To be honest, Laila was actually tempted by the invitation. She genuinely wanted to witness Green Lantern flop with her own eyes—would it crash and burn right from the start, or take a dramatic nosedive later?
In her previous life, she'd watched this movie on CD, and the feeling she was left with was… complicated.
Green Lantern should've been the kind of film that could easily pull in a decent box office. If she had directed it, she was confident she could've at least brought in several hundred million—maybe even over a billion.
For one, Green Lantern had a massive, fantastical universe brimming with imaginative elements. But in the film, this vast world was barely explored. Just as the audience was starting to get a taste, it was already over.
Secondly, the original comic characters were full of potential—but the movie didn't even manage to create a decent villain.
And what's the point of a superhero movie without a good villain?
Take The Dark Knight as a recent example. Many people loved that film, and let's be real—wasn't the Joker a huge part of the reason why? With such a charismatic antagonist, who even worried about whether the hero was compelling enough? The better the villain, the more they highlight the hero's greatness. That's storytelling 101.
As for the villain in Green Lantern… she didn't even know how to begin roasting it. It was a disaster. And how did the villain die? By falling into the sun. Seriously? A supposedly galaxy-spanning menace just falls into the sun and dies—just like that? Were they messing with the audience? Or really messing with them?
Ultimately, the audience always knows what's good. No matter how much you hype it, whether a movie is actually engaging or not—who knows best? The viewers, of course!
Promotion was necessary, sure—but it wasn't everything. Laila would much rather spend more on special effects than on marketing, because throwing cash at ads didn't guarantee a return. Unfortunately, some studios had no idea how to strike that balance. There were plenty of great films that lost money simply because the producers refused to invest enough in improving quality. A golden opportunity—wasted.
She had to bring up District 9 here. That film was an absolute gem. Its depiction of aliens broke away from the typical invader stereotype—they were destitute, pitiful, and full of imagination. It wasn't just creative; it also delivered something emotionally powerful.
If only it had been given a bigger budget, allowing for higher production quality, it might've taken home more awards and more box office revenue. Sadly, nobody expected it to be such a hit during production, and by the time the regret set in, it was too late.
Of course, the reverse situation happened too. Big-budget flops were a dime a dozen. Take Waterworld, one of the early mega-productions—it bombed so hard it became a cautionary tale. Or, well… Green Lantern, which hadn't even come out yet and was already looking like a teardrop waiting to fall.
Now that Laila had accumulated so much hands-on experience, she saw things differently. It was like learning English—immersing yourself in an English-speaking environment paid off more. Coming to Hollywood gave her the exposure her past self never had. Once she understood the system and the deeper rules behind it all, she started playing at a much more professional level.
To put it simply: someone who's never touched Hollywood before might struggle with cultural acclimation. But once they understood the hidden rules, everything started to click.
Many failures stemmed from that exact culture shock.
Take the same scene—Hollywood had its standards, often tailored to Western audiences. But a director from Asia or the East might interpret it differently due to cultural differences. What made perfect sense to an Eastern viewer could leave Western audiences completely confused: "What is this movie even trying to say?"
And just like that, the film would bomb.
Back to Green Lantern—its director and cast were actually pretty capable. The visual effects were decent, too. If you ignored the plot, it was a technically solid production.
But what do audiences care about most? The story, obviously. If they weren't interested in the story, why would they spend one or two hours in a theater? To watch actors strut on a giant screen?
If they wanted a show, they could just head to a five-star hotel in Vegas—or catch a Victoria's Secret fashion show. Why go to the movies?
Laila wasn't the only one baffled by Green Lantern's failure. Even some film critics had the same question: how did they manage to mess up such a promising project so badly?
Doubts aside, Warner Bros. was still pouring everything into promoting Green Lantern, hoping it would be their next superhero hit, just like The Dark Knight. They even hoped the movie would serve as the launchpad for their Justice League project. Their plans were already laid out—once the movie wrapped, they'd immediately begin working on a sequel.
And if the response stayed positive? They'd keep going—two, three, five, eight sequels. Who would say no to money walking through the door?
On the day of the Green Lantern premiere, Laila was very tempted to attend the event just for the fun of it—but Roy dragged her back.
"You are seriously thinking about giving free promo to a direct competitor?"
"Don't you know that just by showing up, you could boost their box office by tens of millions?" Roy wasn't exaggerating—if anything, he was understating it. Laila carried a built-in headline aura. Even the simplest things she did could be blown up by the media.
"Don't forget how much The Hangover's box office spiked after we saw it. That movie wasn't even competing with us, so it didn't matter. But Green Lantern? That's going head-to-head with our release in two weeks! Are you sure you want to help them out?"
Laila lowered her head in defeat. "I won't go. Happy now?"
Roy couldn't help but laugh, poking her forehead with his finger. "If you really want to watch it, we'll buy the DVD when it comes out. But forget about the theater."
He assumed she wanted to go because she was just into superhero films.
And to be fair, Laila was interested—just maybe not in the way he thought.
Seeing how disappointed she looked, Roy softened a bit. "How about I turn on the TV and we watch the live coverage of their premiere together, okay?"
Big-name premieres like this were usually covered by partner networks, either live or as highlights. At the very least, some footage would air during the news.
Warner Bros. was a major studio. They had no shortage of broadcast partners. All they had to do was turn on the TV to keep up.