Chapter 83: Critics
["According to information obtained by our reporters from Warner Bros., Wayne Garfield is far more than just a director—he's the screenwriter, producer, and even handled the post-production editing of the film. He was the central figure behind every stage of the project."
"Warner Bros.' unwavering trust in him allowed Garfield to participate in the entire production process, resulting in a final product that carries his distinctive directorial style."
"After experimenting with Happy Death Day, Garfield leaned even further into darker themes and bold visuals in his second film. Despite showcasing the darker side of human nature, the film has received overwhelming support from general audiences."
"Top film critics such as Todd McCarthy and Kenneth Turan have both recommended the film in their columns. Roger Ebert of the Chicago Sun-Times gave it two enthusiastic thumbs up."
"Ebert called it a milestone for low-budget horror cinema—proof that a great thriller can be made from a unique angle without a massive budget. He believes the film sets a new benchmark for future genre filmmakers."
"Of course, not everyone was thrilled. A small segment of the audience reacted negatively, calling the story oppressive and the gory scenes disgusting."
"But controversy only fuels curiosity. The buzz around Get Out is drawing more and more curious moviegoers into theaters."
"At this point, Warner Bros.' only real concern is whether the R-rating will limit audience growth. After all, no parent is going to take their kids to see a movie like this on a weekend."
"Coming in second place at the weekend box office was Ron Howard's Far and Away, starring the real-life couple Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman. This period romance about a farmer and a village girl eloping in 19th-century America pulled in $22.37 million over the weekend."
"After opening strong on Friday with $9.98 million, its numbers dropped—earning just $6.94 million on Saturday and $5.45 million on Sunday…"]
Naomi Watts threw her arms around Wayne in delight.
"Did you hear that? We beat Tom Cruise! I can't believe it!"
While she was indeed happy to top Tom Cruise at the box office, what thrilled Naomi even more was that her movie had outperformed Nicole Kidman's.
Now, when people talked about famous Australian actresses, they wouldn't just mention "Mrs. Cruise" anymore.
She would never forget those early days in Hollywood—especially the snobbish attitude Nicole had shown at an Australian expat party.
"All right, Naomi, Will—put those damn papers down," Wayne said, patting the radiant blonde's shoulder with a smile. "I've got to head back to L.A. Once your promo tours are done, let's throw a proper party."
Naomi nodded, still beaming. Wayne waved at them and turned to head back to his room to change.
Leaning quietly against the bedroom doorway, Halle Berry said nothing.
In that moment, she suddenly realized: she was an outsider.
They were a team. She wasn't.
She was deeply envious of Naomi's luck. If the first film had merely given the Australian some name recognition, then this one had made her a star.
Hollywood was a ruthless place—but also simple in its logic: studios didn't care who you were. They cared only about box office performance.
Now, having starred in two hit films back to back, Naomi Watts was officially a marketable leading lady. Production companies would be fighting over her, offering her scripts and fat paychecks. Her time in obscurity was over.
"Hey, Halle, you all packed?" Wayne asked, now changed into a sharp suit, catching her lost in thought.
"I've got everything. Ready when you are." Halle pulled her suitcase and followed Wayne out the door. But not before casting one last long, envious look at the glowing Naomi Watts.
From the hotel to the airport, and then on to the plane, Halle sat quietly. Naomi's triumphant expression from earlier haunted her thoughts.
Putting on an eye mask, Halle silently psyched herself up.
If I'm an outsider… then I'll work my way inside.
She knew her current role in Wayne's life was part of a transaction, but she believed she could get more than what she was bargained for.
From Los Angeles to New York, Boston, and now Phoenix—everywhere Naomi went, she was mobbed by fans and hounded by press.
And the reason for it all was right beside her—Wayne Garfield.
If Naomi proved that this was the path to success, then what's wrong with copying her homework?
Halle clenched her fists. All she had to do was secure her place next to this man—and he would take her further than she ever dreamed.
After months of interaction, she'd come to understand Wayne's temperament. He treated those closest to him exceptionally well. His trusted aides—like Sergei and Nina—earned salaries that even Wall Street professionals would envy.
Wayne looked after his people—but becoming one of them wasn't easy.
Halle had tried everything. She'd pushed boundaries, played games she found humiliating, all to get closer. Yet Wayne never once let down his guard.
During her time living at the estate, she'd done all she could to become the mistress of the house—but Wayne always remained cool-headed. Not even for a moment did he waver.
"Hey, Halle. Darling—we're here."
Wayne's voice snapped her out of her thoughts. She took off the eye mask, squinting at the sunlight as they stepped off the plane.
"Sergei," Wayne called out while loading the trunk, "we're not going home yet. Go straight to the Warner Bros. tower in Burbank."
Halle, watching him with a forced smile, leaned in and said sweetly:
"Darling, I've got to meet with my agent—won't be joining you today. I'll head back to the estate after."
"Alright. Be safe," Wayne replied absentmindedly, his head already filled with work matters.
He didn't even look up as Halle kissed his cheek and stepped out of the car.
She stood on the curb, watching Sergei drive away, then pulled out her phone and called her agent, Julian.
Ever since leaving CAA to sign with William Morris, Julian had been more or less useless. But today, she needed her input.
A few minutes later, a red Chevrolet pulled up beside her.
Halle climbed into the passenger seat.
"Hey, Halle," said Julian, glancing at her as she drove. "You called me in a hurry—what's going on?"
Halle placed her clutch on her lap, buckled up, and looked at her agent.
They were practically strangers.
Aside from meeting a few times in person, most of their communication had been over the phone.
"Let's drive first. We'll find somewhere to sit and talk," Halle Berry said calmly.
The red Chevrolet rumbled to life again, and as they drove, Halle quietly observed her agent, Julian.
Julian didn't just represent her—she had other clients too—but none of them were particularly well-known. That was the only edge Halle had: she was still the most promising name on her roster, meaning she might still be willing to give her full support.
Before long, the car pulled up beside a gas station. The two women got out and walked into the small attached diner.
"Julian," Halle said, stirring her coffee with a spoon, "I think you understand the situation I'm in."
She took a sip, her eyes calm. "I admit I was being naive before. But maybe… maybe that wasn't such a bad thing after all. What do you think?"
Julian blinked in surprise.
To be honest, she'd already written Halle off. In her eyes, Halle Berry was a flame flickering out—finishing up the last of her Warner Bros. obligations for a small paycheck before vanishing from Hollywood's radar entirely.
No one in the industry wanted to work with someone like her anymore. Not even for a background role.
Producers and directors hated risk—and Halle, with her history, was a walking liability. A beautiful snake who didn't know when to shut her mouth.
"Alright," Julian said slowly, "what are you thinking?"
Halle put her coffee cup down and met her agent's gaze.
"Wayne Garfield and Warner Bros. both promised me a role once this was all over—a chance to start over."
Julian couldn't help it—she snorted with laughter.
"Oh, come on, Halle. Don't be that naive. You haven't figured out how this town works yet? Honestly, if you can walk away from this mess without them blacklisting you for life, you should count your blessings."
But Halle's expression didn't change. Her tone remained even, her eyes locked on Julian's.
"What if I told you I'm confident I can secure a role in Wayne Garfield's next project?"
There was no hesitation in her voice. No hint of doubt.
This wasn't blind optimism—it was the confidence of someone who had spent months learning the rules of the game.
She had come to understand Wayne Garfield. He wasn't the type to make empty promises. In fact, he rarely made promises at all—but when he did, he followed through.
If he had enjoyed her "services," it meant he had accepted the value of her contribution. And Wayne was the kind of man who always gave back when something had been earned.
He had a code. A personal standard of integrity.
Just look at Naomi Watts—proof that Wayne rewards loyalty and performance.
Julian studied her client from head to toe, as if seeing her in a new light.
"What do you need me to do?"