remained undeveloped, instantly resonating with the top brass again.
Noticing the expressions around him, Terry Semel had a thought and said to Gerald Levin, "You should know that over-exploiting IP only makes audiences tire of it quickly, Jerry. Besides, the DC Cinematic Universe plan involves our contract with Daenerys Entertainment; I don't think Simon Westeros will back down just because of a few words from you."
"Four of the five released superhero films have their distribution rights in our hands," Levin replied, having clearly thought it through. "If Daenerys Entertainment doesn't want these projects dumped into dead zones, if they want timely revenue splits, they'll have to concede."
Major studios delaying indie companies' box-office payouts—like inflating distribution costs—is a long-standing Hollywood convention, often used as a 'weapon' by the giants to suppress rivals.
Of the five superhero film series in the DC Cinematic Universe—Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, The Flash, and Cyborg—only Wonder Woman is distributed by Daenerys Entertainment; Warner Bros. Pictures handles the rest.
If Warner wanted to squeeze Daenerys Entertainment, they could assign trash release dates, cook the books Hollywood-style, or delay revenue payouts.
But would that really make Simon Westeros compromise?
Terry Semel immediately recalled *The Bodyguard* soundtrack incident two years earlier.
When Arista Records, distributor of *The Bodyguard* soundtrack, tried to swallow its revenue, Daenerys Entertainment simply pulled the album—ignoring the huge potential loss from yanking a release that could have sold tens of millions.
The DC Cinematic Universe involves far greater interests than *The Bodyguard*'s soundtrack, yet based on Semel's knowledge of Simon, he felt that if Warner dared to play games with the DC Cinematic Universe, they would likely face Daenerys Entertainment's toughest counterattack.
Semel had just now guided Gerald Levin into voicing those very words.
With his goal achieved, he couldn't be bothered to waste more breath.
In any case, today's meeting was destined to end without resolution.
Seeing Terry Semel fall silent, Gerald Levin pressed on: "If you let me run this company, I'll reopen negotiations with Daenerys Entertainment at once. The film division may rely heavily on the DC Cinematic Universe, but so does Daenerys Entertainment. Even in the worst case—temporary stalemate—we'd only lose Superman, Batman, and Wonder Woman. Without those three, DC can still develop The Flash, Cyborg, Green Lantern and others."
Robert Daley, another Warner executive in Semel's camp, couldn't bear it and sneered, "Gerald, you have no idea what losing the Big Three means to DC."
Cut off, Gerald Levin replied irritably, "Of course I understand. I'm saying Time Warner should have more initiative and a bigger share of the benefits, instead of being jerked around by some twenty-something kid."
---
After the Time Warner brass spent the whole afternoon in their East Coast HQ boardroom shouting themselves hoarse with nothing to show for it, the West Coast was gearing up for the premiere of Daenerys Entertainment's other year-end blockbuster—*Jurassic Park*.
Hollywood Walk of Fame.
By mid-afternoon, crowds of fans had already packed the sidewalks around the Chinese Theatre. Daenerys Entertainment spared no expense on the rollout: a crimson carpet stretched the length of the forecourt.
At six o'clock the first limos began to pull up.
Fans lining both sides of the street chanted the names of Robert Redford, Julia Roberts, Robert De Niro, Nicole Kidman, Bruce Willis, Demi Moore—every star brighter than the last.
Near seven, Steven Spielberg and the *Jurassic Park* principals leads—Sam Neill, Rene Russo—stepped out, sending the crowd into fresh paroxysms of screams and camera flashes.
The red-carpet ritual done, the premiere began.
Alongside the usual galaxy of celebs and press, several hundred lucky fans had been invited to witness the dino-effects spectacle.
While much of the city settled into an ordinary evening, the audience inside the Chinese Theatre embarked on a two-hour ride of pure visual wonder.
Even after the DC Cinematic Universe had already shown movie-goers how far CG could go, seeing creatures once confined to books or imagination thunder across the screen still left everyone awestruck.
---
Thursday morning, confident in the film, Daenerys Entertainment lifted the review embargo a day early.
*The Hollywood Reporter* hailed *Jurassic Park* as "the monster movie of monster movies, a dazzling reminder of what the medium can do."
*The Los Angeles Times* added, "Spielberg has given us another milestone since *Jaws*—dinosaurs resurrected to inspire awe, terror, and exhilaration."
Every major outlet—*Variety*, *The New York Times*, *The Washington Post*—joined the chorus of praise, pushing the aggregated critics' score to an early 9.3.
Months of saturation marketing plus those raves sent audience anticipation into the stratosphere.
---
That same day, amid the *Jurassic* coverage, *The New York Times* ran a story that set Hollywood buzzing.
Headline: "Time Warner May Renegotiate DC Cinematic Universe Deal with Daenerys."
Citing the usual "inside sources," the piece said Time Warner vice-chair person Gerald Levin had told yesterday's meeting that the company had been "too passive" in its partnership; once he took the reins he would reopen talks.
And if Daenerys didn't agree, Time Warner would mothball the Superman-Batman-Wonder Woman "Big Three" and build its own DC universe without them.
With only four DC films released so far—through *Wonder Woman*—the franchise had already grossed north of ten billion dollars in worldwide box office, video, and merch. The stakes for both sides were astronomical.
The article detonated across the trades; reporters flooded both companies for comment while fans bombarded switchboards, mailboxes, and nascent online forums with protests and pleas.
Facing plummeting share price and a media siege, Levin spent the day insisting he had no intention of shelving the Trinity.
He blamed *The New York Times* for twisting his words.
Yet in doing so he confirmed that renegotiation was on the table.
Hours later, *Ygritte Portal* splashed a statement from Daenerys CEO Amy Pascal: she was "still gathering facts" but "regretted Mr. Levin's remarks, which risk undermining a fruitful partnership."
Directly beneath that item sat another headline: *Spider-Man* Animated Home-Video Sales Surge.
Released Easter weekend, the 2-D superhero toon had sold eight million cassettes worldwide and was cruising toward ten.
The juxtaposition left little doubt about Daenerys's leverage.
Daenerys was not afraid to play hardball.
Lose the DC Cinematic Universe? Fine—they could pivot to the Marvel Cinematic Universe tomorrow.
But without Superman, Batman, and Wonder Woman, could DC's universe still call itself a universe?
Thanks to *The New York Times*, the day turned into a circus.
After *Ygritte*'s salvo, other online outlets piled on with hot-take analyses.
Most agreed Daenerys was bluffing.
No rational mogul, they argued, would walk away from the billions the DC films were minting.
The franchise was as vital to Daenerys as it was to Warner.
Who could guarantee a Marvel slate would match those numbers?
DC was the studio's safest long-haul bet; nothing else in the pipeline carried the same heft.
In today's Hollywood, there are only two kinds of movies: DC Cinematic Universe pictures and everything else.
Daenerys had plenty of hits, yet none approached the revenue gravity of a DC entry—not even *Home Alone* came close.
---
Amid the chatter, December 18, a Friday, *Jurassic Park* roared onto 3,153 North American screens.