Chapter 296: Reducing Losses

Chapter 296: Chapter 296: Reducing Losses

On a new Monday, the air in the MGM CEO’s office was oppressively heavy.

Behind the dark solid-wood desk, Philip Green braced both hands against the table. The box office reports and media reviews spread before him felt like boulders pressing down on his chest, making it hard to breathe.

Ever since the disastrous failure of *Windtalkers*—a $120 million investment that pulled in just over $40 million domestically and barely $70 million worldwide—MGM’s already precarious finances had deteriorated further. The board’s questioning had never let up.

And this time, Die Another Day, the film they had staked all their hopes on, had failed to become the "lifeline" to save the company.

A $45.08 million opening week wasn’t bad on paper. It could even land in the top twenty opening weekends of the year.

But compared to the $67.8 million second-week gross of Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl, it fell short.

Worse, this was 007—one of the most bankable IPs in the world. MGM had poured $140 million into it. From filming locations to special effects to global marketing, every dollar was spent with the expectation of a box office miracle.

What chilled Philip more was the critical collapse: 64% on Rotten Tomatoes. It wasn’t the lowest score in 007 history, but it was far from high.

Meanwhile, Pirates of the Caribbean’s 90% freshness, released in the same window, felt like a slap across MGM’s face.

The newspapers on his desk were crumpled. "The formula is tired, Bond is tired." "The romance is trivial, the villain forgettable." "Even the 007 halo can’t survive audience fatigue."

The headlines were merciless, each one a reminder of the film’s failure.

Philip rubbed his aching temples and glanced at Ulysses Meyer, the Marketing Department director standing before the desk, barely daring to breathe. "Is the movie salvageable?"

Ulysses flinched. His body, worn thin by years of indulgence, seemed to shrink.

He had used his distant relation to MGM founder Louis B. Mayer to edge out the competent Robert Smith and take the Marketing Director position.

Since taking office, however, he hadn’t delivered a single standout campaign. Before, he’d blamed incompetent subordinates. But 007 was his project.

He had handpicked everyone from the director to the lead actress. When Pierce Brosnan learned Halle Berry would be the new Bond girl and demanded a sex scene with her be written into his contract, Ulysses had agreed to the absurd clause just to keep Brosnan happy and focused on filming.

He’d been confident before release, boasting that he would crush "those ridiculous pirates." Reality proved he was all bluster—good at throwing his weight around, useless in a crisis. Now, faced with failure, he had lost all composure.

"Th-this..." Ulysses stammered, eyes darting. "Maybe, maybe Pirates of the Caribbean is just too weird! Captain Jack Sparrow breaks every rule and stole too many of our younger viewers... What if we add more marketing budget? Hire more critics for recommendations, or run a ticket-stub giveaway on Facebook to drum up attention?"

"Add more marketing budget?" Philip slammed the table, rattling the coffee cup.

"Do you know how much we’ve already spent on promotion? $40 million! Throwing more money at this now is like throwing it into the wind!"

He fixed Ulysses with a hard stare. "You pounded your chest and said the old formula would work because Bond’s fan base was guaranteed. And now? The fans are the ones cursing us for exploiting their nostalgia!"

Ulysses flushed. He lowered his head and said nothing, but inwardly he seethed: Who knew audiences would stop buying Bond overnight? Irene Coppola just got lucky, filming an androgynous captain who stole the spotlight.

Seeing Ulysses’ uselessness, Philip’s anger flared again. He forced it down and turned to Isabella Rossi, the Distribution Department director and an MGM veteran. "Isabella, you speak."

Isabella shot Ulysses a withering glance, as if looking at a clown, then turned to Philip. Her tone was steady and clear.

"Philip, the first-week box office and reviews are locked in. Turning things around domestically is nearly impossible. But the 007 IP still has a foundation, especially overseas. Decades of fan loyalty haven’t evaporated."

She stepped to the desk and pointed at the overseas pre-sale data in the report.

"Look. Pre-sales in Europe and Southeast Asia are much stronger than domestic. We put everything into North America and neglected those regions.

Now that domestic reception is poor, we should pivot immediately. Shift all remaining marketing resources overseas. Emphasize classic Bond elements and action sequences, downplay the romance, and bring in well-known local actors for red-carpet appearances to build momentum."

"Additionally," Isabella continued,

"we should negotiate with overseas theaters to expand IMAX showings. Bond’s action and effects land harder on IMAX and can pull in audiences looking for spectacle.

We can also introduce family double-ticket discounts to drive repeat attendance. It won’t guarantee profit, but it can reduce losses and protect the IP’s base. We can’t let 007 go cold."

Philip frowned, thinking it through, and had to admit Isabella’s plan was on target. He looked at Ulysses, his voice thick with disappointment.

"Hear that? That’s how you solve a problem. If we’d listened to Isabella earlier and refreshed the script, we wouldn’t be in this mess!"

Ulysses’ heart lurched, and he shot back defensively, "Isabella’s plan is too radical. She wants to change Bond’s persona. That’s not allowed—"

"Radical?" Philip sneered. "The price of being conservative is a $140 million investment facing total loss. From today, overseas promotion is Isabella’s responsibility. You stay out of it. One more mistake and you’re packing your desk."

Ulysses trembled and fell silent.

Isabella straightened her back, her eyes firm. "Rest assured, Philip. I’ll have a detailed overseas plan on your desk as soon as possible. I’ll do everything I can to minimize the losses."

Philip waved them both out.

Silence settled back over the office. He stared at the Los Angeles skyline beyond the window, his emotions tangled.

The ship that was MGM had been tossed in storms for too long. Would this 007 failure be the final straw?

He didn’t dare think too far ahead. He could only hope Isabella’s overseas strategy would work—enough to buy MGM a little breathing room.