Chapter 5: Opening Night Magic

# Chapter 5: Opening Night Magic

*November 25, 1992 - El Capitan Theatre, Hollywood*

*6:45 PM*

The marquee lights of the El Capitan blazed against the twilight sky like a constellation of dreams. Jake Morris stood in the green room, adjusting his Armani suit while Entertainment Tonight's cameras prepared for their exclusive pre-premiere interview. Outside, Hollywood Boulevard throbbed with an energy usually reserved for live-action summer blockbusters, not animated features.

"Three minutes, Mr. Morris!" A harried PA clutched her clipboard like a shield. "Mary Hart's ready when you are."

Jake caught his reflection in the mirror, the system's Most-Handsome-Man-Ever upgrade making him look like a young Robert Redford crossed with peak-era Warren Beatty. In his original timeline, this premiere had been Robin Williams' night. Now? The trades were calling it the dawn of Crown Studios' renaissance.

His Nokia chirped – another message from Spielberg's office. After watching the preview screening, the master of blockbusters himself wanted to discuss "future opportunities." Jake allowed himself a small smile. If only Steven knew just how future those opportunities would be.

"Rolling in five, four, three..." The cameraman's countdown snapped Jake into position.

"I'm here with Hollywood's newest sensation," Mary Hart's megawatt smile could've powered the El Capitan's marquee. "Jake Morris, you've become the talk of Tinseltown. Sources say your work in Aladdin isn't just revolutionary – it's redefining voice acting itself. How does it feel to go from modeling shoots to Disney history?"

Jake channeled his system's perfect charisma. "Mary, sometimes magic comes from the most unexpected places. Like a diamond in the rough, you might say." He winked at the camera, knowing that line would launch a thousand entertainment columns.

"Speaking of magic, your father's Crown Studios has undergone quite the transformation. Any truth to rumors that Disney's offering a multi-picture partnership?"

Through the green room's window, Jake spotted Harvey Weinstein's unmistakable silhouette skulking into the theater. Right on cue, the spider coming to watch his web start unraveling.

"Let's just say, Mary, that Crown Studios believes in wishes coming true. But sometimes..." He paused, letting his system-enhanced timing build the perfect beat, "...you have to help those wishes along with a little hard work and vision."

The interview wrapped just as the crowd's roar outside reached fever pitch. Jake's father appeared, looking resplendent in Tom Ford.

"Son." The older man's eyes glistened. "The pre-release numbers... they're saying we might hit $100 million domestic in the first week. That's more than doubled the projections."

Jake squeezed his father's shoulder, remembering how different this night had gone in his previous life – watching the premiere on a beaten-up TV while Crown Studios drowned in Harvey's toxic deals.

"Trust me, Dad. This is just the overture."

The theater's grand lobby was a who's who of 1992 Hollywood. Jeffrey Katzenberg held court near the concession stand, already fielding calls about Aladdin's tracking numbers. Steven Spielberg chatted with George Lucas, both sneaking glances in Jake's direction. And there, lurking by the poster display, Harvey Weinstein's face darkened like a storm cloud over Miramax.

"Darling!" The voice hit Jake like a thunderbolt. His mother, draped in Versace, her smile as practiced as a studio press release. "The prodigal son becomes the golden boy. Who could've predicted it?"

*I could*, Jake thought, watching Harvey hover possessively behind her. *I predicted everything*.

"Mother." He kept his tone perfectly modulated, his system's Emotion Control working overtime. "Enjoying your front-row seat to Crown Studios' resurrection?"

The house lights flickered – showtime. Jake offered his arm to Linda Larkin, who'd appeared like a vision in Dior. Together, they glided into the theater, leaving his mother's frozen smile behind.

"Ready to make history?" Linda whispered as they took their seats.

Jake grinned, remembering how this film would transform animation forever. "Trust me," he echoed Aladdin's iconic line, "You ain't never had a premiere like this."

The lights dimmed. The orchestra swelled. And as Arabian Nights filled the El Capitan's historic walls, Jake Morris settled in to watch thirty years of Hollywood history begin its rewrite.

In the dark of the theater, his Nokia vibrated one last time. A message from Disney's box office tracking team: Advance tickets were shattering records across all demographics.

Let Harvey plot. Let the trades speculate. The real show was just beginning, and Jake Morris had a thirty-year advantage on every power player in the room.

Magic carpet ride? More like a magic carpet revolution.