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The premiere was over.
And it ended in near-total silence.
Only a handful of people actually got to see it, so the buzz was basically nonexistent.
Bluebird Pictures still had hope; they genuinely believed Source Code was good enough to catch fire.
What they didn't expect was just how brutally the opening numbers would slap them in the face.
That first weekend caught everyone off guard, and suddenly Bluebird was having a full-blown crisis of faith: Did we screw up by betting this big on Joey's sci-fi gamble?
Friday the 13th (November) single-day numbers:
- Transporter 2 – $25.42M (2,313 screens)
- Romance & Cigarettes – $8.09M (1,254 screens)
- Mr. & Mrs. Smith – $23.12M (3,004 screens)
- V for Vendetta – $13.42M (1,834 screens)
…
- Source Code – $9.80M (2,314 screens)
$9.8 million on opening day. For a downright mediocre (borderline terrible) start. Way below what Bluebird expected after they'd fought tooth and nail to get it into 2,314 theaters.
Could Source Code really pull off the same miracle Juno did?
Everyone was starting to seriously doubt it.
By the end of opening weekend, the total was a limp $16.34M. At that trajectory, the movie would be lucky to break even.
Bluebird's distribution and marketing teams, plus the top execs, piled into a conference room for an emergency war council.
The GM, Charlie, was livid. He hurled the freshly printed weekend report across the room.
"Five-and-a-half million in P&A and this is what we get? Sixteen-point-three opening weekend?!"
The head of distribution looked like a deer in headlights. "We hit every beat we were supposed to. Trailers, posters, press junkets; everything. Nobody can predict when audiences just… don't show up."
Charlie exploded. "Are you kidding me? You pulled the miracle with Juno. Why the hell can't you do it again with this one?"
The guy wiped sweat off his forehead. "Box office is the audience's vote. Low numbers mean they're not buying tickets. Simple as that."
"Oh, now it's the audience's fault? You were the one hyping this movie like it was the Second Coming when we bought it!"
"Look, the film is excellent," the exec pleaded, "but excellent doesn't always equal commercial. Joey's got cred in the arthouse world, but sci-fi fans don't know her name yet. And Meg Ryan's persona is… complicated right now. Controversy can be a double-edged sword."
Charlie threw his hands up. "Great. So we bleed cash and it's still my fault for listening to you. Tell me how we're not totally screwed."
"We just need to give it time. Juno was all word-of-mouth too. These things take a week or two to spread."
Charlie laughed bitterly. "You think sci-fi runs on word-of-mouth? This isn't some indie drama. It's popcorn. Legs go the other way; they fall off."
"We're burning money every day we keep it in 2,300 theaters. I'm slashing screens. Get it under 800 next week."
The distribution guy looked like he was about to cry. "That'll kill it! Screens are oxygen!"
"I don't trust your judgment anymore. I just want to stop the bleeding cash."
Right then a voice cut through the shouting.
"Charlie, you're still as impatient as ever. You can't rush good tofu."
Everyone turned.
James… freaking… Cameron was leaning in the doorway.
Charlie blinked. "James… what's your take?"
Cameron strolled in, stone-faced as usual. "You drop a movie this shocking, that's your loss, not hers."
"But we need to make money—"
Cameron flipped open his laptop and spun it around.
"Look. Rotten Tomatoes: 90% fresh. IMDb pushing a 9.0 after one week; yeah, early scores are inflated, but still. Name me five movies that opened this high."
Charlie skimmed the user reviews flooding in:
"Holy hell this is the best time-loop movie ever made."
"Makes you think AND feel. Meg Ryan at 40-something is somehow even more gorgeous. I sobbed."
"Tight as hell. Joey Grant played us like a fiddle; just when you think you've got it figured out, BAM. Mind blown."
"Turns a cheesy flag-waving premise into a legit sci-fi thriller. Ending is perfect."
Charlie cleared his throat, a little calmer. "Okay… those are insanely good reviews."
Cameron actually cracked a tiny smile. "Give it oxygen. Word-of-mouth is already cooking. Trust the audience for once."
Because it was Cameron (and because Charlie owed him about a hundred favors), the GM sighed and threw up his hands.
"Fine. I'll trust it. And you."
"It's not about trusting me," Cameron said, heading for the door. "Trust the people who paid fifteen bucks to see it."
Thanks to the king himself stepping in, Source Code got to live another week.
A week later, the serious critics finally weighed in.
Some tabloids kept swinging:
"Source Code flops; proof Joey got arrogant."
"After Juno, Joey Grant proves it was a fluke."
"Rode her ex's coattails, now back to being a punchline."
"Meg Ryan officially done."
But the real outlets; the ones that don't take studio checks; came out swinging the other way.
Film Comment: "A jaw-dropping Source Code"
"Joey Grant, who stunned us two years ago with Juno, now storms the mainstream with a sci-fi concept that never feels gimmicky. Relentless pace, dazzling edits, and two career-best performances."
Variety: "A $20M sci-fi miracle made with smoke, mirrors and pure nerve. Conquers even the pickiest genre fans."
The word-of-mouth machine that started with Juno was now turbocharged.
And nobody; not even Bluebird's boss Charlie; saw what came next.
Week two, the daily numbers started climbing instead of dropping.
Then climbing faster.
Then rocketing.
Theaters reported packed houses, 97% weekend capacity, managers begging the studio for more prints and extra showtimes. Chains voluntarily added 16% more screens mid-week.
Source Code spent the entire second week owning the box office, beating every wide release.
Final weekend tally: $43 million.
It didn't just survive.
It stole the crown.
Nobody; literally nobody; knew how to process what the hell just happened.