Around nearly midnight, Owen, Matt, and the rest were already at the Wallis Annenberg Center in Beverly Hills.
They had left the ceremony behind, the stage, and were now in a different kind of environment. The party organized by Vanity Fair, the famous Oscar Party.
It wasn't an official Academy event, but in practice, that meant nothing. It was the most exclusive of the night.
There was a mix that was hard to replicate anywhere else: winners, nominees, well-known actors, directors, musicians, and businessmen. Many people who hadn't even been at the ceremony. All gathered in the same space.
"The elite party, guys…" Tyler murmured, with a mix of nervousness and excitement, walking alongside Owen, Matt, and Eric as he looked around attentively.
It wasn't a loud or chaotic party. It was elegant and controlled. Waiters constantly moved around with trays of cocktails, champagne glasses, and small gourmet dishes, stopping just long enough to offer them before continuing on their way. The music was soft, just background, enough to set the atmosphere without interfering with what mattered.
Because what mattered wasn't dancing or going wild like in a normal nightclub.
What mattered was talking. Conversations were the center of everything. Small groups of people exchanging ideas, restrained laughter, greetings, and introductions. Real networking. Contacts. Projects that could start right there, in the middle of what seemed like a casual conversation.
"Yeah… let's just hope we don't see any satanic ritual or anything," Eric said with a crooked smile, looking around.
"Shh, dude!" Tyler cut him off immediately, lowering his voice and glancing around as if someone might have heard him. "If they hear you, we'll become targets. We're outsiders here."
Eric let out a short laugh. "Relax."
"You are really nervous," Sophie commented from the side, watching him with a small smile.
Just then, a waiter passed nearby with a tray. Sophie casually reached out, took a cocktail, and handed it to him.
"Here. Drink a little and calm down."
Tyler accepted it almost instantly. "Thanks," he said, taking a short sip.
But his eyes didn't stop moving. They kept darting from one place to another.
"Let's go over there," Owen said, making a slight gesture with his head toward one of the side tables, covered with an impeccable tablecloth and still free, with a neat selection of untouched small dishes and glasses.
They headed there without rushing. It was one of the few spaces momentarily cleared.
Tyler, now a bit looser, the cocktail helping, pulled out his phone almost by instinct. He checked the frame, adjusted for the light, and seeing they were isolated enough to record without interruption, turned on the camera.
"Any words for the winners' video?" he asked, pointing directly at Owen and Matt, each holding their Oscar.
They had brought their Oscars here by protocol. If it had been up to them, they would've left them in the car. But they couldn't. Before entering, they had already gone through another photo session, and as winners it was almost mandatory to pose with their Oscars. And inside the event, it was still part of the moment.
Besides, deep down, it felt good. Out of more than a hundred guests there, they were part of the small group holding a statuette in their hands.
Matt reacted first. "Very happy!" he said, slightly raising the Oscar with a wide smile. "It's going straight to the display case at the Second Take offices."
Tyler made a small approving gesture behind the phone.
Owen spoke next. "Yeah, hopefully these are the first of many," he said with a slight smile.
"Congratulations, guys. You're the future of cinema," Eric added, adopting an exaggeratedly solemn tone as he stepped forward to get into frame.
Matt didn't take long to play along. "Thank you, thank you… we hope to live up to it," he replied in an overly elegant, almost caricature-like tone, slightly bowing his head.
Tyler let out a quiet laugh.
"I've read somewhere…" Eric continued, looking at Owen, "that you were confident about winning the Oscar. Or rather, absolutely confident. Something you said on ABC?"
Owen didn't deny it. "Yes, I said we would win."
Matt turned his head toward Owen. "I knew you'd say something like that, and on national television too."
"If we hadn't won, it would've looked really bad," Tyler commented, slightly amused.
"I just showed confidence in our work," Owen justified. "Besides, we won, so it didn't look bad. Next question."
The conversation went on a bit longer, light, without a fixed direction. Between jokes, offhand comments, and the constantly shifting atmosphere around them, the minutes passed.
At one point, Owen took a couple of steps back, pulled out his phone, and went straight to answering messages, there were quite a few. From his parents, his brother, his sister-in-law, his sister, and also from Jenna. He replied to the others first, then opened hers.
[Jenna: Congratulations! We watched the whole ceremony with Juan Antonio, he's proud of you 😭]
The message came with a photo.
Owen opened it.
Jenna was sitting on the couch, in casual home clothes, the living room dimly lit only by the glow of the TV. Between her legs, a tub of ice cream. At her side, the cat, Juan Carlos, curled up as if he had been watching everything too.
Owen couldn't help but smile. He zoomed in slightly, studying the image for a couple of seconds.
It was a shame she wasn't there. But she wasn't nominated, nor presenting. She was coming off Wednesday, yes, with rising fame, but still not fully integrated into that specific film circle. And beyond that, Owen knew Jenna hadn't even wanted to go.
She preferred to rest. Besides, even if she had managed to get an invitation to the post-Oscars party, she wouldn't have had a clear circle to move within there. And staying too close to Owen, in a place like that, with so many watchful eyes, would've been enough to raise more than a few suspicions.
Owen began typing to reply, [Thanks, I'm glad you both got to see my moment of glory. Did my speech move you? And I didn't know you used emojis now, did Juan Antonio cry?]
[And by the way, save me some ice cream.]
The message was read almost instantly. The three dots appeared, then the reply came.
[Jenna: A particular speech. More than moving me, you made me laugh in some parts. Luckily you didn't say anything cancelable.]
Owen smiled slightly, and another message appeared.
[Jenna: My use of emojis is completely sarcastic. And Juan Carlos hasn't unlocked the ability to cry yet. But when you appeared on screen, he started purring. Which, considering he recognized you from the TV, is huge.]
Owen typed quickly, sending a message before she could continue, [It's an honor. I should reward Juan Antonio with some kind of gift.]
[Jenna: You should. I already saved ice cream in your favorite flavor, and I want something in return.]
Owen raised an eyebrow, [What do you want?]
Jenna didn't take long to respond, [A selfie of you with the Oscar, but not a normal one. Make a funny face, something exclusive for me.]
Owen let out a soft exhale through his nose as he looked up for a second.
Matt, Tyler, Eric, and Sophie were distracted, deep in a conversation about the food, debating something with absolute seriousness. No one was paying attention to him.
It was the perfect moment. 'I'm an actor. This should be easy,' Owen thought.
Even so, he didn't step into the center or raise the phone in an obvious way. He shifted slightly, turning his body a bit, looking for a more discreet angle. He held the Oscar at chest height, tilting it just enough to catch the light cleanly.
He raised his phone and, for a fraction of a second, tried an expression.
Not something ridiculous. More like an exaggerated, contained surprise, as if he still couldn't quite believe what he was holding.
Click, and he checked the photo.
The lighting was good, the framing clean, the Oscar standing out, and the expression different enough to work.
He sent it. There wasn't an immediate response, though Jenna had seen it, she was probably analyzing the photo.
Until she finally replied, [I like it. It's not a totally funny or ridiculous expression, but it is something you wouldn't normally do. Don't send it or post it anywhere. It's mine.]
Owen chuckled under his breath. 'That sounds like a threat,' he thought, amused.
[Owen: It's exclusively yours.]
Owen slipped his phone back into his pocket naturally, as if nothing had happened, and rejoined the group, focusing again on the party and its main objective: networking. At least a little.
Though, in reality, he didn't have to try too hard. His situation was pretty good.
The level of attention he was receiving wasn't common. It wasn't overwhelming or intrusive, but it was constant. Every few minutes, two, five, someone new approached. Congratulations on the Oscar, comments about Paperman, or remarks about what he had said on ABC about Cannes.
Some limited themselves to a handshake and moved on.
Others stayed to talk. Matt usually joined in those cases, moving with ease.
At one point, Owen found himself with someone familiar: Ethan Hawke, who was accompanied by his daughter, Maya Hawke.
Owen greeted him with familiarity. They had spent time together during the filming of Good Will Hunting, enough for the conversation to flow without the need for formalities.
As they talked, Owen couldn't help but notice the detail. 'Another person from the Stranger Things cast,' he thought.
It was curious, he had already interacted with Gaten Matarazzo and Caleb McLaughlin. To the point where Gaten was already a friend, and Caleb was on his way to becoming one.
He had also met Natalia Dyer, who in the series played Mike's older sister. She had been close to landing the lead role in Lights Out before it ultimately went to Anya.
In this world, Stranger Things didn't exist, and that had changed the fate of everyone involved. Some careers had taken more complicated paths, less direct ones, without that massive push.
With exceptions like Millie Bobby Brown and Sadie Sink.
The latter, in fact, had recently gained significant momentum. She had been part of The Whale, a film that that very night had taken home two Oscars, including Best Actor.
Were these signs that he should bring Stranger Things into existence? He had considered it before, but ended up postponing it.
He pushed those thoughts aside, returning to the conversation with Ethan, naturally picking up the thread.
Later on, together with Matt, they approached a group of people. Four older men stood talking with drinks in hand, in a calm tone, almost detached from the rest of the party's movement. Among them were Steven Spielberg and John Williams.
Matt was the first to step forward, with a clear mix of respect and contained enthusiasm. Owen followed, though there was visible nervousness in him as well.
At least much more than he had shown all night.
Matt politely asked for a photo. Spielberg agreed without any issue, as did Williams.
After that, they exchanged a few words. Brief, direct comments, making clear, without exaggeration, the level of admiration they felt. Without sounding overly flattering. Almost as quickly as they had arrived, they stepped away, without interrupting more than necessary.
As they moved a few steps away, the small circle closed again.
Spielberg followed them with his gaze for a moment, a slight smile that didn't quite fade. "Curious," he commented, turning his head slightly toward the others. "They looked more nervous now than when they went up to receive the Oscar."
Williams let out a soft, almost restrained laugh. "Yes. On stage they were completely at ease, especially that kid, Owen."
One of the others present, drink in hand, added casually, "I heard that on the red carpet, in an interview, he said he wants to take his next film to Cannes."
Another nodded, as if confirming it. "Yeah, I saw the clip on my phone on the way here. It didn't sound like a possibility, it sounded more like something obvious."
Spielberg kept his gaze for a few seconds in the direction where Owen and Matt had disappeared into the crowd, thoughtful.
"That's good," he finally said. "He trusts his work."
Spielberg lightly rested the glass against his palm, still thinking about it.
A twenty-one-year-old kid, with a freshly won Oscar, financing his own projects, writing his own scripts, and talking about Cannes as a logical next step.
'It would be interesting to work with him,' Spielberg thought.
Spielberg rarely wrote the screenplays for his films. He preferred to collaborate, to build upon others' work, taking control from the directing and producing side. Only in very personal cases, like The Fabelmans, had he taken on that full role.
Even so, despite not writing the scripts, many of his films came from his own concepts, childhood fears, or personal ideas, like E.T.
As the night went on, the exact kind of people Owen had expected began to approach.
Not in a chaotic or obvious way, but with that industry rhythm, almost strategic.
Studio people, and not just anyone: people with decision-making power and the real ability to move projects forward.
What he had said on ABC, that he wanted to take Good Will Hunting to Cannes, had been too clear a signal to go unnoticed. And now, with the Oscar in his hand, everything was being reinterpreted under a different light.
It was no longer just confidence. It was validation. He was starting to be seen not only as a young actor or producer, but as someone with real potential to tell stories that could compete for awards.
David, from A24, was one of the first to reappear. He approached with the same confidence as before, but with a different nuance. There was no rush in his words, but there was a contained urgency. He said he wanted to talk during the week, and that, as they had already mentioned, they wanted to see the first cut.
Owen accepted without hesitation and noticed the shift. Before, it had been interest. Now, it was priority.
Not long after, someone from Neon approached him.
Neon, founded by Tom Quinn and Tim League in 2017, had a very clear profile within the industry: distribution of films with awards ambition and a strong presence at festivals. Their strongest calling card was obvious: Parasite, the South Korean film that had won Best Picture at the Oscars, among many other awards, was still far too big a reference to ignore.
The conversation was longer and more specific, revolving around festivals, positioning, and international rollout. They didn't talk about direct acquisitions or numbers at that moment. They talked strategy. And, as with A24, they agreed on the same thing: seeing the first cut.
Another name joined the list.
The third so far.
The first had been A24 and Focus Features. The latter, an independent film production and distribution company backed by Universal Pictures, offered: solid structure, guaranteed international distribution, and experience in prestige projects. Its track record included commercial successes like Downton Abbey, which had reached around 195 million dollars at the global box office.
Then another arrived, one that stood out above the rest:
Searchlight Pictures.
For Owen, it was a surprise. Not because they wouldn't be interested, simply because he hadn't expected them that same night, even after what he had said just hours earlier.
Searchlight wasn't just any studio. It was Disney's specialized division focused on independent and awards-driven cinema. A studio practically built for that kind of film. Its track record backed it up decisively: titles like Birdman, 12 Years a Slave, among others, and a collection of more than 45 Academy Awards, over 25 Golden Globes, and more than 50 BAFTAs.
The conversation was different from the start. More focused on the film's real potential within awards season. There was no need to sell themselves too much, not with that track record behind them. They knew what they were doing.
Owen was satisfied. It was no longer just a series of meetings. It was a competition. Which, for him, meant getting a better deal.
Amid that constant flow of conversations and new faces, he ran into Jacob Elordi again. The greeting was immediate and natural. A brief hug, both smiling.
They had spent enough time together during the filming of Good Will Hunting to already consider each other friends, at least in the early stages.
"What's up, winner?" Jacob said with a smile.
Owen smiled back and started talking with him. Then he introduced him to the rest: Matt, Tyler, Eric, and Sophie.
They were surprised, it was the cool guy from Euphoria.
Even more surprising was his personality: approachable and relaxed. No star attitude at all, and he and Owen clearly got along well—they had already heard a bit about that.
After a moment, Jacob looked at Owen.
"I was just talking to Zendaya," he said, as if mentioning something minor. "She asked about you. She seemed curious about your whole story. Said if you were around, she wanted to meet you."
Owen raised an eyebrow slightly. "Sure, why not."
He turned his head toward the others, as if checking whether they wanted to follow.
He didn't need to say anything. The responses were immediate.
Matt nodded.
Tyler and Eric straight up took a step forward.
Sophie smiled nervously, more than the others, since she admired Zendaya a lot.
"Follow me," Jacob said, and they started moving through the crowd, weaving between groups.
Jacob walked ahead, talking to Owen as if nothing.
Behind them, the group followed. Tyler leaned slightly toward Matt and Eric, lowering his voice.
"If Zendaya's there… the chances that Spider-Man is there are high."
Eric nodded, looking around. "Yeah, I didn't see him, but this place is huge, he could be."
Sophie looked at them, somewhere between confused and amused. "You mean Tom Holland?"
They both nodded at the same time.
Sophie shook her head lightly. "Call him by his name. Not Spider-Man."
There wasn't much time to argue.
They had arrived.
Zendaya was standing in one of the most visible areas of the venue, impeccably dressed, surrounded by a small group that clearly orbited around her.
By her side was Tom Holland. More reserved. It was noticeable even without knowing him well. He didn't avoid conversation, but he didn't actively seek it either. His posture, the way he listened more than he spoke, matched what was already known about him from interviews. That kind of environment wasn't exactly his favorite.
When Jacob arrived with Owen beside him, something shifted immediately.
The attention turned toward them.
Not just because of Jacob.
Because of Owen.
And because of the Oscar in his hand, which under that elegant lighting did not go unnoticed at all.
The introductions were quick, without stiffness. Matt and the others joined in, integrating into the group with relative ease.
Owen noticed the way Zendaya, and some of the actors and actresses around her, addressed him.
It wasn't obvious, but it didn't go unnoticed. It was probably due to the creative power he carried, and the fact that he generated projects.
For actors, that carried weight.
It wasn't uncommon to see actors seeking those kinds of connections, making a good impression, building something small that, at another time, could turn into an opportunity.
What was striking, though, was that someone like Zendaya did the same, a tier A star, one of the most famous actresses in the world right now.
Tom, on the other hand, remained more reserved. Polite and present, but without that same initiative-driven energy.
The conversation naturally split into smaller groups.
Matt, Tyler, and Eric ended up talking with Tom, and within minutes, something shifted. They started with light, almost random comments about comics and superheroes, and that was enough. Tom opened up. He talked more, leaning into that kind of specific, almost nerdy conversation that seemed to pull him out of the formality of the setting.
They talked about absurdly specific things. Where the webbing comes from.
Different versions of the character.
Details no one else at that party would be discussing.
'These guys can become friends with the most introverted person in five minutes,' Owen thought with a slight smile, as he continued chatting with Zendaya, Jacob Elordi, Sophie, and the others.
Though his mind was also somewhere else. On his first TV series: Friends.
He needed five main actors. Two men and three women.
Two guys, since he would act as one of the leads. He was between Ross or Chandler.
Ross was the axis. Chandler was the one that attracted him more as an actor.
Joey, on the other hand, didn't quite convince him for himself.
If he thought about casting Joey right now, he'd think of Jacob, or even Tom Holland, seeing him now.
And having Zendaya in front of him, he imagined her as Phoebe. Just to test whether it would work or not. Also, for diversity.
Even if Friends didn't exist in this world as a reference, he knew how the industry worked. A cast without diversity would still be questioned. Not because of comparison, but because of the current context.
Still, the next thought came immediately.
The cost.
Zendaya and Tom Holland. Two A-list names. Extremely expensive, and as a couple, maybe even more because of the combo.
How much would they ask per episode? It would be the most expensive sitcom in history.
Owen returned to the present without it showing, maintaining the conversation, nodding slightly at something Zendaya was saying.
The night kept moving forward. It had been more fun than Owen would've imagined in an environment like that. There had been networking, yes, and good networking. But experiencing it with friends made it enjoyable.
He had also met interesting people. Some more genuine than one would expect at that kind of event, like Tom or Zendaya, with whom conversation flowed without that constant layer of superficiality. Others were more professional, producers and executives who were there with a clear objective: connect and negotiate.
At some point, Jacob had fully integrated into the group and didn't separate for the rest of the night. Tom also stayed with them for quite a while, thanks to Eric, Tyler, and Matt, though eventually he returned to his own circle.
When the clock started getting close to four thirty in the morning, they decided it was time to leave. Besides, they were actually hungry.
So, between laughs and comments slightly dragged down by exhaustion, they decided to do the most logical thing possible at that moment:
Go to a 24/7 McDonald's.
As they walked toward Owen's car, still dressed in formal attire, the complaints started.
"I'm starving. Those dishes did nothing, and I ate more than ten," Tyler muttered.
"That wasn't food, those were samples," Matt added.
"Hey, don't criticize gourmet food," Eric suddenly cut in, adopting a serious, almost academic tone. "It's small mainly to concentrate intense flavors, allow the tasting of multiple dishes without extreme fullness, and justify the high cost of exclusive ingredients and culinary technique."
There was a second of silence.
Jacob looked at him, amused, with that slight smile he already had after several cocktails.
"Where did you get that from?" he asked. "Wikipedia?"
Laughter broke out.
"It's general knowledge," Eric replied, half offended.
"Sure," Tyler muttered.
Minutes later, they arrived.
Owen's BMW stopped in front of the McDonald's. They got out one by one, still in their suits, though slightly disheveled after the night.
Owen and Matt carried their statuettes out of inertia more than anything else.
They walked through the double doors. The place was practically empty.
Just one girl at the counter. McDonald's cap, standard uniform. She had her elbow resting on the counter, her head leaning on her hand, while with the other she scrolled through her phone next to the register.
The sound of the door made her look up. At first, she didn't react. She just saw a group of five men dressed way too elegantly for that place.
She blinked, then realized. Her eyes widened instantly. First when she saw the two golden statuettes. Unmistakable. Her mind did the rest.
The ceremony. A few hours ago. She recognized Owen and Matt immediately.
The winners who gave that speech that, if she was honest, she thought was the best of the night.
And then Jacob. She didn't need more than half a second. Her expression changed completely.
This was no longer just surprise. It was a fangirl trying to process too much in too little time.
"I already texted Caleb and Gaten, they're on their way," Jacob said casually as they walked up to the counter.
Owen let out a quiet chuckle under his breath. "Yeah, they've got a lot of free time," he said, amused.
They stopped at the counter, and Owen casually set the statuette down on the surface.
The contrast was absurd. The real Oscar, bright and unmistakable, resting in a nearly empty McDonald's at four-thirty in the morning.
The girl stared at it, as if needing to confirm it wasn't a replica, then looked up.
Owen was already looking at the menu with a level of focus that didn't fit the situation at all. As if none of this was strange.
"Uh… yeah, I'll get a Big Mac, large fries, and…" Owen started placing his order.
The girl didn't react.
Jacob tilted his head slightly, watching her for a second, then waved a hand in front of her face. "Hello? You okay?"
The girl blinked, snapping back. "Yes, yes, sorry," she said nervously, straightening up. "It's just, I'm a huge fan of both of you," she added, referring to Owen and Jacob.
Jacob raised his eyebrows slightly, surprised. "Oh yeah? Have you seen anything I've done?"
She nodded quickly, almost too quickly. "Yes, yes, of course. The Kissing Booth and Euphoria."
Jacob made a slight face at the first one.
Owen couldn't help but laugh, turning slightly toward him as he gave him a light pat on the back.
"You're lucky Gaten and Caleb or Emma aren't here right now," he said with a grin.
Jacob shook his head, resigned. "Want a photo?" he asked, looking at the girl.
She nodded immediately, almost too fast, already pulling out her phone, her hands still not fully steady. She took off her McDonald's cap, fixing her hair as best she could. Tyler grabbed the phone and positioned himself in front of them.
First, one with Jacob.
Then another with Owen.
Owen tilted his head slightly toward her, curious, with a half-smile.
"Are you actually a fan of mine, or are you just saying that to be polite?" he asked. "I'm not as famous as this guy."
The girl shook her head right away, almost offended. "I am. I loved Paperman and also The Black Hole. Paperman totally deserved the award. I also have tickets for The Spectacular Now."
Owen raised his eyebrows and nodded slowly. She wasn't lying.
Without thinking too much about it, he picked up the statuette from the counter and held it out to her.
"Here."
The girl looked at him, confused. "Can I…?"
"Yeah, to make the photo more memorable and get more likes," Owen replied.
'It's exactly like in his speech,' the girl thought as she took the Oscar.
There was no ceremony in the gesture. No exaggerated importance. He said it like someone lending any ordinary object, with that calm of his that seemed to take weight away even from something like an Oscar.
Tyler was already ready. "Ready..." he said.
Click.
The photo was taken.
They finally ordered their burgers and moved to a spacious table in front of the counter, not far from the register. It didn't take long before the girl showed up with everything.
Several trays with burgers, fries, and sodas. She even brought them to the table like a restaurant server. They tried to help her, but she wouldn't let them.
And at that moment, the door opened and finally Gaten and Caleb walked in. There were laughs and loud greetings as they arrived.
"Winners detected!" Gaten called out as soon as he saw them.
"¡Hey guys, what's up!" said Caleb
Handshakes with Owen, with Matt, quick greetings with everyone, jokes flying back and forth, and within seconds they were already sitting down, grabbing fries as if they hadn't eaten in days.
The table, which already had energy, became outright noisy.
Meanwhile, from the kitchen, two guys peeked out discreetly, watching the scene. They looked at the girl, then at the table, then at the Oscars.
She, without wasting time, proudly showed them her phone.
"Do you think they'd take a picture?" one of them asked.
The girl nodded. "Yeah, go," she said. "They're super nice."
They approached with some hesitation, but the response was immediate.
"Of course! Photos for everyone! I'm the director too!" Matt said enthusiastically.
There were individual photos, group photos, with the Oscars, with poses and weird expressions.
Tyler recorded everything, moving around with his phone, capturing every moment for the vlog.
"Damn, those cocktails really hit," Eric muttered, bringing a hand to his stomach and letting out a burp.
When they finished eating, the energy naturally started to drop. Out of exhaustion, the night had been very long.
Owen looked around, resting his elbows on the table.
"This McDonald's has pretty good customer service," he commented casually.
Then he pulled out his checkbook. He opened it calmly, setting it on the table as he wrote three times in a row.
He tore out the checks, stood up, and walked over to the counter.
The girl looked at him, confused.
Owen handed one to her, then did the same with the two guys at the counter.
"Thanks for serving us and putting up with us at five in the morning," Owen said.
The three of them looked at the paper, and then froze.
"Ten thousand dollars!?" one of them murmured, leaning in a bit to make sure he wasn't reading it wrong.
And it was ten thousand dollars each.
"Are you serious…?" the other managed to say, still trying to process it.
Owen nodded, as if there was nothing unusual about it. "Bye, thanks."
He turned around without waiting for a reaction. Behind him, the reaction was immediate, whistles and applause.
"That's it!" Tyler said.
Jacob laughed, shaking his head.
When the group finally started moving toward the exit, gathering their things, the Oscars, the jackets…
The girl watched them leave and couldn't help but say it out loud, "If all actors were like this, it would be incredible."
And just like that, the Oscars night came to an end.
Owen drove each of them home. Matt, as usual, ended up at his apartment. When they arrived, he dropped onto the couch as if all the exhaustion from the day had suddenly hit him at once.
"Love you, man… tonight was legendary," he muttered, his face completely buried in the cushion.
The excitement, the long hours, and the cocktails all caught up with him at the same time.
Owen chuckled under his breath, grabbed a blanket, and tossed it to him so he'd have something to cover himself with. After that, he went to his room and collapsed onto his bed just as exhausted.
Two days passed. On March 14, the premiere of The Spectacular Now arrived at the TCL Chinese Theatre. The usual dynamic: red carpet, flashes, and quick interviews. Jenna by his side, dressed for the occasion.
The first number was very strong. The opening at the Chinese Theatre brought in 1.1 million dollars on its first day. That wasn't just any number for a film of that size, it was an excellent sign for A24.
The following days confirmed it wasn't a fluke. Before even reaching the weekend, in just three days, the film had already grossed 2.2 million.
But the real impact came on Friday: 3.4 million.
Saturday climbed even higher: 4 million.
And Sunday closed with 2.7 million.
A total of 10.1 million in its first weekend.
Adding the previous days, the total reached 12.3 million dollars in less than a week. For a film with a 4 million budget, it wasn't just a good start.
It was a success. And more than that, a success that was beginning to look like something bigger. It wasn't just doing well, it was shaping up to become a major commercial hit within its scale.
But it wasn't just the numbers, the critics were backing it up. On Rotten Tomatoes, reviews stayed above 90%, while audiences responded with over 85%. The chemistry between Owen and Jenna was at the center of the conversation. But something else that stood out strongly was Owen's performance.
Up to that point, the general perception of him had leaned elsewhere: the indie genius, the producer, the creator, the writer who had managed to break the system. Yes, also an actor, but without much material to truly showcase range. Paranormal Activity didn't demand that. It was horror, with a different approach. Paperman had been brilliant, but it didn't even reach ten minutes of runtime.
Here, it was different. In this film, he proved he could carry an entire movie as the lead. Not just be present, but carry the weight, set the rhythm, and hold scenes together.
And do it without being overshadowed by Jenna, who was coming off Wednesday with a very strong acting reputation. On the contrary, their dynamic elevated the result. They enhanced each other.
That began to change how people saw Owen.
Not just as a creator, but as a serious actor. And that worked perfectly in his favor. Because inevitably, the conversation was already moving ahead to his next step: Good Will Hunting. With this performance, with this reception, both the industry's and the audience's confidence in him as a leading actor was growing directly.
The days kept passing. While The Spectacular Now continued its strong run in theaters, in parallel, at a completely different pace, Derek kept working.
With an intensity that even Owen, who considered himself obsessive with work, found striking.
It wasn't just dedication. It was something else. Together with the editor, they fully immersed themselves in the first cut of Good Will Hunting.
It felt like Derek wanted to get to Cannes even more than he did.
Finally, they made it. On Sunday, March 26, around eight in the evening, the first cut was finished.
Owen didn't waste any time.
With the material ready, he moved straight into the next phase. He contacted the four studios that had already shown interest: A24, Neon, Focus Features, and Searchlight Pictures.
He coordinated the day and time. The day was the same for all of them: Tuesday, March 28. The times were different.
9:00 AM: Focus Features
12:30 PM: Neon
4:00 PM: A24
7:30 PM: Searchlight
At the offices of Second Take Films.
The next big moment was arriving. The first real reactions to Good Will Hunting.
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Link: https://[email protected]/Nathe07