Daily Variety
September 20, 2004, Monday

THE BACK LOT

by PETER BART

Captain Kirk shows he’s still got game: At 87, Kerkorian closes
mega-deal. But could he come back yet again?

Whenever I hear the expression, “I’ll be back,” I think of Kirk
Kerkorian.

I realize many associate those words with the Great Gubernator, but
it’s Kirk who’s really put teeth into them — witness the many times
he has sold MGM only to buy it back again.

Now that Kirk has done the deal one more time — the sixth or
seventh by my count — is there a chance history may repeat itself?

I know some will laugh at the prospect, but consider the following:
If you were 87, sharp as a tack, in excellent health and with several
billion dollars to burn, wouldn’t you want one more reprise? It’s
sort of like Sinatra giving “New York, New York” a final encore.

There’s another factor, too. Kirk is probably the only remaining
studio CEO who actually likes movies. He doesn’t choose to walk the
red carpet or attend official events, but I’ve often seen him
standing in line waiting to buy a ticket. He’s that sort of
individual.

Given these propensities, why did he sell his studio? Probably
because no one thought he could do it. Industry insiders were
counting him out. They said he’d painted himself into a corner.

Kirk’s “corner” turns out to be worth about $ 5 billion. I know a lot
of corporate players who would covet a corner like that.

Under what scenario could Kirk buy it back one more time? Sony could
get into a quarrel with its financial partners; or Comcast could
exercise its right to pull out, or perhaps to make a bigger play with
Kirk as its deep-pockets partner.

The unique element to Kerkorian’s dealings is that he can move faster
than a Swift Boat. The decisions are his own; so is the money.

If all this suggests a certain admiration for Kirk, I plead guilty. I
don’t pretend to be a Kirk intimate (there are very few) but I’ve had
meals with him, had long talks with him, even worked for him (though
during my three years at MGM I almost never saw him).

Contrary to the usual descriptions in the press, he is not reclusive.
I always found him rather garrulous, if intensely private. He is
brilliant when discussing business, but it’s even more fun to get him
talking about more arcane topics — aviation in the ’40s, Las Vegas
in the ’50s or the really senior tennis circuit where geezers, rich
and poor, sit on the hard asphalt eagerly awaiting their chance to
pound away.

It was always a source of frustration to Kirk that, while he always
found ways to buy and sell his great studio, he never could figure
out how to run it.

His choice of corporate leaders was consistently disastrous, starting
with Jim Aubrey, through David Begelman and Frank Yablans. He was so
angry with some of his MGM hires that he even weighed the possibility
of bringing criminal charges against at least one.

In all his years, Danny Melnick was his only effective production
chief and Alex Yemenidjian and Chris McGurk, the outgoing chairman
and president, his only solidly effective business strategists.

Still, MGM in its newest iteration as a standalone entity could not
compete effectively with the giant multinationals — Kirk understood
that and knew he had to do something about it.

And he had long since memorized the scenario.

When MGM was in financial trouble in the early ’70s, he sold the back
lot, plus many of its old props and even used movie scripts. When he
bought United Artists in 1981, he dreamed of creating a powerful
studio (he’d earlier lost out in bids for Columbia and Twentieth
Century Fox).

But after a bad run of pictures, he tried to sell his stalled empire
to Ted Turner in 1986. Michael Milliken couldn’t sell enough junk
bonds to fuel the deal, so Kirk re-invented it several times,
yielding Turner ultimate control over about 3,000 film titles.

In subsequent years, Kirk wheeled and dealed with everyone from
Giancarlo Parretti, an Italian waiter, to Christopher Skase, a
shadowy Australian financier, to Peter Guber and Jon Peters. Some
deals flew and others simply flew away, but Kirk was always dealing.

To some who remembered the glory days of Louis B. Mayer, Kirk had
turned a great studio into a swap meet. Others simply marveled at the
financial machinations — how a one-time Armenian farm boy could
outplay Wall Street bankers at their own game.

And he may still be in the game. He’s got the money, he’s got the
energy and he still has that unique quality that sets him apart: He
loves movies.

He’ll be back.