Champagne glasses clinked, and everyone celebrated. It was the way to enjoy the moment, and in that sense, celebration became a release of contained emotions, of victories, and of the business now hanging in the air. As much as they wanted to deny it, life was a contract in which people performed and shared.
-—I really like your film.— James Cameron whispered to him.
-—Different, but not in the same way as Titanic.— Billy replied.
-—At their core, they're epic stories well told. Mine was driven by drama, and Matrix is driven by something else, by another place and another way of storytelling. It's guided by visual impact and the philosophy of the character, who leads the hero's journey.— James replied, with a steady confidence shaped by life itself. Opportunities now seemed to converge in a rare fraternity that only a director could answer.
-—Then I think we'll have a lot to work on. I heard you're thinking about a project already, but that you want—or need—technology.— Billy said.
-—Spider-Man. I want Spider-Man. But that's another story.— Cameron replied, weighing the idea.
-—But the technology.—
-—It's not my concern, and I think what I need to do now is take big franchises and do something similar to Terminator.— Cameron replied, taking a sip of wine with soda. He didn't want much else, and little else interested him. What he needed now was to be part of Marvel. Billy leaned closer and understood how difficult it was to move the novel with ambition alone, but with the inclusion of the X-Men and other living figures from the Marvel world, it was possible to create a smaller circle—without massive spectacles or endless projects—except for certain characters, like the X-Men, who could be part of the Avengers, of the original trilogy.
Only Storm, Wolverine, and Cannibal, who were part of the Avengers' game.
-—It seems to me we have many ways to make your dreams come true.— Billy replied.
-—How many, exactly?— Cameron asked.
-—It's simple. You'd commit to making a full trilogy, plus three other projects within the same universe, through a lens that follows your way of storytelling, as long as you don't lose the line we have in mind.— Billy replied, watching Cameron's eyes light up as the opportunity now seemed within reach, just a meter away. Even if he denied it or feared calling it a mistake, each of them was, in essence, part of a mega-project. With a strong author of cinematic violence and sharp narration, everything came alive.
-—It's always so easy to talk to you. When it comes to getting things done, you always seem to have the words I want to hear.— Cameron replied.
-—You win, and I win. I put up the money you want, and after that you just do what you have to do. Of course, I won't give you percentages, and you'll have to work hard—very carefully—because what I'm going to do won't be pleasant for anyone.— Billy replied, now fearing the man might back out. Part of taking on such a long job came down to two essential reasons: first, making a lot of money doing something he loved; and second, making everything worth it because of the work that lay beyond the margins.
Cameron thought his story was complete, and everything else was a bargain—nothing inconvenient or problematic. Because if he opened the series, he would have a lot to think about. Right now, he only wanted to do something hidden and twisted, something set aside, guided by a conceived work—something difficult to assemble.
-—We could make a Spider-Man film where very little is understood and everything is pushed to the edge.— Cameron replied.
-—Limits. Let's always push limits.— Billy answered. —If the story is good, everyone can do more with words. Maybe an end of the world—if it happens, the Earth doesn't matter, as long as the story is good and logical. That's what makes your work longer and full of what we call real work.—
Much to Billy's regret, very few people were willing to take something to the limit and do it well in the way he wanted. And that desire was to create a grand saga of ten films approaching the year 2000, a before and after that would mark another birth.
-—I think we can do a lot.— Cameron replied. They would talk about money later, when it no longer mattered, when success lay at their feet, and everything would be exactly as he wanted. Money was a matter of success; superheroes had proven that in their own way, but in other kinds of films where even their peers struggled to hit the mark. Such was the misunderstanding that Billy wanted Tim Burton for Daredevil, or a cold character wandering the streets of New York.
***
-—Tomorrow we fly to Tokyo.— Anne whispered to him while dancing delicately. She wasn't the kind who danced like a seductive woman or made overtly sexy movements exposing her body. She simply had fun in her own way, and when she danced, she enjoyed it. There was no denying that dances were done, however one wished.
-—Looks like we'll be traveling half the continent.— Billy replied, thinking about the ten locations left just in Asia, then continuing on to Oceania, moving up to Europe, and finishing in Latin America. What remained was simply to keep the fire burning for twenty days, to arrive and reignite the flames while people focused on doing their best.
-—Well, well…— someone else commented, dancing to calm those blunt feelings he carried. The party flared up again; everyone wanted something that would give them life.
…
It was the work, less than fifteen minutes away. They wondered how to keep producing something that overshadowed everything else. The future was a competition, and everyone clung to it—the competition of knowing how to read the business.
-—Maybe he wants to build parks. We have copyrights for great castles.— Michael Eisner asked, knowing how difficult and complex the role of CEO was, always anticipating downturns.
-—They could, but I think he'll build a themed hotel.— Bob Scuper replied, the lawyer.
-—What do you mean?— Michael asked.
-—Simple and very clean. Some time ago, I reviewed the contracts they have. There are no rides, no roller coasters—just a city built in his own way.— Bob replied calmly, unwilling to give in to change or upheaval.
...