[GodOfReader: Peasant, enjoy this extra chapter. I'll post more extra chapter if i get 100 power stone.]
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The film ended.
Amid the audience's enthusiastic applause, the cast and crew took the stage.
Chris Pratt clearly basked in the fans' adoration; when the host introduced him, the applause was the loudest.
In the audience, Daniel Kaluuya felt a bit envious as he watched his good friend energetically field questions on stage. In his heart, he wondered if, when his own film premiered, he'd get the same treatment.
Hmm, he definitely would.
Though Get Out's budget wasn't as big as Guardians of the Galaxy, it was still personally directed by Martin...
For a moment, Daniel Kaluuya's envy faded a little, replaced by a surge of anticipation.
...
Time flew by, arriving in September.
The latest 15-second trailer for Get Out began airing on major TV stations.
This was still just pre-promotion; the full-scale publicity blitz would wait until closer to release.
...
Time zipped forward again, to mid-December.
Specifically, December 21, 2014.
In front of the Hollywood Grand Theatre, throngs of media reporters appeared, armed with cameras big and small.
Starting early that morning, Get Out had opened in 2,088 theaters across North America.
Over 2,000 morning screenings showed just how much the major chains valued this film.
At 7 p.m., the premiere kicked off at the Hollywood Grand Theatre.
The black lead received some buzz, with Spike Lee, Morgan Freeman, Will Smith, and Halle Berry all showing up to support.
A silver Rolls-Royce slowly pulled up to the red carpet, and Martin, hand in hand with Scarlett Johansson, stepped out.
The moment they hit the carpet, flashes popped like fireworks, lighting up the surroundings like daylight.
"Mr. Meyers, last month your Meyers Films invested in two films—The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies and Night at the Museum: Secret of the Tomb—which topped the monthly box office. How do you manage to make every investment profitable?"
The reporter's question made Martin pause briefly, smiling as he said: "Simple—luck!"
Seeing the reporters' baffled faces around him, he chuckled. "Just kidding. Actually, in my head, I have an effective method for picking films," then he continue, "but I can't tell you—trade secret."
Then, pulling Scarlett along, he laughed his way into the photo area.
Scarlett couldn't help giggling. "Only you in all of Hollywood would dare toy with those uncrowned kings like that. Most stars, directors, producers—they all need to cozy up to the press."
"Well, yeah—I'm speaking from absolute strength." Martin struck a smug pose.
Scarlett was stunned. "I was going to say you don't rely on films for a living anyway."
"You're right too—films are my passion; investments and business are my career."
"But with your passion, you've crushed ninety percent of the pros in this industry."
"Ah, who's the other ten percent? I don't buy it—shouldn't it be a hundred percent?"
"Hehe!" Scarlett burst out laughing.
It was 8:30.
In the theater, except for the invited media in one row, the rest of the seats were packed with movie fans.
Daniel Kaluuya felt a bit tense. Before the lights dimmed in the auditorium, he turned back once more, confirming that this massive theater was indeed filled with fans. Only then did he relax and focus on the upcoming film.
"Kid, what are you worried about? With the boss directing personally, it won't flop—it won't!" He glanced at the big screen, silently hyping himself up.
On the other side, Martin and Scarlett were utterly relaxed in the dark, flirting in a particularly thrilling way.
The darkness hid Scarlett's flushed face.
She bit back gasps, waves of pleasure crashing over her like the sea.
No, can't make a sound—too many people here... Oh god, so thrilling... Martin's such a jerk...
What was that smell?
Will Smith, sitting in the row behind them, muttered, sniffing and glancing around, finding nothing amiss.
Scarlett's face flushed even deeper.
She shot Martin a watery glare.
Secretly pulling a sanitary pad from her bag, she tucked it under her bottom.
Martin, meanwhile, held a wad of ruined white fabric, sniffing it before casually stuffing it in his pocket. [TL/N: Fucking weirdo.]
The massive screen lit up with the Meyers Films opening animation.
Then, without credits, simple words appeared: "A Martin Meyers Film," diving straight into the story.
Bright sunshine, indoors—the black male lead was getting cozy with the white female lead.
Of course, this used Scarlett's body double.
After some intimacy, the girlfriend suggested the lead, Chris, meet her parents at her home.
The idea made Chris hesitant—after all, he was Black, showing up at a white family's house felt a bit off just thinking about it.
But after her persuasion and his internal struggle, Chris agreed.
They packed up and hit the road to her small suburban town home.
En route, the girlfriend accidentally hit a deer, startling them.
At her house, she introduced the main family members: father, mother, butler, maids, etc.
Her dad took Chris on a house tour and invited him to stay and enjoy himself for a few days.
By this point in the film, quite a few critics were already buzzing— even just the opening had layers of metaphors.
Like when Chris and his girlfriend hit the deer—not random, but a nod to how white American plantation owners used the English word for deer, "buck," as a slur for Black men: "black buck."
Kevin Thomas jotted in his notebook: "The deer represents Black people, so later when the girlfriend's father casually mentions wanting to exterminate all deer, he's really saying he hates all Black people."
He thought a moment, then added: "From the film's start to now, subtle hints of Black-white racial tension are scattered everywhere."
"Opening scene: sunlight streams through the window onto the white girlfriend, while the Black lead, Chris, pushes open the door from the shadowed entrance."
"Arriving at the girlfriend's house: the seemingly warm father gives Chris a tour; the household is all white, except for two Black people—who are the family's servants."
"Metaphors are everywhere."