Chapter 79: Media Reactions
The promotional event at Times Square wrapped up in a rush. Naomi Watts and the others didn't even have time to remove their makeup before being whisked away under police protection and taken back to the hotel.
The film had clearly struck a chord with the Black community, which was a great thing—but the massive crowds gathering for the event posed a serious safety risk.
No one could say for sure what might go through people's minds in a crowd that size. If they suddenly decided to turn it into a looting spree, Wayne knew he'd be the one to take the blame.
And it wasn't far-fetched—just one look at the on-edge cops was enough to tell you they were bracing for the worst.
Warner Bros. had reserved the entire seventh floor of a nearby hotel for the cast and crew. Wayne's suite wasn't quite a presidential standard, but it was still high-end: a main bedroom, two smaller rooms, each with private bathrooms, all connected by a spacious living area.
Back from Times Square, Wayne changed into comfortable clothes and settled on the couch, idly watching TV. But his mind wasn't on the screen. He was still deep in thought about the film's prospects.
By this point, it was clear that Get Out wasn't going to flop. As long as the promotional campaign stayed on track, the box office was pretty much guaranteed.
Nina and Sergei sat nearby—unlike Wayne, they were fully focused on the TV.
Halle Berry, curled up in a single-seater armchair, clipped her nails with quiet concentration.
Knock knock.
The sudden knocking pulled Nina away from the screen. She got up quickly to answer the door.
It was Naomi Watts.
She walked in with a spring in her step, positively glowing with excitement, arms full of newspapers and magazines. Without even glancing at Halle, she skipped cheerfully over to Wayne and flopped down beside him on the couch.
"Take a look at these, Wayne." Naomi dropped her stack of print media onto the coffee table and held up the top newspaper, pointing at the front-page entertainment headline. "Our film's been covered everywhere. These are just the ones I saw and bought—there's probably way more out there!"
Wayne took the paper she handed him and scanned the entertainment section.
["Summer season is nearly upon us, and North America's box office war has already begun. Currently, the number one spot still belongs to Disney's surprise April hit, Home Alone, which continues to dominate and looks likely to secure the title of highest-grossing film of 1992.
As for this past weekend—the second weekend of May—only two wide releases hit theaters. One was Far and Away, directed by Ron Howard and starring Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman, opening in 2,538 theaters. The other was a low-budget thriller titled Get Out, directed by Wayne Garfield and starring Naomi Watts and Will Smith, opening in 2,088 theaters.
According to data from the North American Theater Alliance, Far and Away had a lackluster first day with a $9.9 million gross, mostly fueled by Tom Cruise fans.
Meanwhile, Get Out started slow but surged after dark, pulling in approximately $9.7 million on opening day despite fewer screens.
This film may prove to be the next breakout dark horse following Home Alone..."]
Wayne tossed the paper aside. The moment he saw the box office numbers, the tension in his chest finally loosened. Get Out had nearly matched Far and Away's earnings with several hundred fewer theaters.
That meant they had a very real shot at overtaking the competition by the end of the weekend.
"Did you see that?" Naomi said, eyes shining. "We were this close to topping the box office for the day. Just missed it by a hair."
"It's already more than good enough, Naomi," Wayne said, grinning from ear to ear as he lit a cigarette. "What else are the papers saying?"
"There's a lot of media coverage and reviews." Naomi grabbed another paper and waved it in front of him. "Want me to read some to you?"
"This one's from The New York Post: 'Following its premiere back in January, Get Out received over 95% A-ratings from test audiences. After yesterday's wide release, the average dropped slightly, but still over 90% of viewers rated it an A or higher…'"
"Skip that one, Naomi," Wayne cut in.
"Okay," she said, reaching for another. "This one's The Los Angeles Times: 'Get Out is full of surprises, both in concept and execution. The real scares never come when you expect them to, and the secret behind it all is bolder than you'd imagine.' —Kenneth Turan."
"And here's one from The Hollywood Reporter: 'The film merges sharp social satire and horror with brutal effectiveness. Wayne Garfield's sophomore effort is a fearless social commentary masked as a chilling thriller. Don't mistake that to mean it isn't terrifying.' —Todd McCarthy."
"Wait—this one's from The Chicago Sun-Times…" Naomi reached for yet another paper.
"Enough, Naomi." Wayne stopped her, nodding toward the growing stack of praise. "You don't need to read all the compliments. What I want to know is—is there anything critical in there?"
Naomi Watts looked genuinely puzzled.
"Isn't it a good thing that the media is praising us? I've seen nothing but glowing reviews from every major outlet."
Wayne shook his head slightly and replied calmly,
"Naomi, don't put too much faith in the media's integrity."
He continued with a hint of cynicism,
"Warner's PR team did an excellent job. Today the media is shamelessly praising us—but if the numbers disappoint tomorrow, those same people will drag us through the mud just as easily."
Truthfully, Wayne had enjoyed hearing the praise too, but he knew better than to get carried away. He forced himself to stay grounded. He'd been in this town long enough to know that flattery in the papers was fleeting.
—
While Wayne and the crew were in the thick of promotional activities, inside the executive suite at the Warner Bros. tower, Jeff Robinov and CEO Kevin Tsujihara were reading the morning papers.
Suddenly, Tsujihara spoke.
"This film is outperforming expectations. According to our field reports, it's not just doing well in mainstream cinemas—even the theaters in predominantly Black neighborhoods have been packed since early this morning."
Jeff nodded with a sigh.
"I originally thought we'd take a hit opening against Far and Away. Honestly, I didn't think we'd hit our first-week target. But Friday alone covered over half of it."
"Today's a weekend day," Kevin noted. "Ticket sales will only rise. I want you to push the marketing team—ramp it up."
"No problem." Jeff tapped the front page of the newspaper.
"Tomorrow, I'll make sure every major media outlet is talking about Get Out. And as surprising as it is—the enthusiasm from the Black community? I didn't expect this level of support. The Halle Berry strategy clearly worked."
"It wasn't just her, Jeff," Kevin interjected.
He looked down at the headline on his newspaper, which read in bold:
"Wayne Garfield: Hollywood's Rising Genius Director!"
Kevin's voice was tinged with genuine admiration.
"No one expected Ron Howard and Tom Cruise to lose opening day to a 22-year-old indie director."
He wasn't wrong. In this town, secrets don't last. Kevin had already heard that Tom Cruise had tried to juice the box office with a ticket-buying campaign. Under normal circumstances, it might've been an effective tactic—as long as there wasn't a stronger competitor.
But this time, there was.
Kevin glanced at Wayne's photo again.
What amazed him most wasn't the press coverage, or the box office—it was the fact that Wayne Garfield was only twenty-two years old. Just getting started.
He hadn't even entered the prime of his creative life yet. But even so, it was clear from his first two films: each one showed growth. Wayne was learning. And he was learning fast.
Sure, every new director stumbles—even Spielberg. But Wayne was walking the tightrope with rare steadiness.
Kevin was convinced: if Wayne could keep this up without burning out, and if his creative vision continued to mature, then in a few short years he wouldn't just be a successful director—he'd be a franchise-building auteur in the mold of Francis Ford Coppola.
Even more importantly, Wayne had something rare: he made crowd-pleasers. His films weren't just director's passion projects—they resonated with general audiences. That was pure gold in the industry.
"Jeff," Kevin said, tapping the director's photo again.
"We need to lock him down. This film's success is no longer in question. The only unknown is how much money it's going to make. Even if it only stays in theaters for a single weekend, the ROI will be massive."
"In terms of investment versus returns, this film cost next to nothing. Make sure we keep him. I want his next film—and every film after—to be a Warner Bros. production. Exclusively."
Jeff Robinov was already thinking the same thing. Wayne Garfield's next project was sure to become the most sought-after property in Hollywood, with studios lining up to outbid one another.
The only saving grace? Wayne had already signed a "first-look" agreement with Warner. That gave them the inside track on anything new he developed.
"As soon as he wraps this press tour, I'll get a meeting with him on the books."
Kevin nodded approvingly and walked over to the window, looking out across the glittering skyline of Los Angeles—the City of Angels.
"Jeff," he said, hands clasped behind his back, "you know I'm gunning for the CEO position at Time Warner. Should be another year or two before old Kaler retires. If we tie this kid down now, it'll mean everything."
Jeff understood perfectly.
If Kevin made it to the top of the Time Warner empire, that meant his seat as CEO of Warner Bros. would likely open up—and with enough box office success under his belt, Jeff would be the clear favorite.
If Get Out exploded at the box office, the path ahead might just become wide open.