Chapter 117: Theater Selection

Taking the marker amid countless screams, Duke signed his name on several posters and turned back to the red carpet. With two consecutive box-office hits, he was no longer an unknown director, nor would he pass unrecognized in front of moviegoers. At the very least, in the eyes of action fans, he was already an outstanding filmmaker.

Besides, looking across all of Hollywood, there were only a handful of directors capable of helming productions with budgets exceeding a hundred million dollars.

Duke didn't interact too much, however. Following the cues of Warner's PR staff, he merely signed a few autographs as a matter of routine. Directors were not stars. Especially in this era, if their work wasn't excellent, these people wouldn't pay for tickets the way fans supported their idols.

Entering the interview area, Nancy Josephson stepped smoothly up behind him, ready to prompt him during the upcoming interviews.

Behind every public figure was the support of an entire team. In an era of increasingly rapid information, a single inappropriate remark could easily be magnified to extremely troublesome proportions by anyone with an ulterior motive.

Pulling his gaze back from Nancy, Duke said nothing. While he wasn't incredibly experienced at dealing with the media, he knew what to say and what to keep to himself. He wouldn't blurt out anything brainless; if he ran into a tricky question he couldn't answer, he would simply keep his mouth shut.

The reporter from Fox Television, which was broadcasting the premiere live, immediately came forward to greet him. The same media outlet that had frantically smeared him at this time last year now displayed the friendliest of attitudes.

The interview felt like a routine procedure. Prompted by the reporter's questions, Duke praised Warner Brothers, Twentieth Century Fox, and everyone in the crew from the producers to the actors, before hyping up his own movie.

"Director Rosenberg, this is a story about resisting a brutal alien invasion."

As the interview drew to a close, the Fox Television reporter asked one final question. "As the writer and director, what was your original intention in creating this film?"

"Humanity has built a brilliant civilization. When our civilization is on the verge of collapse, what should we do?"

Spouting nonsense was exactly what the occasion called for. Duke wore a solemn expression. "I believe humanity should put aside its disputes, unite, and save our shared destiny and interests."

Some things felt disgusting to say, and he vehemently disagreed with them in his heart, but as long as they could attract audiences across America, Duke would utter them without hesitation.

"Just as shown in the trailer, America is the world's top superpower, and it should shoulder the responsibility of leading this fight against the aliens."

Suppressing the urge to vomit, Duke waved to the surrounding cameras, fully presenting the image of a homegrown great Americanist to the public, before turning and walking toward the cast and crew photo area.

"Well said, Duke."

Nancy quickly caught up, praising him in a low voice from behind. "That last sentence will likely add millions of dollars to the box office. If this were awards season and we were pushing for accolades, that kind of talk would boost your chances of winning."

As incredibly awkward as he felt inwardly, Duke knew very well that wherever he stood, he had to consider what to say to best serve his own interests.

To a certain extent, he was now a public-facing spokesperson for certain capital interests, and he had to consider those interests.

After greeting the actors and several producers one by one, Duke stood in the crowd for the routine group photos. As he turned and headed for the theater, he caught sight of Naomi Watts out of the corner of his eye, fully enjoying the star treatment.

Naomi Watts's smile was brighter than the summer sun in Australia. Duke generally understood the mindset of actresses like her. After struggling so bitterly for so many years, they were finally seeing their moment of fame; the spotlight was what they truly cared about.

Stepping into the Shrine Grand Theater, Duke tossed all the outside chaos to the back of his mind. Because the crew had been delayed for so long with interviews and photos, by the time he entered, most of the audience had already filed into the main auditorium and were waiting for the screening to begin.

The two production managers walked in shortly after.

"Warner Brothers and Twentieth Century Fox have secured the maximum possible number of opening theaters."

The topic between the three of them naturally revolved around the soon-to-be-screened movie. Charles Roven stood opposite Duke and spoke softly. "2,885 theaters. That's the best opening theater count this year."

"We have no strong competitors opening at the same time," Robin Grande added. "Duke, your first two films established a resounding brand for you. The movies releasing this weekend are basically all small productions under ten million dollars. There's no way they can impact Independence Day."

"Moreover, the massive June hit The Lion King has been out for over two weeks." Charles Roven seemed in a very good mood. "It's already passed its hottest box-office phase. Although Forrest Gump's box office is stable, it hasn't truly exploded yet, and its highest weekend gross hasn't topped 25 million dollars. Neither of the two big June releases will pose a substantial threat."

This could be considered the best possible release window. There had been no strong films the week before, a lack of competitors the same weekend, and the biggest-budget film next weekend was destined to be a flop. Coupled with the joint forces of two giants like Warner Brothers and Twentieth Century Fox, Duke honestly couldn't think of a reason the movie would fail—especially since he had enhanced the special effects.

If it still flopped under these conditions, he really would have shot his first two films for nothing.

"As long as our box office is outstanding enough this weekend," Robin Grande spoke up again, "there's a chance to expand our release scale next week. The number of theaters in North America is finite; as long as we maintain a high enough theater count, we can squeeze the survival space of newly released films and reduce their competitiveness!"

The actors who had stayed outside began trickling in. Duke tilted his head toward the entrance of the main auditorium. "Then let's kick off this battle right now."

With that, he took the lead and walked toward the auditorium, and the others followed one after another.

There were still a few routine minor activities before the screening. Duke practically played the invisible man, yielding the spotlight to the actors who desperately needed the fame and popularity, and spending most of his time standing to the side and observing.

Media, VIP guests, and moviegoers made up the bulk of the premiere's audience. Since critics hadn't been invited to the test screenings, Warner Brothers and Twentieth Century Fox naturally weren't stupid enough to invite them now. Furthermore, the premiere did not provide free ticketing for critics. If professional film critics wanted to get in, they had to pull money from their own pockets and scramble for tickets just like ordinary fans.

However, by Duke's estimation, those critics who were used to sitting on high—always pointing fingers at the entire film industry without offering any substantive advice—wouldn't lower themselves just yet to line up and fight for tickets in a crowded mob.

Indeed, very few critics attended the premiere. Without the organizers providing free tickets and travel expenses, these people disdained competing with ordinary fans for the already incredibly scarce tickets.

The PR budget saved by Warner Brothers and Twentieth Century Fox had been entirely poured into advertising. Judging from the feedback data, the results brought by this portion of funding were quite satisfactory.

Not attending the test screening and not being invited by the organizers to the premiere couldn't stop the critics from walking into the theaters themselves. They would not pass up the opportunity to attack or praise such a massive production. A commercial blockbuster meant a potentially massive audience base; their reviews would be seen by more people, their influence would further expand, and they could exchange that for greater profits.

Although they always showed off tastes completely contrary to the public and highlighted the elegance of their own appreciation, critics were not fools. They understood equally well that the film industry and ordinary moviegoers were the foundation of their existence. If they lost their influence among fans, they would inevitably be abandoned by the film studios and the media outlets they worked for.

The Los Angeles premiere dragged on a bit. While it was still underway, the famous film critic Roger Ebert walked into a theater in Chicago, preparing to watch a midnight screening of Independence Day so he would have material to write about tomorrow.

Entering the theater lobby, Ebert noticed that it was especially crowded. He casually had his assistant check it out, learning that over ninety percent of the people there were waiting to see the midnight screening of Independence Day. As a local celebrity in Chicago, many fans recognized him, and quite a few came over to say hello.

After dealing with them, Ebert did not go line up for a ticket. As an illustrious professional film critic, as long as he wasn't blacklisted by the distribution company, he held the right to free admission. The producers of Independence Day hadn't revoked their privilege.

While waiting in a lounge chair, Roger Ebert's eyes, hidden behind his glasses, faintly flickered with thoughtful light. Since making a name for himself decades ago and gradually becoming a leading figure in the industry, he couldn't remember how long it had been since he had personally run to a theater to watch a film like he did today. In the past, even if the distributors hadn't invited him to a test screening or a premiere, they would usually send over a dedicated copy well in advance...

Just as Roger Ebert was waiting, The New Yorker's film critic David Denby walked into a theater in New York's Upper East Side. He stayed behind two female fans, occasionally overhearing their discussion.

"After waiting for months, Independence Day is finally out!"

It was a young woman with long dark brown hair. "Anna, if the movie is amazing enough, should we come watch it a second time tomorrow?"

"Aerin, don't you have to work tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow is the weekend..." Aerin hooked her arm around her friend's. Feeling an indescribable discomfort on her back, she looked over her shoulder to find a wretched, balding middle-aged man staring at her. She glared fiercely back at him, then turned her head and continued, "Although I do have work, I already asked my mom for time off in advance!"

"Hurry up, Miss Lauder."

Getting their tickets, Anna pulled her toward the auditorium. As they went inside, she noticed that the balding middle-aged man who had been following them also walked in, and he even took the seat right next to Aerin. He must also be an Independence Day audience member.

A little later, armed to the teeth with a hood and sunglasses, Tom Cruise and his wife drove away from their Beverly Hills mansion, heading toward the nearest theater. They had booked a private box well in advance.