The big screen flickered.
Chris, seemingly hypnotized, slumped in the chair.
The girlfriend's brother approached.
He unstrapped Chris's limbs, starting to prep to take him to the operating room.
As the brother turned, Chris, presumed hypnotized, suddenly leapt from the chair, grabbed a hard object, and smashed it against the back of his head.
The brother crumpled instantly but wasn't out, struggling to rise.
So Chris bashed his head again.
After knocking him out, Chris pulled two wads of cotton from his ears.
Turns out, he'd stuffed chair cotton in his ears to block the spoon-on-cup hypnosis sound.
Seeing the cotton, Kevin Thomas scribbled excitedly: "Another metaphor—back when white plantation owners bought African slaves to pick cotton, but here, Chris uses cotton to escape white control. No, not just a metaphor—it's satire!"
Kevin Thomas's heart swelled with admiration.
This film was a masterpiece.
In the front row, Daniel Kaluuya had calmed down, no longer caring about audience reactions, fully immersed in the plot.
Though his second viewing, he was still drawn in by Martin's clever setups and kept spotting new highlights.
He couldn't help muttering inwardly: "Mr. Meyers directed so well, wrote so well, and I acted so well—this film deserves repeat watches!"
On screen, after defeating the brother, Chris didn't flee.
He wanted to fight back, to take revenge.
First, he stabbed the girlfriend's dad to death with a deer antler when he came running at the noise.
Then, he killed her mom.
At this moment, the film's bloodshed didn't discomfort viewers—it felt exhilarating.
Pent-up emotions released.
Some even shouted in satisfaction.
Meanwhile, girlfriend Rose, upstairs at her computer with headphones, snacked while browsing for her next prey.
Unaware her whole family was down to just her.
Well, maybe not quite!
Downstairs, Chris found a car to escape.
But in panic, he hit the black maid with it.
Seeing her on the road, he recalled his mom's fatal car accident as a kid, felt compassion, and moved her into the car.
Rose, finally sensing something wrong, grabbed a gun and rushed out.
The black maid woke in Chris's car and started attacking him wildly.
Through her crazed curses, Chris learned this maid was Rose's grandmother, another lured black person whose brain was swapped, body taken over.
Enraged "maid" sought family revenge, grappling with Chris in the car, causing it to crash into a roadside tree.
The maid died; Chris survived.
He kicked open the car door, stumbling out to keep fleeing.
Audience hearts raced.
Could he escape?
Rose chased with her gun, and the grandfather in the black male servant's body, once a sprinter, pounced like a cheetah, knocking Chris down.
They fought on the ground.
Soon, Chris was pinned by the athletic black servant, pummeled.
In the critical moment, Chris remembered something, pulled out his camera, and snapped the flash at the servant.
The flash flared.
The original soul in the black servant's body briefly regained consciousness.
He released Chris, turned without a hint of oddity, and took the gun Rose offered.
Rose didn't notice anything amiss, handing it over.
The servant, without hesitation, shot Rose dead.
On screen, as blood bloomed on Scarlett's beautiful body, the theater erupted in cheers.
Scarlett muttered: "Is this character that hateable?"
Martin laughed: "Means you acted well."
After killing Rose, the servant didn't stop, aiming the gun at his own chin.
Boom!
The large-caliber shotgun's force exploded in his head.
His skull blew open.
Shell-shocked Chris stood, still unsure what to do, when police sirens wailed.
Yes, the cops arrived late, as usual.
Seeing them, Chris didn't look too excited—his fumbling hands and glances at the bodies showed he feared being mistaken for the killer...
But soon, his worry vanished. Chris saw his friend, the one he'd been talking to on the phone, step out of the car.
Finally, Chris escaped the horrific town.
As for the town and its people's final fate, Martin didn't reveal it in the film.
The screen darkened, credits rolled, thunderous applause rose, mixed with audience cheers, especially from black viewers.
A film with good black people and bad whites hit their sweet spot.
Daniel Kaluuya, joining Martin and Scarlett on stage, trembled with excitement.
He had a feeling—he was about to blow up.
On stage, Martin led the cast and crew in bowing to thank the audience, applause growing louder.
Daniel Kaluuya heard some shouting his name.
"Chris, Chris..."
Okay, it was the character's name, but it still thrilled him.
...
After the audience left, Daniel Kaluuya still couldn't calm down.
He couldn't help asking Martin, who was walking out with Scarlett: "Mr. Meyers, will this film do well?"
Martin chuckled: "Put your heart at ease, Daniel—you're about to blow up, believe what i say!"
Daniel Kaluuya instantly relaxed.
At that moment, Will Smith approached, saying to Daniel: "Kid, great acting. Honestly, I'm jealous. A role like that in Hollywood for us black folks is rare."
Martin thought: In a few years, roles like this will be everywhere in Hollywood—'political correctness' is already rising.
Then, a white reporter rushed up: "Mr. Meyers, as a white man making a film pandering to black people, don't you think that's a bit low?"
Martin was stunned—in today's political climate, a reporter dared say that?
Glancing at the reporter's badge: "Oh, New England Times—no surprise there."