Duke pushed open the door of his office and stopped dead in his tracks.
His desk had disappeared.
What should have been a pristine surface was now a landfill of telegrams, and trade papers.
The stack of Variety and Hollywood Reporter issues sat on the center.
He had been away from the studio machinery for too long.
The tabloid scandal, the Hefner situation, Star Wars pre-production, it had all demanded his full attention.
The industry, however, hadn't paused to wait for him.
Duke picked up the copy of Variety and felt his pulse quicken.
The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences had released their nominations.
Paramount Pictures dominated the list. No other studio had even come close.
Jaws had secured five nominations. Best Picture, Best Adapted Screenplay, Best Original Score, Best Sound.
And then there was the 5 nomination.
Duke read it twice. Then a third time.
Best Director.
His name.
Printed right there next to Miloš Forman, Stanley Kubrick, Sidney Lumet, and Robert Altman.
In his memory, the Academy had notoriously snubbed Steven Spielberg for this.
The old guard viewed Jaws as a horror movie, a commercial story, not art. Not worthy of the industry's highest honor.
But here it was.
His name on the ballot.
Duke set the paper down slowly.
He had spent a decade trying to be taken seriously as an auteur.
Character dramas, love stories, war epics, prestige projects. Everything designed to court critical respect.
And now a movie about a shark eating tourists had earned him the validation he'd been chasing.
The door swung open, and Barry Diller strode in. He noticed Duke staring at the nominations, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.
"Took you long enough to see them," Diller said, dropping his files onto the edge of the desk.
"I didn't expect them to actually vote for you. The older members of the Academy usually despise anything that sells too many tickets."
Duke gestured at the paper. "What does this do for our theatrical footprint this weekend?"
Diller's smile widened. "We're already expanding Jaws back into 600 theaters by Friday. We're aiming for another ten million domestic, easy."
He paused, pulling a sheet from his folder. "But that's not the real story, Duke. Look at the Best Picture category."
Duke flipped the page and felt his breath catch.
One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest - Miloš Forman
Barry Lyndon - Stanley Kubrick
Jaws - Duke Hauser
Dog Day Afternoon - Sidney Lumet
Nashville - Robert Altman
Five nominations.
All Paramount.
"Five out of five," Diller said, his voice dropping. "It's never happened before. Not once in the history of the Academy. A single studio monopolizing the entire Best Picture slate."
Duke stared at the list.
The other studios Universal, Warner Bros., Columbia, Fox had been shut out of the top category.
They had films in other categories, sure, but the main event belonged entirely to Paramount.
"The industry is furious," Diller continued, leaning against the desk. "The trades are calling it a travesty. There's talk of changing the voting system."
"Insiders are talking about favoritism, how we bought the nominations, and how the Academy has lost its integrity."
Duke looked up. "And what do you think?"
"I think they're scared," Diller said flatly. "They've never seen a studio consolidate power like this."
"We released five of the best films of the year, and the Academy recognized it."
He tapped the paper. "There are already whispers about a backroom campaign to rally votes against us. Some of the older members are threatening to boycott the ceremony if Paramount wins too many statues."
Duke sat back in his chair, processing the information.
He had known the nominations would be strong, he'd positioned the studio for exactly this outcome.
But he hadn't anticipated the domination that came after, nor the backlash that would follow.
The only studio to ever accomplish something similar was MGM during the 1930s who also had 5 Best Picture Nomines but the category was open to 12 nominations at the time.
Of course, the MGM of 1930s was too powerful even compared to modern day Paramount.
"Let them be angry," Duke said finally. "The votes are already cast, they can't take them back."
"True," Diller agreed. "But next year will be different. The other studios will campaign against us."
"They'll use the narrative of the 'Paramount Monopoly' to sway undecided voters. We need to be prepared for that."
Before Duke could respond, the door flew open again.
Robert Evans burst into the room, a cigarette hanging from his lips. He spotted Duke finally looking at the nominations and broke into a grin.
"There he is!" Evans shouted. "Finally catching up with the rest of us."
He crossed the room in quick strides.
"Cuckoo's Nest is going to sweep, Duke. I can feel it in my bones. We just need to make sure the older voters don't get cold feet about the anti-establishment themes."
Evans began pacing the carpet, his hands cutting through the air like knives.
"I want you out there, Duke. Showing up to the parties, shaking hands. Some of those older voters need to see your face before they cast their ballots."
He paused, squinting at Duke. "And there are some older women too. You can turn on your charm, right? Have you ever watched The Produce-"
Duke leaned back in his chair and interrupted, ignoring the last part. "How many parties?"
"3. Maybe 4. Just your presence is enough. Show up, shake their hands, let them see you."
Evans was right about one thing, the older voters wanted to feel respected.
They wanted to look the nominated people in the eye before casting their ballots.
A few nights of small talk was a small price to pay for a gold statue.
"Fine," Duke said. "You handle the scheduling."
Evans was already out the door before the word fully left Duke's mouth.
His voice echoed back down the hallway as he yelled orders at an assistant.
By mid-morning, the celebratory atmosphere had shifted back to corporate strategy.
Duke convened his key executives in the boardroom.
Barry Diller sat to his right, Robert Evans occupied his usual spot, managing the theatrical production slate.
Robert Shaye, the new head of Studio 13, sat across from them. Jeffrey Katzenberg waited eagerly at the end of the table.
Eisner was not here, since he was still in Florida, as the Executive on sight for the Theme Park arragements.
Of course, the company was paying his housing, food, and gave good bonuses.
Duke opened the master ledger, its pages detailing the final accounting of 1975.
Jaws was the undisputed jewel.
The film had grossed over 250 million dollars domestically.
It was officially the highest-grossing film of all time, inventing the modern summer blockbuster and validating the strategy of wide releases.
One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest had done over 150 million dollars at the box office.
Not bad for a critical darling made for just 4 million.
Dog Day Afternoon had also hit its targets, making over 45 million dollars.
The movie was about a real-life robbery, about a man robbing a bank with the intend to pay for his partner's gender change surgery, but fails completely.
The mid-budget thrillers had performed reliably.
Three Days of the Condor captured the post-Watergate paranoia of the era.
Hustle drew consistent crowds in urban markets.
Not every prestige project had conquered the box office.
Nashville was a masterpiece the critics adored, but the art-house prestige didn't translate to mainstream success.
The returns covered the ensemble cast and logistics, and make them a small amount of profit.
Barry Lyndon was the year's biggest disappointment.
A 3 hour historical epic was a visual masterpiece, but the slow pacing alienated audiences.
Monty Python and the Holy Grail had found its audience and did great and The Rocky Horror Picture Show was slowly mutating into a cultural phenomenon.
Dolemite was a successs in the blaxploitation market. A microscopic budget with great returns.
Duke turned to Robert Shaye.
"Carrie is locked in post-production," Shaye reported. "De Palma did great, Wide release in November. The test screenings have been incredible."
He flipped to his next file. "The Omen is wrapping up post-production. Donner has it for a june release. We're positioning it as the successor to The Exorcist and Rosemarhys baby."
The smaller genre pictures were also moving smoothly.
Alice, Sweet Alice was scheduled for late 1976 and John Carpenter was in pre-production for Assault on Precinct 13.
"I want to greenlight more horror after we are done with the current slate," Shaye urged.
"The profit margins are good. We don't need movie stars. Just a strong hook, and a modest budget."
Duke nodded, non commitical.
He pivoted to Katzenberg.
"Beauty and the Beast is officially complete," Katzenberg announced. "We're locked for a worldwide release this November."
Before he could continue, Diller interjected with a television update.
"Showtime and Nickelodeon are growing rapidly," Diller stated, sliding a chart across the table. "But to sustain growth, we need original programming."
He outlined his plan, investment in proprietary content.
Duke listened to the reports, feeling a sense of satisfaction.
The machine was working. The revenue streams were diversified. No single failure could bring the studio down.
The boardroom emptied, leaving only Duke and Katzenberg.
Katzenberg unzipped a large black portfolio and pulled out presentation boards.
"This isn't just a children's movie for us," he began, placing a vibrant poster board onto a wooden easel.
"We're targeting families, but specifically women. The princess demographic. We want animation enthusiasts who grew up on the classic fairy tales to check us out."
Katzenberg outlined the television strategy. Thirty-second commercial spots for prime-time evening shows.
A separate campaign for Saturday morning cartoon blocks.
"We're tying the release to the bicentennial," Katzenberg explained.
"The country is saturated in patriotism. We're pitching this film as a American achievement in the fine arts."
The print campaign was ambitious. Full-page advertisements in Life, Time, and People.
Mattel was producing fashion dolls, castle playsets, and replicas of the yellow ballgown that would hit department stores the same week the movie opened.
Duke studied the toy prototypes.
Beauty and the Beast would be the first female-catered property in the Paramount portfolio.
This was a vital strategic departure. Paramount Park needed something for the female demographic, even if it was in the future.
"I approve this focus," Duke said, tapping the picture of the ballgown.
"If the theatrical run performs, we'll integrate this property into the theme park permanently."
The Enchanted Castle was already under construction at a zone of Paramount Park.
Initially designed as a generic fairy tale place, it could be retrofitted to match the film's architecture and colors.
"This film will establish Paramount as an animation competitor," Katzenberg said.
___
Got headache, i got drunk and havent sleep since yesterday since i stayed all night watching the Argentina game and drinking so now im sleepy.
Sort of not a great chapter, but cut me a break. I did had it written before already
What book should Duke write?