Chapter 120: The Disgusted and the Excited

"The destruction of New York and Los Angeles fell like dominoes. Flames spread, cars flipped, buildings collapsed, and the whole world shattered in a sea of red fire. When the White House and the Empire State Building were blown to pieces from top to bottom, I felt the entire theater shaking."

The staff at the Los Angeles branch of APP Survey Consulting were in for a busy weekend, gathering firsthand on-site feedback at major theaters right after the midnight screenings.

"When that pilot flew his plane in a suicide run against the alien ship to protect his family, I was in tears!"

"A grand alien invasion, an epic Earth counterattack—an excellent, thrilling sci-fi blockbuster!"

"The film didn't disappoint. I was absolutely blown away by the sequence where major cities across America were bombarded! It proves that Duke Rosenberg's films are truly worth the wait!"

"The plot was tight, the scale was massive, and the concept of an energy shield was fascinating. Since nuclear strikes were useless, using a computer virus as the ultimate weapon to paralyze the alien ships was incredibly creative!"

Hames, stationed at a theater near Beverly Hills, collected almost universally positive reviews. The midnight screening audience rated the film extremely highly. The explosion sequences and the final decisive battle, in particular, earned praise from countless moviegoers.

Although there were a few negative comments complaining that "the plot is too simple and full of holes" or "there are no bright spots besides the special effects," they were vanishingly rare. They made up less than a twentieth of the random audience members he interviewed.

Trading gifts for completed questionnaires, Hames also received the midnight screening statistics from the partner theater chain. This theater had four movies opening with midnight screenings simultaneously. The other three were direct competitors to Independence Day this weekend, but judging by the audience distribution, these rivals weren't even in the same league.

Ninety-one percent of the audience who walked into this theater for a midnight screening chose Independence Day. The other three films had to share the remaining nine percent!

Packing up his questionnaires and materials, Hames walked out of the theater and hurried back to the company. They still had broader and more detailed statistical work to handle, and they had to send their feedback to Warner Brothers and Twentieth Century Fox first thing in the morning.

For the employees of the survey consulting company, getting any rest on the opening day of a major North American production was basically impossible. Working straight through the early morning hours was the norm.

Many of the audience members they interviewed found it just as hard to fall asleep.

After parting ways with Allen and Jones, Kunitz returned to his bachelor apartment. He took a shower and lay in bed, but he simply couldn't drift off. Images of the collapsing Empire State Building, the shattered White House, and the Statue of Liberty toppled onto the beach flashed through his mind again and again. His nerves, stimulated to an extreme high in the theater, were wide awake, and his body felt like it was still surging with adrenaline.

The sinister appearance of the aliens and their drive to wipe out humanity occasionally brought him an inexplicable sense of dread. Looking out the window, he couldn't help but wonder if extraterrestrial visitors might actually come to destroy Earth.

More than that, the film brought sheer excitement. In the moment humanity faced extinction, America and its leaders bravely shouldered their responsibilities, leading the entire world to victory. The heroic soldiers of the US Military were simply the protectors of the globe.

For a brief moment, Kunitz even entertained the thought of enlisting...

In Chicago, Jim walked out of the midnight screening and immediately ran to the theater's closed ticket window to demand tickets for the next day. Many others followed his lead, forcing the theater staff to temporarily reopen their ticketing system and work overtime to sell tickets to the ecstatic crowd.

Armed with three tickets, Jim went home, dragged his sleeping older and younger brothers out of bed, and eagerly rambled, spit flying, about what an incredible film Independence Day was...

In Pittsburgh, Dante went straight to a bar with his friends after the midnight screening. They drank ice-cold beer while passionately discussing the film's highlights, drawing sideways glances from quite a few patrons. After asking what they were talking about, many of those patrons drunkenly declared that they would head to the theater tomorrow to watch Independence Day, that movie where the American president fights aliens!

For many, this was destined to be a sleepless night—especially for the professional film critics who rushed back to their studios to hammer out their reviews.

In a studio in the Chicago suburbs, not only was Roger Ebert still awake, but his agent had also rushed over as if dealing with a matter of extreme importance.

"I received two offers of $500,000."

The agent sat across from Roger Ebert's desk, speaking in a flat tone, as if this kind of thing happened all the time. "Regarding Independence Day!"

"Oh..." Roger Ebert put away his fountain pen, looked up, and adjusted his glasses. "Warner Brothers and Twentieth Century Fox?"

"It has nothing to do with the producers or the distributors," the agent said directly, not making Ebert wait. "They came from two different public relations firms. They want you to raise some criticisms in your review of Independence Day."

Although the agent phrased it incredibly vaguely, how could Roger Ebert not understand? The other party wanted him to smear Independence Day, thereby damaging the film's word-of-mouth and hurting its box office.

This sort of situation had been far too common over the past decade, and he had done it many times himself. As an industry leader, however, he had to consider his own image and reputation, so he wouldn't heavily smear films that enjoyed explosive critical acclaim.

Of course, highly commercial movies that were already disliked by professionals definitely did not fall into his protected category.

"Who are they exactly?" Roger Ebert asked.

"They should be stars under CAA." The agent thought for a moment before saying, "If I'm not mistaken, one is Sean Connery, and the other is also an A-list superstar at CAA."

"Actually, we don't need to consider any of that." The agent shook his head. "During the rise of any director or star, they will always offend the interests of many people. Some hope Duke Rosenberg succeeds so they can profit from it, and naturally, some want to see him fail and trample him down."

"What's your opinion?" Roger Ebert did not agree outright.

The agent understood his client's mindset perfectly. He was obviously incredibly tempted by the one million dollars, yet he still insisted on putting up an aloof front so that the agent would have to persuade him.

"Film reviews serve a guiding role for the entire movie industry. They can prevent cinema from becoming overly commercialized and losing its artistry and humanistic touch. A commercial production like Independence Day, which gathers all the vulgar elements of the summer season, should be a target of criticism for the entire film critique community! Roger, you are a leader among film critics. You have a responsibility and an obligation to warn Hollywood!"

He spoke with great righteousness, as if he were genuinely acting in the best interests of the film industry.

"What about Warner Brothers and Twentieth Century Fox?" This was Roger Ebert's main concern.

"They didn't follow the usual practice of inviting film critics, which has already broken the tacit agreement between our two sectors." The agent didn't seem to care much about the two Hollywood giants. "Independence Day definitely isn't the kind of movie the critic community likes, so why shouldn't we just tell the truth? I imagine other film critics will make the exact same choice."

Roger Ebert nodded slightly. Since there was no PR outreach, based on his understanding of his peers, he figured few people would sing praises for Independence Day.

"Roger, the film review show you host belongs to a TV network under Disney, and you also have the Chicago Sun-Times backing you. With their support, why worry about Warner and Fox?"

The agent stood up, seeing clearly that Roger Ebert had absolutely no intention of letting a million dollars slip through his fingers. "If Warner and Fox truly lose their minds and ban you from their screenings over this, it will be a massive badge of honor for a film critic. You could even use it to make another run at a Pulitzer Prize!"

The fountain pen he had just put away found its way back into Roger Ebert's hand, and he tapped his chin lightly. The agent gave a knowing look, turned, and walked out of the studio. Under the starlight of the pitch-black night, he dialed two Los Angeles numbers in succession, a satisfied smile playing on his lips.

Although he wasn't as famous as the major entertainment agents, his income was just as substantial. He knew all about the money-making ability of the man inside the studio, as well as the greedy heart hidden beneath that illustrious reputation!

One million dollars—this already exceeded his client's normal annual income. It would be strange if he wasn't tempted, not to mention this wasn't the first time they had pulled something like this.

While the night sky blanketed Chicago, the horizon in New York was faintly glowing with the pale light of dawn. David Denby sat in the study of his Upper East Side apartment, a film review already nearing its conclusion.

He was not in a good mood. Earlier today, he had been surrounded by a group of fans and subjected to a barrage of verbal attacks. His title as a film critic had been completely useless. If he hadn't taken the initiative to apologize for offending Independence Day and the fans who loved it, he probably wouldn't have been able to get away. The resentment he had built up and the anger of being humiliated naturally found their way into his review.

But his mood wasn't solely a result of what had happened at the theater. Just as he returned to his apartment, David Denby received a phone call—one that made him feel slightly better. A sum of $250,000 was not a small figure for him, especially since he had already planned to attack this garbage film, Independence Day!

As for everything else, David Denby couldn't care less. Film reviews in The New Yorker were always known for their acerbic and biting tone. Since the distributors and producers hadn't offered up any PR fees, what did he have to worry about?

He wasn't like Roger Ebert, the top-tier vampire of the industry, who not only had income from TV shows but also constantly churned out reviews of old movies to scam nostalgic fans out of their money. His own primary source of income came from his column, so this $250,000 was very, very tempting indeed.

Professional ethics? Taking money to do a job was the most fundamental professional ethic in the film critique industry.

Just as David Denby was having these thoughts, Kenneth Turan of the Los Angeles Times, Todd McCarthy of the Hollywood Reporter, and a host of other top-tier professional film critics in North America were all considering similar tales of dollars and reviews.