Chapter 71: 7.1 Million
Post-production continued steadily until the end of December. By the time temperatures hit their lowest in Los Angeles, Get Out had officially wrapped up every stage of production.
Warner Bros. had already received the latest trailer—a 15-second teaser—which premiered during the primetime slot on Time Warner's evening programming.
At this stage, Warner was still in the early phase of promotion. The full-scale marketing campaign would only kick off closer to the film's release. When the time came, Warner's television channels—like HBO and TNT—along with its various print media outlets, would all participate in the promotional blitz. Naturally, the sole purpose behind all of this was simple: profit.
But before any of that could begin, there was a crucial prerequisite—the media and critic screenings were about to start.
Right now, inside a small conference room at the Warner Bros. building, Wayne, Luke, and John—the core team members—were seated with Jeff Robinov, the head of Warner's film production division, along with three of the studio's film selection specialists, watching the completed movie.
As the projector powered down, the room's lights gradually came back on.
"The final cut looks excellent. You all did a fantastic job," Jeff said, giving a polite round of applause before turning to the three film specialists.
Since the film was intended for mass release, the opinions of these experts were especially crucial. Their evaluations would likely impact the final execution of the studio's marketing plan.
"The runtime is 104 minutes—tight and well-paced. The plot flows logically without any issues," said the first specialist, eyes still on his notes. His brief comments suggested a clear division of responsibilities among the trio.
Next, the only female expert picked up where he left off. "A low-budget production, but remarkably polished. Director Garfield clearly understands what audiences want and how to deliver a commercial thriller.
The layered reversals in what might otherwise be a cliché storyline elevate the film. In my opinion, it's the most refined execution of genre subversion I've seen in a thriller so far."
She then nodded toward the final specialist.
"A blend of suspense, dark comedy, optimism, anti-exploitation, and social satire—all woven together with inventive storytelling. The film is meticulously crafted, with a consistent sense of unease and the grotesque. The metaphor of the sprinting groundskeeper and the deer was particularly powerful.
This might be one of the most vivid cinematic portrayals of North America's racial issues to date. But I do think the graphic bloodshed at the end could provoke backlash—particularly from certain white audiences."
Jeff remained silent, carefully listening. These were veteran Warner employees known for their objectivity. Whether praise or criticism, their assessments were grounded in honesty and professional detachment.
"Well then, Wayne—what can I say? This is a masterful piece of thriller filmmaking," Jeff finally said, recalling the film they'd just screened and looking directly at the director.
"Warner has already sent invitations to critics, media reps, and the North American Theater Association. The screening is set for the 15th. Be prepared."
"No problem, Jeff." Wayne let out a long breath of relief—it seemed the film had been received positively. "In that case, I'll head back and get ready."
Wayne's editing philosophy from the start had been to avoid confusing the audience, to keep the focus on the central narrative and never let the pacing grow dull.
He'd built the entire film on a structure that was simple and accessible. The goal was for every audience member, regardless of background, to leave the theater without feeling lost or frustrated.
As for the expert's concern that the film might offend some white viewers—Wayne wasn't too worried. After all, it was just a movie, not a stack of universally beloved U.S. dollars.
Even the most successful blockbusters have detractors. Avatar, for example, despite its staggering achievements, was often criticized for its thin plot. But that didn't stop it from becoming a commercial juggernaut.
Outside the Warner building, Wayne and Jimmy got into the car and headed back to the estate. Now that the film was finally completed, Wayne's involvement in the project was nearly finished. The rest would be marketing and distribution—mostly handled by Warner. For him, the heaviest part of the burden had already been lifted.
"Wayne, I gotta say—this thing's got way more room than the Cadillac," Jimmy said in awe, settling into the wide, plush seat of the new car Sergei had driven back.
"I think so too," Wayne agreed, leaning back. "Looks like I can start handling work right from the road."
The car—a Rolls-Royce Silver Spur, extended edition—might have had a slightly old-fashioned exterior, but the interior was pure comfort. Once the vehicle started moving, the two of them barely felt a single bump.
"Your lawyer, Ryan, called me earlier," Jimmy said, his tone a bit complicated. "Ferren Goodman's legal team just proposed a settlement. Looks like they've had enough of you tearing him apart piece by piece."
Wayne had been so wrapped up in work that he'd almost forgotten the lawsuit altogether. It wasn't until Jimmy mentioned the opposing lawyer's early approach that he remembered—oh right, I'm still in the middle of a legal battle.
"What did Ryan do to make Ferren Goodman back down this quickly? I thought this would drag on for at least a year or more," Wayne asked, genuinely curious. Jimmy had been the one handling all the follow-ups on the case.
"It's not that Ferren wanted to back down—it's that he had to," Jimmy replied. "Ryan didn't just sue him for defamation. There were other skeletons too. His firm even hired private investigators and dug deep into Goodman's dirty laundry."
Even as he explained it, Jimmy shuddered slightly. These lawyers had no bottom line when it came to chasing a dollar. Once they realized how much Goodman was worth, they sank their teeth in and refused to let go.
"Hah! I guess giving the lawyers 30% of the compensation really lit a fire under them." Wayne chuckled. The contract he'd signed with Ryan's firm had a clear clause: not only would legal fees be paid, but they'd also get 30% of whatever settlement was won.
In North America, lawsuits like these almost always ended with hefty settlements—over 90% of the time.
"So, what are they offering?" Wayne asked.
Jimmy's expression turned more complicated. "Seven million dollars. Out-of-court settlement. According to Ryan's investigation, this will pretty much bleed Goodman dry. It looks like he just wants to end this nightmare and cut his losses. He knows exactly what your game is—death by a thousand cuts."
Jimmy had been witness to the entire fiasco from start to finish and had handled most of the coordination. Wayne barely lifted a finger, yet had already raked in millions.
"Do we take the settlement, Wayne?" Jimmy grabbed a water bottle from the cabinet and took a long swig. "Ryan thinks it's worth accepting. This is practically everything Goodman can afford at this point."
Wayne thought for a moment. Since the whole point had been to bring Goodman to ruin, and that goal was now achieved, there was no reason to drag it out.
"Tell Ryan I accept the terms. I'll fax over the authorization," Wayne said calmly.
Seven million dollars was already a huge win. If Goodman had decided to fight it out in court, there was no way Wayne would've squeezed out that much. But Goodman had clearly figured out Wayne's real intent—and chose to cut his losses.
—
Time quietly rolled into mid-January.
On the third floor of the Garfield estate, Wayne stood in front of a mirror, adjusting a dark-colored suit.
Because of his personal habits, the large wardrobe was almost entirely filled with deep-toned suits—monotone, but classic. Wayne had never cared much about fashion. He followed one simple rule: a man can never go wrong wearing a dark suit, no matter the occasion.
"Honey, are you ready?" Halle Berry appeared behind him, dressed in a sleek, black, low-cut gown that was both elegant and sensual.
There was no denying it—the "Black Pearl" in her prime was radiant. Her rich, chocolate-toned skin was smooth and glowing, and paired with a form-fitting mermaid dress, she looked absolutely stunning.
"Ready when you are." Wayne turned around to face her, his eyes lighting up. "Halle, you look incredible tonight."
At his compliment, Halle straightened her back with a smile and looped her arm around his. Together, they headed downstairs for the evening's special event: the test screening of Get Out.
The Rolls-Royce cruised smoothly through the city. Once the privacy divider was raised, Halle spent most of the ride glued to her compact mirror, checking and adjusting her makeup.
"How do I look?" she finally asked, sounding a little unsure as they neared the West Hollywood theater where Warner Bros. was hosting the screening.
"Absolutely flawless, Halle."
Knock knock.
Nina tapped on the glass from the front seat. When Wayne lowered the divider, she called back, "We've arrived, boss."
"All right, Halle. No red carpet today—this isn't a premiere. Let's go." Wayne opened the door and offered his hand as she stepped out.
To Halle's surprise, the theater entrance wasn't swarming with reporters or crowded with screaming fans. She simply held on to Wayne's arm and followed him briskly into the venue.
Tonight, Warner Bros. had invited not just media reporters, critics, and a select group of fans to the screening of Get Out, but more importantly, representatives from the major theater chains. Among them were experts from AMC and Regal Entertainment Group.
Theaters had only one criterion when choosing which films to support: box office potential. Even if a movie came from a Hollywood giant like Warner, that alone wouldn't guarantee prime screen slots. Ultimately, it came down to whether a film could deliver returns.
A commercially driven film like Get Out had to prove its worth—how many theaters and how many screens it could secure wasn't just about the studio's clout. It had to convince the exhibitors.
If the screening tonight failed to impress the selection experts from the theaters—if they saw no selling points and only a likely flop—then no amount of PR muscle from Warner would help. The film would be pushed aside.
"Good evening, Director Garfield!"
Just as they stepped into the theater's inner corridor, someone greeted them warmly and approached. Nina, who was right behind them, quickly whispered, "That's Downs Bell, senior selection expert from AMC Theatres."
With Nina's prompt, Wayne extended his hand. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Bell."