Now my breakdown of the biggest and, in some ways, saddest deal news in a while…

The temporary people have become permanent. That’s really the only way to convey the
shock around town today at the announcement that Barbara Broccoli and Michael G. Wilson have sold their birthright—the creative control over James Bond—to Amazon. Terms of the joint venture were not disclosed, and the $1 billion price that has been floated in the media isn’t accurate, according to two sources familiar. But once the deal closes, Amazon is definitely writing a big check. (An Amazon rep declined to comment.)

You know the line: “Don’t have temporary people make permanent decisions.” That’s been Broccoli’s rationale for protecting Hollywood’s longest-running—and, at 25 movies and $7.6 billion in worldwide box office, one of its most successful—film franchises from the forces that often overexploit and ruin them. It’s a quote from her father, the producer Cubby Broccoli, whose Eon Productions (fittingly, it’s short for “everything or
nothing”) acquired rights to Ian Fleming’s Bond stories back in 1961. And over the years, it’s how Barbara and Michael, her stepbrother and partner in Eon since 1995, have wielded total control. Like a spy with a Walther pistol, they’ve brushed off studio notes, casting suggestions, and the quixotic desires of short-tenured executives to universe-ify Bond with spinoff movies and origin TV shows and other brand-diluting cash grabs. Only they actually knew why
Bond worked so well for so long. Only they actually cared about the character’s long-term viability. Only they could protect their various Hollywood partners from… themselves.

The temporary people certainly included the leadership at Amazon, which paid $8.5 billion for MGM, in 2022, in no small part for the studio’s contractual right to release Bond movies. But, as we know, Broccoli hated
the Amazon people almost from the day that founder Jeff Bezos called to welcome her to the team. Mike Hopkins, the career television executive who orchestrated the MGM deal and runs Prime Video, and Jen Salke, the career television executive who makes creative choices at Amazon’s studio—and who, notably, was not mentioned in today’s
press release—rubbed Barbara the wrong way. Hopkins talked up the MGM deal as a data and subscription goldmine. Salke threw around that other c-word—content—which is exactly how you don’t characterize the Bond franchise in front of a lifelong movie person who considers it her family’s legacy.

Accordingto the Journal, Broccoli called the Amazon suits “fucking idiots.” That’s an unfair assessment. They’re not dumb, they’re just working for a
ruthless global retail platform that measures success in microseconds of efficiency and values premium video content—which, let’s be honest, is how they view James Bond movies—based on how many more adult diapers it helps them sell. 

From the get-go, though, it was clear that a productive relationship with the very analog Broccolis was never going to happen. And now, after years of failing to manage their talent, Bezos and Hopkins have just
decided to throw more money at the problem. It’s kinda amazing: Amazon, which was already accused by me and others of overpaying for MGM, has now shelled out twice for Bond rights—$8.5 billion for the studio and library, and another massive fee to the Broccolis. That’s before shooting or even developing a single frame of a movie. Call it the “fucking idiot tax.”

Still, even those who know Broccoli well were caught off guard by today’s news. She
dropped zero hints during November’s Governors Awards appearance. A friend who saw her this week had no idea what was coming. So, what actually happened? I spoke to a couple of Bondworld people who speculated that, with Wilson turning 83 and stepping away from the family business, Barbara was forced to contemplate a tougher and lonelier path on future films. (The children of Broccoli and Wilson, especially Gregg Wilson, have been involved in past Bond movies but were
not seen as stewards of the franchise—at least not yet.) And despite all the speculation, there was nothing Bond-related in serious development at Eon. Broccoli had met with actors, as she always does. But it’s nuts: Movies were pre-selling at festivals based on Aaron Taylor-Johnson being cast as the next Bond, but there was never any real movement with him—or any potential Daniel Craig successor, for that matter.   

In fact, one person who spoke to Barbara recently about Bond said she has been genuinely stumped about how to replace Craig after five creatively and financially successful films together. Broccoli was even questioning how the next iteration of the character should look and act. Not a sign of enthusiasm.

Given all that, I think the most
likely scenario is that Amazon simply wore Broccoli down. She couldn’t work with them, and at some point she recognized that one of the world’s largest companies isn’t actually all that temporary. Nor is the streaming revolution that Amazon represents, and that has challenged the Broccolis’ model of making a single big-budget blockbuster every few years—and keeping it away from home video for as long as possible. Bond has remained the rare thriving theatrical franchise, with the Covid-delayed
No Time to Die grossing nearly $800 million as theaters reopened in late 2021. But for how long? Barbara could have tried to wait out the Amazon bros, but that would have risked allowing the property to grow stale. She could have tried to get Hopkins to partner with another studio with whom she could work, which Amazon would probably never allow. Or she could get paid and walk away.

And
let’s be clear: She is walking away. The deal is a joint venture, and I’m told the family will be credited and paid each time a piece of Bond content—c-word intentional—is released. But Broccoli and Wilson are out as hands-on producers. It’s not quite George Lucas selling Star Wars to Disney for $4 billion and disappearing, but the Lucas deal is probably the closest analog here (though Lucasfilm came with other assets, like Indiana Jones and the ILM
visual effects unit). It ends family control of a major entertainment property, and further chips away at traditional Hollywood players in favor of the Big Tech overlords that increasingly dominate media and entertainment. Great work, everyone.

Broccoli has other endeavors, of course, including theater projects and a remake of Fleming’s Chitty Chitty Bang Bang at Amazon, and she’ll probably find more stuff to do. But now she’s just
another producer—albeit a really rich one—stripped of the power and influence that franchise ownership confers.

You think studios were lining up to make Till, her $25 million Emmett Till drama that MGM bankrolled and released in 2022? It grossed just $11 million worldwide, but Amazon was happy to do it because… Bond. Broccoli and Wilson have made every industry power list, and there’s barely an
accolade or commendation they haven’t accepted, including last fall’s Thalberg, the Academy’s highest honor. Because… Bond. And because the Broccolis have stuck to their vision of the character and the franchise—always British, always martinis, always outrageous villains and beautiful femmes fatales. And always their final cut. That’s all up to the free shipping people now. 

If I’m Hopkins or Salke, my first call is to Chris Nolan. He’s been
open about his desire to make a Bond movie, and a major reason it didn’t happen was because the Broccolis wouldn’t cede control. (Their fights with Sam Mendes on Skyfall and Spectre are a fun bar story.) Waiting a few years for Nolan to finish The Odyssey, and giving him carte blanche and the 120-day theatrical window he gets from Universal, would be a small price to pay for a guaranteed hit and franchise re-starter. Plus, he and Emma
Thomas would produce it, too.

I say that because Amazon has paid a massive amount of money for a franchise that is now missing its creative engine. Remember, before Casino Royale in 2006, many wondered whether it was time for Bond to, uh, die. But then the Broccolis reinvented him. Maybe this is an opportunity for a cool, young filmmaker to do something fresh and interesting. But in the
wrong hands, the character is an unintentional parody. If they reinvent too much, the generational fans will revolt.

I gotta say, there isn’t much belief around town right now that Amazon can pull this off. Yes, they recently brought in real film executives in Courtenay Valenti and marketer Sue Kroll, and they’re building out an international distribution infrastructure.
(Universal has the right to release the next Bond overseas, where the films make most of their money, and after that Amazon can take over.) But will Bond now get one of those Red One 27-day theatrical windows? Or, potentially, none at all? Amazon sources say they’re committed to theatrical for big movies. But that’s now. What about in a couple years, when C.E.O. Andy Jassy might be pressuring Hopkins to deliver a jolt to Prime? Ultimately, that’s Amazon’s
actual business. 

Bezos asking the internet this morning who should play Bond probably made Broccoli throw up in her mouth a little. She famously ignored data and celebrity and went with her gut. Jeff doesn’t get too involved in Prime Video decisions—Melania documentary notwithstanding—but he did
champion The Lord of the Rings, for which Amazon paid nearly $250 million for the rights, and the resulting show hasn’t exactly lived up to expectations. Handing over Bond to the Russos or J.J. Abrams would be very Amazon. Maybe the next 007 will take a Blue Origin rocket to the moon, or accoutre his tux with titanium cuff links ordered on the Amazon app—convenient!—with same-day Prime delivery. There are many ways to kill this golden goose…

Still, all of this is a win for Mike Hopkins, given the stalemate. Despite the cost,
paying off the Broccolis should subdue the growing chorus, both internally and externally, asking: What, exactly, did Amazon get for its $8.5 billion? Since the MGM deal closed in March 2022, Prime Video added 4,000 old movies and 17,000 TV episodes to juice engagement. But the renamed Amazon MGM Studios has greenlit and released exactly one new film based on that storied library: Road House, a remake of the 1989 film starring an uncomfortably buff Jake
Gyllenhaal. 

Others are in the works, but so far, not a ton of value that couldn’t have been achieved with a big Pay 1 license deal, like how Netflix spends its money. And remember, Ian Fleming’s Bond is set to enter the public domain in 2035, so the clock is ticking. In a decade, the Broccolis and another studio could potentially put out a Bond movie that competes with their own joint
venture.    

When the history of Hollywood is ultimately written, the tech takeover will be described in broad terms, like: When the internet disrupted a century-old oligopoly of film and television distributors, large digital platforms ultimately undermined and remade the creative industries in their own image. That’s true; we’re living through that disruption now.

But what will be missing are the incremental moves, the little things that have slowly fallen away during the transition. A tech retailer that flexes its power by snapping up a troubled movie studio to lure shoppers—but then alienates its top creative partner to the point where she throws up her hands and sells, thus giving the tech retailer more power. As a result, the most enduring action hero in
movie history has now been swallowed by the algorithm. And the franchise with Bezos-like villains is now dictated by Bezos himself.

Maybe the Broccolis knew this would happen eventually and just decided to get it over with while they still controlled a truly valuable asset. After all—spoiler alert—Craig’s James Bond dies defiantly in a massive explosion at the end of No Time to Die. Maybe that was Barbara and Michael sending a message about the fate of the franchise—and about all of
Hollywood.

See you Monday,
Matt

Got a question, comment, complaint, or a Bond villain role for Jeff Bezos?
Email me at Matt@puck.news or call/text me at 310-804-3198.

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