The second day of Sundance arrived.
Owen woke up around eight-thirty in the morning. While having breakfast at the hotel restaurant, he checked his phone. He had several messages from Jenna: she had already arrived in Utah with the A24 team. The studio had taken care of her flight, airport transportation, and all the logistics.
Coincidence or not, A24 decided to house their team at the same place as Owen and the guys: the The St. Regis Deer Valley.
Besides Jenna, A24 brought:
Cristian, executive producer.
Elijah, director.
Grace, director of photography.
And John Hodges, one of the studio's three founders.
Owen had met John before. However, the founder he had the closest relationship with was David Fenkel, the one more focused on the financial side: budgets, returns, and numbers. Less romantic about cinema, more strategic.
That was the entire A24 team that traveled to Sundance. And it was more than enough. Even with an important premiere ahead, the full cast didn't travel. It was expensive, and Sundance is more industry than fan event. The two leads were enough.
The screening was scheduled for 8:30 p.m. at the Eccles Theatre, in one of its largest auditoriums, with an approximate capacity of 1,200 to 1,300 people. That's where the major premieres were held.
That meant Owen had almost twelve hours before he needed to start getting ready. A little less, since he had to be there before 8:30 p.m.
After breakfast, Owen went to greet Cristian, Jenna, and the rest of the A24 team at the hotel. Purely out of professionalism.
He and Jenna hadn't planned to spend these free hours exploring Sundance together.
They didn't want to fuel rumors. There were too many people from the industry around, photographers, executives, actors, agents, journalists, and more.
Public knowledge was that the two of them were colleagues who got along well, shared anecdotes from the shoot, and had good professional chemistry. Nothing more.
Behind closed doors, the perception was practically the same.
Matt, Tyler, Elizabeth, Sarah, and even the A24 team themselves thought they were friends. Maybe a bit closer than the average co-stars, but not intimate friends.
Yes, Matt and the others knew that Jenna had invited them to her New Year's party and introduced them to her group of friends. They had seen it as a good sign, nothing more. After that, there were no major public gestures or striking situations. From the outside, it looked like a pleasant friendship with good energy.
And certainly not that they were already in the process of something more.
Because that was what was really happening.
It wasn't an official relationship, but it was serious getting-to-know-you territory. Discreet dates at one apartment or the other; long conversations by text at any hour; and other details only the two of them knew about.
They had kept the information better than they expected. This was helped by the fact that they lived in the same building, which made discreet meetups easier without raising suspicion.
Not even Matt suspected anything.
Not because Owen deliberately wanted to hide it from him. It had just happened that way.
'I feel like Chandler when he started dating Monica,' Owen thought, slightly amused by the situation, after greeting Jenna, Elijah, and the rest of the team with natural ease.
In Friends, when Chandler Bing begins dating Monica Geller, Ross's sister, they do it in secret from everyone. Even from Joey, his best friend, who ends up being the first to find out.
After that brief interaction at the hotel, Owen returned to the guys and his family. They left The St. Regis Deer Valley and headed toward downtown Park City.
Once there, they began walking along Main Street, moving from theater to theater with their passes hanging around their necks. They went into screenings that interested them, came out discussing scenes, crossed paths with producers, actors, and even film students.
Tyler filmed moments for the vlog. Footage they might use later or might not.
"What do you think of the movie so far?" Tyler whispered, the camera rolling, pointing it toward Owen, who was sitting in the seat next to him.
They were in a large theater, completely dark. The giant screen was showing Mutt, at the 3:30 p.m. screening. They had already spent several hours walking around Park City and going in and out of different screenings.
Owen looked at the camera with a restrained expression, carefully choosing his words.
"To be diplomatic… I'll say it's good," Owen replied quietly, adding nothing more.
On screen, Mutt was moving into its final stretch. It was a drama that followed a trans man over the course of a single day, revisiting past and present relationships, all with an intensely emotional and introspective tone.
Tyler covered his laugh when he heard Owen's answer. He knew perfectly well that this kind of film wasn't his friend's favorite. Not because of the subject itself, but because of the pacing, slow, contemplative, heavy with silences and lingering glances.
Owen liked dramas, after all, he was producing Good Will Hunting, but he saw that as something completely different from this more political, minimalist style of storytelling.
"It's good… I think," Gaten whispered, low enough that only the group could hear him.
"Come on, man, commit," Eric insisted. "Don't try to be politically correct."
"Shhh…" Sarah cut them off, barely turning her head.
The entire theater was in absolute silence, focused on the screen. Only they were murmuring in the darkness.
It wasn't that Sarah was loving the movie either, but she didn't want the group drawing attention. Once they started talking, it was hard to get them to stop or lower their voices.
They stayed quiet for a few seconds until Gaten leaned toward them again.
"Guys… I need to go to the bathroom," he said this time, without any joking tone.
Owen, Matt, Eric, and Tyler all looked at him at once. Tyler lifted the camera again, sensing something potentially funny.
"To the bathroom?" he repeated with a faint smile.
Gaten nodded with complete seriousness.
"Number one or number two?" Matt asked, equally serious.
Gaten didn't answer. He simply raised his hand slowly and held up two fingers.
Number two.
Owen, Eric, and Tyler looked at each other at the same time.
It was the perfect excuse to escape a screening that was starting to feel endless. And, at the same time, to help Gaten find the bathroom, because none of them actually knew where it was.
"Come on, we'll help you find it," Eric whispered, about to stand up.
Owen nodded and was just about to get up when a firm voice stopped him.
"Owen, no," Elizabeth said in a tone that carried maternal authority.
This wasn't just any theater. It wasn't a regular multiplex where someone could stand up and no one would notice. They were at a festival screening, with the director and part of the cast present in the room. Getting up as a group, just as the film was entering its final stretch, would be too noticeable, and rude.
Elizabeth looked at him calmly, but clearly. "It's bad manners. You finish the movie."
Owen held her gaze in silence.
"Would you like to see people getting up and leaving in the middle of your film?" she added quietly.
That was enough. "No…" Owen admitted.
He slowly sat back down. His mother was right.
Owen looked at Gaten and murmured, "Hold it a little longer. I think it's almost over anyway."
Gaten sighed, resigned. The idea of getting up alone wasn't appealing. He didn't know where the bathroom was, and walking out in the middle of the screening, with everyone watching, was too embarrassing. He adjusted himself in his seat, crossed his arms, and fixed his eyes on the screen.
Ten minutes later, the film reached its end.
The screen faded to black. For a second, there was absolute silence, and then the entire theater stood up and began to applaud.
At film festivals, that kind of applause is completely normal. The applause isn't just for the story, but for the people who made it possible, who are there in the room. Sometimes it lasts several minutes if the film is especially well received.
Owen's group stood up as well and started clapping.
Owen glanced at the guys and murmured, "It's time. Walk."
Tyler already had the camera recording. Gaten, Eric, and Matt nodded and began moving naturally, still applauding, blending in with the rest of the audience. Luckily, they were seated near a side exit, which gave them a relatively discreet way out.
Sarah tried to follow them, but her mother's hand gently stopped her by the arm.
"We're staying," Elizabeth said quietly.
Sarah sighed, accepting her fate.
After the general applause always came the Q&A, the questions and answers with the director and cast. Leaving right then didn't look good. Owen was already an adult, he was with his friends, and they had done more than enough by staying through the entire screening.
Outside the theater, as soon as they stepped through the doors and blended into the murmur of the lobby, they stopped clapping.
"Finally… how long was that movie?" Eric said, stretching his neck as if he had just finished a marathon.
"Only an hour and a half," Matt replied.
"What? That long?" Tyler shot back, incredulous. "I swear it felt like three hours."
Before they could continue criticizing the pacing or debating long takes and endless silences, Gaten interrupted them with complete seriousness. "Guys, this isn't a joke. I need the bathroom. Focus."
"Right, side-quest activated. Follow me! I think I know where the restrooms are," Matt said, taking the lead.
"Think? That does not comfort me," Gaten replied, hurrying after him.
The theater lobby was busy, people exiting the screening, others waiting for the next one, credentials hanging everywhere, overlapping conversations filling the space.
They walked quickly behind Matt, who moved with confidence despite clearly having no idea where the bathrooms actually were.
They turned down a side hallway.
Went down a staircase that seemed to lead to another auditorium.
Came back up.
Turned a corner that led to a technical area.
"I think it's this way…" Matt muttered, far less convinced now.
They spent almost ten minutes like that until Owen had the most logical idea in the world.
"What if we ask someone who works here?"
There was a pause. Then they did exactly that.
Owen approached a festival staff member with a badge. Two clear directions later, they turned down another hallway, and there they were.
The bathrooms.
"Why the hell are the bathrooms so hidden?" Eric asked as he pushed the door open.
"Move!" Gaten said, stepping ahead and nudging him aside with his shoulder.
He went straight into the first available stall and shut the door without ceremony.
"Well, mission accomplished. We're not the first filmmakers at Sundance with a friend on the brink of disaster," Matt said, heading inside as well.
The others laughed as they lined up at the urinals.
"Hey, point that somewhere else," Eric told Tyler when he noticed the camera was still on. "Don't take your cameraman role that seriously."
"What? Are you shy?" Tyler replied with a grin, though he turned the camera toward a different wall.
When they were done, they moved to the sinks. While waiting for Gaten to come out of the stall, they started talking about the movie.
"A slow film," Owen commented in a neutral tone, calmly drying his hands.
"Slow is an understatement. Some scenes felt eternal," Eric corrected, glancing at himself in the mirror and adjusting his hair.
Tyler nodded while documenting the post-film bathroom analysis.
"And that was only an hour and a half."
"It was more about atmosphere," Matt said, adjusting his coat. "Not everything has to be fast-paced."
"I'm not asking for Marvel or Mission: Impossible," Owen replied, arms crossed, leaning against the wall.
"Yeah, a little rhythm wouldn't have killed anyone," Eric added. "Also, what was the exact point of the movie? A trans guy reconnecting with his past?"
Owen nodded slightly. "Why did we even choose this film in the first place?"
Matt let out a short laugh and shook his head. "You guys are going to get canceled if this makes it into the vlog."
Eric narrowed his eyes at him. "You picked the movie. And don't act like some elevated cinephile, you're the most cancelable out of all of us."
From inside the stall, Gaten's voice rose. "Owen, aren't you the so-called 'indie genius'? You should be supporting this kind of cinema more."
The laughter was immediate. The nickname hadn't gone unnoticed, some recent articles and pieces had already started calling him that. And not ironically.
They meant it.
Because of his short films, so well received by both critics and audiences. Because he had achieved something uncommon: auteur-style cinema that also worked outside the festival circuit. Paperman and One Minute Time Machine hadn't just been praised for their storytelling, they had gone viral.
And then there were his feature films.
A horror movie that had been well received on both fronts, critically and financially, which doesn't always align. And now, a coming-of-age drama that A24 had bought from Owen and produced on a modest budget, but with real backing, premiering in the festival's most prestigious slot.
And besides, his next project was no longer an abstract idea. It was tangible. It had confirmed cast members, its own financing, and a shooting schedule. It wasn't smoke or youthful promise.
That was what fueled the "indie genius" label. Not a marketing campaign, but a coherent sequence of results.
"Just because I make independent films doesn't mean I have to say I like every indie movie. We live in a free country, right? Critics can say whether they like something or not. As viewers, we can also say whether we thought it was good or not," Owen said.
"I like that," Eric replied, nodding firmly.
At that moment, the stall door opened. Gaten stepped out with an expression of absolute relief. "Now I can debate philosophy and freedom of speech much better."
That triggered more laughter. They kept chatting as they left the bathroom.
The day went on until Owen returned to the hotel around six in the evening to get ready for The Spectacular Now screening.
He showered and checked the suit he would wear that night. Sundance was more relaxed in terms of fashion than Cannes or Venice, but it was still an A24 premiere at the Eccles Theatre. He needed to be better prepared than the night before.
At 7:00 p.m., it was time to meet Jenna, Elijah, Cristian, and John. A24 had arranged black SUVs to take them together to the theater.
Before heading downstairs, Owen explained on camera that Tyler would film from farther away this time. If he had the chance and permission, he would try to capture a few moments from inside using his phone.
In the lobby, he met up with everyone. After greetings, he got into an SUV alongside Cristian and Jenna.
Elijah, Grace, and John would follow in another vehicle.
The SUV had three rows. Jenna and Owen ended up seated next to each other, separated by the folded middle seat serving as an armrest, with Cristian sitting across from them.
For a few seconds, there was silence as the vehicle pulled away.
Owen glanced sideways at Jenna. She did the same. Then both looked forward again.
It was a strange situation.
They could have started talking naturally: asking how the day in Park City had been, commenting on a movie they had seen, laughing about the bathroom story with Gaten. But that closeness and ease would have been noticeable immediately. And Cristian was sitting right in front of them, along with the driver.
Cristian looked up after adjusting his tie.
'What's going on with the atmosphere?' he thought, sensing the brief silent tension.
Before he could analyze it further, Owen spoke up and explained that he was filming a vlog for his YouTube channel and asked if they wanted to appear in a brief introduction, maybe comment on their outfits or something like that.
Jenna already knew, but she listened as if hearing it for the first time.
"A vlog for your YouTube channel?" Cristian murmured.
The channel didn't have many videos, but it had accumulated millions of views. Short films worth gold in terms of impact, and a solid subscriber base.
Cristian thought for a second. "I'm fine with it. It'd be fun to appear, and it's publicity for the film."
That vlog would probably get a few million views just for showing the festival from the inside.
"I'm fine with it too," Jenna replied, nodding naturally.
"Great, thanks," Owen said, pulling out his phone and turning on the camera.
He adjusted the framing and spoke. "We're on our way to the Eccles Theatre for the premiere of The Spectacular Now. And here's Cristian," he angled the camera slightly toward him, "A24 producer."
Cristian inclined his head with a professional smile.
"He's the one who discovered the script for The Spectacular Now," Owen continued. "Thanks to that connection, everything later lined up for Paranormal Activity. A24, distribution, and you know… the rest is history."
Cristian shook his head gently. "It wasn't that important," he said with genuine modesty. "The script was good. And Paranormal Activity was too."
Cristian knew that if they hadn't found it, another studio would have snatched it after seeing the performance Paranormal Activity had in Palm Springs.
And the same with The Spectacular Now script, which had been published on the Black List.
Owen smiled. "Thanks."
Cristian looked straight at the camera and raised a hand in greeting. "Hello, YouTube people… or Owen's subscribers…?"
He paused for a second. "No, no, that sounded weird," he said, turning to Owen. "Let's do it again."
Owen shook his head. "No repeats. Everything's natural here. First take, whatever happens."
Cristian let out a small laugh.
"Alright. I'll adapt," Cristian added with a faint smile.
Then, without overthinking it, Cristian quickly commented on the outfit he was wearing for the premiere: a classic dark suit, impeccable cut, white shirt, and a restrained gray tie. No price tags mentioned.
"Definitely much better than Matt and the guys' outfits," Owen murmured toward the camera in a conspiratorial tone.
Then Owen turned the phone toward himself, framing his face.
"And now…" he said, adopting a slightly exaggerated tone, "the next person is the film's co-star. Probably the most talked-about actress of the moment. Yes, I got her approval to appear in the vlog, everything legal."
Cristian was already laughing before he finished the sentence.
"Ladies and gentlemen…" Owen continued, "Jenna Ortega."
He turned the camera toward her.
Jenna waved calmly, without overacting. "Hi," she said with a small smile, looking directly into the lens.
Then she glanced sideways at Owen. "Thanks for the big introduction, but I can't compare myself to the indie genius."
Cristian burst out laughing.
Owen quickly turned the camera back to himself.
"I don't like that nickname," he said with an expression halfway between resigned and amused. "Though if you watched the full vlog, you already know that."
He pointed the camera at Jenna again.
She casually commented on her outfit: an ivory-colored dress, elegant but understated, nothing too flashy or over-the-top.
"Yeah, the level definitely went up," Owen added.
He stopped recording just as the SUV began to slow down.
Through the window, the lights of the Eccles Theatre were already visible, intermittent flashes and the constant movement of press and accredited guests.
The second SUV, carrying Elijah, Grace, and John, arrived right behind them.
They all stepped out almost at the same time.
In front of the entrance stood the classic Step & Repeat: a wall patterned with repeated Sundance Film Festival and A24 logos, designed specifically for official photographs, the spot where guests pause for pictures.
They walked together toward the marked area.
"Owen, over here!"
"Jenna, to the left!"
"Look center!"
As expected, the photographers shouted directions nonstop, as if they had consumed industrial amounts of energy drinks.
There were individual shots, Owen alone, Jenna alone. Then both of them together in the center, their gazes shifting between different cameras.
Then a group photo with the director. Cristian and Grace, the cinematographer, joined in for another round.
It was minutes of flash after flash.
'So annoying…' Owen thought, trying not to squint every time a burst of white light exploded in front of his face. But it was standard procedure at any premiere.
After the main block of photos, the quick mini-interviews began. Microphones with logos, cameras, and direct questions.
It was fast-paced, compressed into twenty-second answers or slightly more.
Owen responded clearly, without dragging his answers.
Beside him, Jenna did the same.
Then a journalist he hadn't seen before approached. He didn't carry a big network logo. He seemed to represent a smaller outlet.
"Hi, I'm Paul Harper, from East Coast Film Review," he introduced himself with a professional smile.
"Hi, nice to meet you," Owen greeted politely.
"There are rumors that Good Will Hunting will begin shooting in February. Can you confirm that?"
The question was direct.
Owen wasn't surprised. There had already been rumors that filming would begin sooner rather than later, with the cast fully confirmed. Still, the speed of the production was surprising to many in the industry.
"Yes. February first. In Boston," Owen replied.
The journalist nodded, satisfied. "Thank you, and congratulations on the premiere."
"Thanks," Owen answered with a slight smile.
Another journalist followed up, practically pushing the microphone toward his face. "How do you handle premiering here while you're about to start shooting another film?"
Owen answered that question and a few more until the interview block finally ended and he was guided inside the theater.
Inside the Eccles Theatre, the auditorium was already nearly full. More than a thousand people seated, murmurs of anticipation filling the space.
At 8:25 p.m., the lights dimmed slightly.
The festival programmer stepped onto the stage and gave a brief introduction about the film. Then he invited the team up.
Owen, Jenna, and the rest walked onto the stage to sustained applause.
Elijah spoke first. He talked for two or three minutes about the creative process, Owen's script, the chemistry between the leads, and the privilege of premiering at Sundance.
Owen and Jenna gave short thank-yous, and Cristian closed it out. There was another round of applause, and they stepped down from the stage, returning to their seats.
The lights went completely dark, and finally the film began.
More than a thousand people would watch the 1 hour and 40 minutes of the movie at the Eccles Theatre. Among the audience were not only general attendees but critics from various outlets: journalists from IndieWire, Collider, Variety, The Hollywood Reporter, content creators specializing in reviews, and even critics affiliated with Rotten Tomatoes.
'It's finally starting…' thought the man seated in row eight, a small notebook in hand.
His name was Daniel. Mid-thirties. A critic for IndieWire.
He had expectations. But also questions.
He had come primarily for one name: Owen Ashford.
The story of the young writer-actor-producer who had sold a multimillion-dollar IP and placed two short films at Sundance, among other achievements, was too striking to ignore. His own outlet had been one of the most complimentary, even calling him an indie genius after his horror film made for just twenty thousand dollars.
But Daniel had reservations about Owen.
As a writer, there was no debate.
As a strategist and producer, none either.
But as an actor… there he allowed himself to doubt.
Owen's résumé was composed almost entirely of projects he had written himself. In Paranormal Activity, it had worked, yes, but it was found-footage horror. Lots of subjective camera work. A great deal of naturalism supported by the format. In the short films where he acted, there had been less than ten minutes of real screen exposure.
Could he carry a coming-of-age drama for an hour and forty minutes?
Many were already comparing him to Timothée Chalamet. Daniel thought that was exaggerated.
An indie genius in terms of business vision and narrative, perhaps.
As an actor? He needed more proof.
And tonight, he was going to get it. Even if it was just one film.
The movie opened with Sutter's voice-over, played by Owen. He was shown sitting at his computer, writing a college application letter.
In the letter, Sutter described himself as the life of the party, someone who never missed one. He claimed to have a great relationship with his girlfriend. It was clear he was a popular, charming, slightly arrogant guy with no clear goals and an obvious relationship with alcohol. He wasn't entirely likable. But that was intentional.
Daniel already knew that. He had seen the teaser A24 released in early January. Sixty-five well-edited seconds, designed to build anticipation without revealing too much.
And it worked.
For a film under five million dollars, the teaser had reached 11.4 million views in just over two weeks. An unusual number for A24 in that budget range.
That explained why the premiere had turned into an event. A packed house. So many critics and photographers.
The momentum was real.
Part of it came from Owen. Part from the phenomenon he had been building. And part, inevitably, from the Jenna Ortega boom.
Daniel shifted in his seat.
'They really got lucky…' he thought.
A24 had cast Jenna before her worldwide popularity exploded. Her current rate wasn't the same as when she signed onto the project. Now the marketing practically handled itself: two leads with strong narratives at exactly the right moment.
But marketing wasn't what Daniel was evaluating.
On screen, the story moved forward.
Sutter continued narrating his carefree view of life, until his girlfriend broke up with him.
Not because of betrayal or scandal, but something simpler: he had no direction.
The breakup wasn't overly dramatized. Afterward, Sutter went out partying again, drank too much, and ended up passing out.
There was a cut to black, and the title appeared on screen.
[The Spectacular Now.]
Those were the first five minutes.
Daniel hadn't written much down yet, but he already had a clear first impression: Owen was holding the character naturally. There was no overacting.
Nothing extraordinary yet, it was only five minutes in, and there hadn't been any truly complex scenes, but he had achieved something important: Sutter was somewhat unlikable, and that was exactly the reaction the character was meant to provoke.
The next scene opened with a shift in tone.
Natural light. Birds chirping. The sun filtering softly through the lens in an almost ethereal shot, as a girl leaned slightly forward into frame.
[Hey…] called Jenna Ortega's character, Aimee, for the second time. [Hello?]
The shot changed.
Sutter was lying on the grass, face up, arms stretched out to his sides, as if he had landed there without realizing it.
[I thought for a second you might be dead,] she said, sighing in relief when he finally stirred.
[I don't think I'm dead…] Sutter muttered, his voice rough, mouth dry, pushing himself up with difficulty.
Daniel raised an eyebrow. The detail in the voice, that slightly cracked, hungover tone, was very well done. Not exaggerated. Just right.
[Where the hell am I?] Sutter asked, looking around, still confused.
[Um… you're in the middle of a yard. Do you know who lives here?] Aimee replied, scratching her head.
The scene continued as a casual encounter. Aimee explained that she was delivering newspapers and introduced herself, mentioning they went to the same high school. She clearly knew who Sutter was.
He, on the other hand, had no idea who she was.
Later, not knowing where his car was, Sutter offered to help her with the deliveries: he would toss the newspapers while they drove around the neighborhood looking for clues about his car.
Aimee hesitated for a second, then agreed.
As she drove, Sutter threw the papers with surprising accuracy, which impressed her slightly. He explained that he had played baseball in middle school and had been pretty good at it.
Daniel wrote in his notebook: Good chemistry. Natural first interaction.
The dialogue didn't feel forced. There was no artificial exposition. No deep trauma being revealed three minutes in, no improbable confessions exchanged. It was a light conversation.
And then he realized something: Sutter was starting to grow on him.
That surprised him.
In just a few minutes, the character who had initially provoked rejection was beginning to show layers. There wasn't a sharp turn or an obvious "humanizing" moment. It was small gestures: the way he listened to Aimee without interrupting her, the way he offered to help, how he adjusted his tone when he noticed she was more reserved. He wasn't a jerk.
Not the exaggerated, almost caricatured popular kid that so many teen films tend to portray. There was no performative arrogance.
He was simply more realistic.
After years of hyper-dramatic or overacted teen series and films, one expected the "party-loving popular guy" to have more exaggerated scenes.
For Daniel, the minutes began to pass faster than he had expected. At times, he even forgot to take notes. He just watched.
Both leads' performances were solid. Jenna's was in line with what she had already demonstrated in other dramas.
But what surprised him most was Owen.
There was something about his performance that didn't feel calculated. He didn't seem to be trying to prove that he could act. He wasn't forcing depth. He simply existed within the character, as if the role fit him naturally.
And if there was something that truly elevated the film, it was the chemistry between them. It wasn't explosive or melodramatic. It was believable and everyday.
And the script offered a surprisingly realistic romance. That was precisely what made it work.
'It's an honest look at the typical teenager,' Daniel thought when the film had already passed its halfway point.
It didn't idealize. It didn't exaggerate.
When the story entered its final stretch, Daniel was no longer asking himself whether Owen could carry a drama.
The answer, at least that night, seemed to be yes.
Even so, his critical mind didn't shut off entirely. One doubt lingered: Owen had written the script himself. Perhaps the character fit so well because he had used parts of himself to build it. Maybe Sutter felt so natural because Owen understood him from the inside.
Still, the film ended up being a surprise in every sense. It delivered on all fronts.
When it reached the end, the room stayed silent for a few seconds. Then the applause erupted.
Daniel was among the first to clap and stand up. Several around him followed suit, and little by little the rest joined in until the entire theater was on its feet.
Sundance wasn't exaggerated like Cannes, with endless ten- or twelve-minute standing ovations.
But this was a good sign.
When the applause finally died down, Owen, Jenna, and the team went back up on stage.
Unlike the quick interviews in the press line, the questions here were longer and more thoughtful.
The moderator opened the floor, and a journalist in the front rows raised his hand.
"Hi, Richard Rosen from The Hollywood Reporter. Great directing work."
"Thank you very much," Elijah replied, leaning slightly closer to the microphone.
"What was it like working with a script you didn't write? We know your previous film was entirely authored by you. Were there many rewrites?"
Richard knew that Elijah was considered a relatively new director, with only one prior feature, and he had written that one himself.
Elijah took a second before answering.
"It was easier than I expected, I have to say," he replied with a calm smile. "The script, and Cristian can confirm this, was in a very solid state when it came to me."
He glanced at Cristian, who nodded from his seat on stage.
"The rewrites were minimal," Elijah continued. "Pacing adjustments, small nuances in certain scenes so they aligned better with the visual tone I wanted to build. But the emotional structure was already there. My job was more executive in that sense, and to guide the actors so the naturalism of the script remained intact."
A murmur of approval moved through part of the room.
Then a journalist a few rows back raised her hand.
"Hi, my name is Laura Méndez from Screen Narrative Weekly. My question is for Jenna."
"Hi," Jenna replied with a slight smile as the microphone was passed to her.
"Your character is much more restrained than Sutter. How did you approach that contrast without making Aimee seem like just the typical shy girl of the genre?"
Jenna leaned slightly toward the mic.
"That was something I wanted to avoid from the start," she answered calmly. "Aimee isn't just shy. She's observant and quiet by nature. She has a very clear inner world, even if she doesn't always express it. I worked a lot on the pauses… on what she doesn't say."
The journalist nodded and followed up, "And what was it like working with Owen?"
Jenna raised an eyebrow almost imperceptibly. It was a predictable question. In any film with romance, sooner or later the conversation turned to the chemistry between the leads. The irony was that, in this case, the answer had more layers than the audience imagined.
But no one knew that.
"Very good," she replied naturally. "Honestly, he was one of the best scene partners I've had. Very professional, prepared, and he lived up to his nickname."
She paused briefly and added, glancing at him sideways, "The indie genius."
The room reacted with laughter and applause.
Owen made a theatrical gesture of resignation, as if the nickname followed him even onto the stage. He leaned slightly toward the microphone.
"I want to make it clear that I do not endorse that nickname. I am not a genius," he said, prompting another wave of laughter.
Then he added, "Even if I might seem like Sutter at first, I do try to be a good scene partner."
The laughter gradually settled, and the moderator looked back toward the audience.
In row eight, Daniel raised his hand and was handed a microphone.
"Daniel Wilson, IndieWire," he introduced himself. "You mentioned that you might seem like Sutter. How much of the character is based on you? Is he a version of you in high school, or is he entirely fictional?"
There was a small murmur in the room. It was a good question.
"Yes and no," Owen replied.
He paused briefly, organizing his thoughts.
"Yes, in the sense that in high school I was also pretty much a party guy. I liked going out and being in the middle of things. But unlike Sutter, I already had a pretty clear goal. I wanted to act. That was always there."
He paused again before continuing. "Now, Sutter's entire family background is completely different from mine. I didn't base that on myself. For example, the character's father isn't based on mine," he added in a slightly lighter tone. "My dad, who didn't come tonight, isn't absent because he abandoned me, it's because he has work."
Many couldn't help but laugh at the way he phrased it.
"And the same goes for Holly, Sutter's older sister," Owen added. "Holly gives pretty wise advice. In my case, it's the opposite. I have a younger sister who's here tonight, and she would never give me wise advice. I'm the one trying to give it to her, even if she doesn't listen."
The room burst into laughter again. From her seat, Sarah clenched her fist but couldn't stop herself from smiling.
"So yes, there are personality traits, of course. But the emotional arc and the deeper conflict of the character are not autobiographical," Owen concluded.
Daniel nodded slightly from his seat, satisfied with the answer.
After the questions from journalists representing well-known outlets, questions from the audience followed. The exchange ended up lasting almost thirty-five minutes.
When it was over, people began filing out of the theater.
'It was a good reception,' Owen thought, satisfied, as he walked down the stairs toward the lobby.
Up until this moment, there had been a certain level of doubt surrounding his acting ability. After this screening, those doubts began to fade.
He was no longer simply "the actor who performs well in what he writes himself." Now he was a credible leading man within a production backed by a recognized company.
And what was coming next would be even more demanding.
Good Will Hunting was a more serious drama, less gentle than The Spectacular Now. Those who had read the script knew it. And when they compared both projects, they would notice the difference in tone and depth.
Owen didn't mind being underestimated. He knew exactly what his acting level was, and he was confident that public perception would shift little by little.
As for Jenna's performance, it was also well received. Less surprising, perhaps, because she had already been seen in similar emotional registers in The Fallout.
In her case, it wasn't a revelation, it was confirmation.
But what people talked about most as they left the theater wasn't an individual performance. It was the chemistry between the two of them. The naturalness. Their glances. The shared rhythm in the more intimate scenes.
And that chemistry had been further reinforced during the Q&A, how they joked with a level of ease that's hard to fake, how they smiled at exactly the right moment when the other was speaking.
At a festival like Sundance, where audiences are particularly sensitive to anything artificial, those details don't go unnoticed.
Of course, no one thought there was anything serious between them. No one imagined that behind that measured comfort and controlled banter there was something more intimate.
And so, Owen's second day at the Sundance Film Festival came to an end.
The next morning, Owen woke up early.
Still in the hotel bed, he grabbed his phone almost by reflex, to answer messages and check whether any reviews of the film had already been published.
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