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SH - Chapter 57: Premiere and opening weekend
🕑 Added 2025-11-09 17:16:06 +0000 UTCFinally, Sophie returned to Los Angeles with her mother. The filming of The Boogeyman had wrapped, and for the first time in weeks, she could finally breathe.
Owen went to pick them up at the airport.
The relationship between Owen and Margaret had changed a lot. There was no longer the same coldness or distance. The woman who had once watched him with suspicion now looked at him with a mix of respect and quiet admiration.
Over the past few months, Margaret had seen firsthand what Sophie had always told her: that Owen was focused, hardworking, and methodical. The results were obvious, he had produced several successful short films, two feature-length movies (one about to hit theaters), and had been cast in The Hunger Games, a globally recognized franchise.
And above all, he treated her daughter with affection and maturity. Although Margaret would never admit it openly, she had let her guard down.
“Wow, new car,” Sophie teased when she saw the shiny vehicle waiting outside.
“Yeah, well, I didn’t want us relying on Uber anymore,” Owen replied with a smile.
“Good decision,” Sophie nodded approvingly, she now officially had a private driver, a girlfriend privilege she fully intended to take advantage of.
“Looks expensive,” Margaret remarked, her financial-analyst mode switching on. “Sophie mentioned you also spent a lot on filming equipment, right?” she added, arching an eyebrow at him.
“Yeah… those are tools, everything I buy is an investment,” Owen said, trying to defend himself from a financial inquisition. His capital, which at its peak had been over $150,000, had dropped to around $100,000 after these purchases, a considerable expense, but an acceptable one.
Margaret nodded without criticizing his costly acquisitions. She knew Owen had a percentage of the box office from Paranormal Activity, he would earn a significant sum from that, probably at least half a million dollars.
As Owen drove down the freeway toward downtown Los Angeles, Sophie chatted non-stop, telling him funny on-set stories, improvisations, and long nights of filming. Some he had already heard before, but it was much more fun hearing them in person.
Owen listened attentively, responding with laughs and little side comments, it was clear how much he had missed her. He didn’t mind the repetition at all.
From the back seat, Margaret watched them, quietly happy to see her daughter’s joy, though she wouldn’t admit it. She cleared her throat softly. “You two have an interview and a photoshoot today,” she reminded them.
Sophie rolled her eyes dramatically. “Perfect. I just got off the plane and already have work.”
Even if she complained, she was thrilled. It meant spending the entire day with Owen and being one step closer to the premiere of her first big-screen movie.
“We’ve got time to grab a coffee and something to eat,” Owen said with a small smile. Sophie happily agreed, and they kept chatting.
Over the following ten days, the in-person promotion campaign for Paranormal Activity began.
There was already a digital push underway, but now came the most intense phase, press, cameras, and lights.
Owen and Sophie appeared together in the most prestigious outlets in the horror genre:
—Collider: one of the top film news and analysis platforms in the U.S., known for its exclusive interviews and festival coverage.
—Bloody Disgusting: the ultimate horror reference site, with millions of weekly readers.
—IndieWire: the go-to outlet for independent cinema, which highlighted the film as “one of the year’s most intriguing examples of minimalist horror.”
—And cult podcasts such as The Boo Crew and Post Mortem.
On TikTok, behind-the-scenes clips were racking up millions of views.
On YouTube, trailer breakdowns multiplied, and on Twitter, mentions exploded day after day, theories, reactions, memes, and a growing wave of anticipation that had already escaped the horror niche and reached the general public.
Owen saw a major spike across his own social media platforms, both personal and on his Second Take Films channel, thanks to this campaign.
A24 was thrilled. Less than twenty-four hours before the premiere, internal reports showed campaign performance far exceeding expectations.
With a $500,000 marketing budget, the company had achieved visibility comparable to much larger productions: high engagement, major media coverage, and genuine audience anticipation for the film’s release.
“Without a doubt, this will be the independent horror film of the year,” said Cristian, A24’s creative executive, as he gazed out his office window. Night was already falling over Los Angeles.
Tomorrow would be Thursday, September 1st, the premiere of Paranormal Activity. And on Friday, September 2nd, it would open in 500 theaters, entering its opening weekend.
“Yes,” Martha, the studio’s head of acquisitions and distribution, agreed. “Signing that deal with Owen was a great move.”
There was a note of pride in her voice.
She vividly remembered the debates at the executive table the day after they closed the deal with Owen. It had been an unusual contract: Owen retained 100% of the intellectual property and also secured 20% of post-theatrical profits.
For a debut filmmaker, that sounded nearly impossible. But given Owen’s roles as producer, writer, financier, and lead actor, it wasn’t unreasonable.
Many within the studio had thought it was a mistake, but now, no one doubted it had been the right call.
Cristian smiled. “Told you, Martha. Sometimes you’ve got to trust your instincts.”
A24’s projections for the opening weekend were solid:
Conservative: $1.2–1.5 million
Realistic: $1.8–2.3 million
Optimistic: $2.5–3.0 million
Even in the most modest scenario, $1.2 to $1.5 million, the numbers were strong.
Half would go to theaters (~$750,000), leaving the remaining $750,000 for A24.
From that amount, Owen would receive 20%, about $150,000, while A24 would keep $600,000.
That alone meant the studio would already turn a profit in its first weekend, even after deducting marketing expenses.
And that was only the beginning.
A24 estimated a minimum four-week theatrical run in the worst-case scenario. Their projection was six weeks, and if word of mouth held strong, it could extend to eight or even ten.
Financial risk was virtually nonexistent.
“Also,” Martha added, glancing at another document, “the early critical projections are excellent. The first reactions from Palm Springs and the YouTube breakdowns all agree, it’s going to get good reviews.”
“And that,” Cristian replied, “is worth gold to us. We’re a studio that thrives on prestige, but we still need hits to pay the bills.”
Both laughed knowingly.
A24 had always prioritized art over money, but they also knew that without money, art couldn’t exist. And Paranormal Activity promised to deliver both.
Cristian leaned back in his chair, recalling how it had all begun. “Who would’ve thought that while looking for the script of The Spectacular Now, I’d end up discovering a gem, and more importantly, meeting Owen.”
Martha nodded slowly. “Owen isn’t normal,” she said with conviction. “He’s different from other actors.”
Being a producer, writer, and financier already set him apart from the rest. He had essentially self-employed himself, and succeeded.
Paranormal Activity would almost certainly make him a millionaire before the year’s end. His profile was unusual in Hollywood, probably the only one of his kind at his age.
“He’s the kind of talent that doesn’t come around every year,” Cristian added. “And the best part is, he hasn’t even reached his ceiling yet.”
He already knew Owen was working on the post-production of another short film. A creative mind like his wouldn’t stay stuck on Paranormal Activity, he would keep creating, again and again.
Martha smiled faintly. “We’ll know tomorrow. If the audience reacts the way they did in Palm Springs, we’ll be making history.”
“By the way,” Martha added, “when does the casting for The Spectacular Now start? Will you offer the lead to Owen?”
A24 had acquired the full rights to the script at the beginning of July, and Cristian was now one of the main creative producers on the project.
The budget was locked at three million dollars, and just a week earlier, they had confirmed the director, chosen after several internal script readings.
“Of course we will,” Cristian replied, resting his elbows on the desk. “In fact, the director has already seen several of Owen’s works, and knowing he wrote the script, he practically considers him the natural lead.”
He paused, smiling mischievously. “Although we didn’t tell him that. We want him to go through a proper audition, to feel like he earned the role, not that it was handed to him.”
Martha chuckled. “Good strategy. That’ll motivate him even more.”
“Exactly. We’ll tell him between September 10th and 12th to come to the studio. If all goes well, we’ll close the deal those days,” Cristian explained, twirling a pen between his fingers.
“And the female lead? Do you have anyone in mind for Amy?” Martha asked, flipping through some pages.
Cristian sighed. “That’s the tricky part. Sophie is the natural choice, she has real chemistry with Owen, they connect on camera in a very organic way, and audiences already associate them together thanks to Paranormal Activity and Paperman. But the director… isn’t entirely convinced.”
“Why not?” asked Martha.
“He says she seems too confident, too radiant, for the role. Amy, on the other hand, is an introverted, quiet girl, the kind who goes unnoticed until someone really takes a closer look. Sophie has the opposite energy, magnetic, rebellious, and commanding,” Cristian said. “Of course, that doesn’t mean she can’t transform. She’s talented; she could absolutely pull it off with the right casting director and acting coach guiding her.”
They kept talking, working late, tomorrow would be an important day.
And so, the Paranormal Activity premiere arrived.
…
Thursday, September 1, 2022
Matt’s House – 5:30 p.m.
There was just an hour left before the official premiere began.
Owen had arrived at Matt’s house about twenty minutes earlier. He looked impeccable: dark suit, white shirt, formal shoes, no sneakers this time.
At Palm Springs, he’d kept his promise to wear a suit with his Jordans, but that had been a smaller event than tonight.
This night was different. A red carpet awaited them, cameras, flashes, live interviews, and an audience that included well-known critics.
Tonight, they were the stars.
He had picked Matt up not just because his friend didn’t have a car, but to make sure he didn’t have a panic attack just hours before the premiere.
Matt was ready too, dressed in a gray suit and dark tie.
The two were in the backyard, the same one where, months earlier, they had filmed part of the movie, tossing a baseball back and forth to calm their nerves.
“I still can’t believe our movie is premiering at the Egyptian Theatre,” Matt said, throwing the ball.
Owen caught it easily and smiled. “Yeah. The Grauman’s Egyptian Theatre, historic, iconic, newly restored, and with six hundred sixteen seats.”
He paused before throwing the ball back. “Almost the number of the devil.”
Matt let out a nervous laugh. “Did they tell you how many people are coming?”
“More or less,” Owen replied, with the precision of someone who had memorized A24’s entire plan. “About a hundred and fifty press and critics: Variety, IndieWire, Collider, LA Times, Deadline, Fangoria, Rotten Tomatoes... Then a hundred influencers and content creators, another hundred from the industry and studio, and the rest are personal guests and general audience.”
“So, a full house…” Matt murmured, swallowing hard.
Owen nodded. “Pretty much. Almost three times the size of the Palm Springs screening.”
The silence filled with the dry sound of the ball hitting their gloves.
“The short film One-Minute Time Machine comes out next week,” Owen said, changing the subject to distract him.
With a topic that excited him, Matt instantly came to life. The short, starring Sarah and Gaten, would likely be uploaded to YouTube between September 7 and 10, about three weeks of post-production.
Considering Paranormal Activity could be crushing it at the box office around that time, the short might reach record-breaking view numbers for their channel, which had just hit 200,000 subscribers two days ago.
After a while, Owen glanced at his watch. “We should get going.”
Matt nodded, took a deep breath, and set the baseball down on the patio table. The two headed for the car, still quiet but focused.
Matt’s parents followed in another vehicle, part of the invited guests. It was still hard for them to grasp: the movie their son had shot in his own home, on a shoestring budget, was now premiering at a historic Hollywood theater, with a red carpet, major press, and flashing cameras everywhere.
The drive was calm. The usual afternoon traffic in Los Angeles accompanied the quiet focus of the two.
Owen parked in the area reserved for cast and production, right behind an SUV. An assistant greeted them and went over the protocol, press credentials, order of entry, and the sequence for the red carpet.
The murmur of the crowd could be heard in the distance, blending with the ambient music playing through the event speakers. The atmosphere carried a mix of glamour, nerves, and contained excitement.
It didn’t take long for Owen to spot Sophie. She was wearing an elegant black dress, her hair loose over her shoulders, and her makeup was flawless. As soon as she saw him, she walked straight toward him and hugged him tightly.
“What took you so long?” Sophie asked, her tone nervous. She’d been waiting for him for five minutes already.
“I had to pick up Matt,” Owen replied. “Didn’t want him passing out before the premiere or driving his parents crazy on the way here.”
Sophie let out a small laugh, she knew that was entirely possible.
At that moment, they went over to greet Tyler and Eric, the small tech crew behind the film. Owen already considered them friends and colleagues.
The two supporting actors were there as well. Daniel, who played the psychic, was greeting everyone wide-eyed, completely amazed by the spectacle.
Alison, who played Katie’s friend, couldn’t stop taking pictures with her phone, as if she needed proof that it was all real.
None of them had ever imagined that a $20,000 project shot with such a small crew would go this far, much less that a studio like A24 would premiere it in a historic Hollywood theater, with over five hundred people in attendance, a red carpet, and the press waiting outside.
While A24 staff finished organizing the entry sequence, Owen looked up and spotted his family a few meters away.
They wouldn’t walk the red carpet, they’d be entering through a side access with the rest of the special guests.
His mother was the first to approach, tears welling up and a wide smile on her face. She hugged him tightly, as if still struggling to believe how fast her son was moving forward.
Sarah arrived right after, looking flawless, accompanied by her best friend Mia, who took everything in with wide eyes, full of awe, admiration, and perhaps something more toward Owen that showed in her gaze.
Edward gave him a strong hug, patting his back proudly.
James, his brother, shook his hand with a rare smile.
Emily, James’s wife, greeted him warmly, watching all the commotion with a mix of curiosity and excitement.
Just then, an assistant approached and said politely, “Mr. Ashford, we’re ready. The red carpet begins in three minutes.”
Owen said goodbye to his family. Along with Sophie, Matt, and Cristian, he headed to the press area. The lights were blinding, and the clicking of camera shutters mixed with the background music.
“I didn’t think I’d be on a red carpet this soon…” Matt muttered, nervously adjusting his tie in front of the flood of cameras, lights, and people behind the barricades.
“Just be yourselves,” Cristian said with a calm smile. For him, used to these events, the nervous trembling of the young filmmakers was completely normal. Even in Owen, he noticed a faint tension, unusual for someone who always seemed perfectly composed.
Owen and Matt exchanged a knowing glance. “If we’re ourselves, we’ll be canceled by tomorrow,” Matt whispered through his teeth.
Owen chuckled softly, he was probably right.
For the next thirty minutes, the three of them were the center of attention: Owen and Sophie as the leads, and Matt as the director. They walked past the panels with the movie logo, posed for official photos, and did a round of quick interviews, just two minutes each, for Variety, Collider, IndieWire, and Deadline.
Finally, it was time to enter the movie theater.
“It’s packed…” Matt whispered, staring at the more than five hundred people filling the seats, family, friends, familiar faces from the industry, critics, and complete strangers alike.
The lights dimmed.
Cristian Méndez briefly stepped onto the stage to welcome everyone and thank them for coming. Then he introduced Owen and Matt, who went up for just a few seconds amid applause.
Owen took the microphone, since Matt was far more nervous than he had been back at Palm Springs. There were no long speeches, in two minutes, they were back in their seats. The lights went out, a faint murmur spread through the theater, and then Paranormal Activity began.
The first few minutes were calm. The audience laughed at some of the early exchanges, which showcased strong chemistry between the leads and impressive acting. But as the story progressed, the laughter faded. With each passing night within the film, the tension mounted.
The audience was completely drawn in. By the final stretch, the atmosphere in the theater was thick, and then the ending arrived.
When Katie stepped out of the bedroom in the middle of the night, the sound design was so realistic that many in the audience instinctively leaned forward.
A blood-curdling scream filled the theater. Drake jolted awake, called out to her, and stepped out of the room to look for her.
A few seconds of silence, then shouts, a dull thud, and a sharp crash. Drake’s body flew toward the camera, knocking it to the floor.
Some spectators exhaled sharply; others covered their mouths, bracing for what was next.
Katie stepped back into frame, covered in blood. She moved slowly toward the camera, picked it up, and revealed her face, a chilling smile spreading across it.
Her lips, stained dark red, curved just slightly before her expression twisted. In a sudden, violent motion, she lunged at the lens.
The screen went black.
Absolute silence.
Then, white text appeared:
[Drake’s body was found by police on October 11, 2006. Katie’s whereabouts remain unknown.]
For a few seconds, there was nothing, only the sound of nearly six hundred people holding their breath.
“Holy God…” someone murmured from the fifth row, barely audible. They hadn’t expected that ending, honestly, they had found the earlier scares rather mild. But that final sequence sent chills down their spine, making them briefly look away.
“That was intense,” whispered a young critic with a notebook resting on his knees.
A couple a few rows back let out nervous laughter, relieved that the film was over.
“Told you you’d scream,” the girl said, laughing, while her boyfriend grimaced.
“That ending got me…” he admitted.
On the other side of the theater, a woman in her forties from the general audience shook her head, eyes still wide open. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep tonight,” she joked, laughing with her friend.
Closer to the front, an IndieWire journalist thought, 'Good pacing. Doesn’t reinvent the genre, but executes it well.' Solid for the budget it had, much better than some multimillion-dollar horror this year.
The applause wasn’t deafening, but it was steady and sincere. People genuinely liked it, there was a sense of surprise and respect, knowing the film’s famously tiny budget.
The crowd began to rise slowly. Some drifted toward the aisles murmuring to each other; others reached for their phones.
Amid the hum of voices, Owen caught fragments of conversation:
“Really well acted…”
“The sound design, incredible…”
“Reminded me of Blair Witch, but more grounded…”
“The tension was perfect, nothing over the top…”
“Seriously? They made it with twenty thousand dollars? Damn, I spent that much on my car…” a guy murmured with a laugh, realizing he could’ve spent that money on something that might’ve brought him fame or profit.
The screening officially ended, and the audience began to leave. Photographers and part of the press moved toward the Egyptian Theatre’s back patio, where A24 had set up an exclusive after-party, accessible by invitation only.
There was freshly served food, wine, soft background music, and a murmur of overlapping conversations.
Owen moved through the crowd, exchanging greetings and congratulations. He ran into Gaten, who smiled and congratulated him.
“Congrats, man! It’s incredible you pulled that off with so little money, most people spend that much on a short film,” Gaten said, wearing a formal suit and a cap. Odd choice, but it somehow worked for him.
“Thanks, and thanks for coming…” Owen replied, exchanging a few words before continuing his social rounds. Gaten stayed behind chatting animatedly with Sarah.
Eventually, the after-party came to an end, officially closing out the film’s premiere.
After saying goodbye to his family, the rest of the crew, and the A24 team, Owen returned to his apartment with Sophie and Matt.
When they arrived, the clock was nearing one in the morning. They were tired, yes, but still buzzing with that residual energy that lingers after an adrenaline-filled night.
Matt, acting like he was at home, opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of red wine.
“You’re still drinking?” Sophie asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah, cheap wine for classy people,” Matt said as he uncorked it.
“Come up with a better motto,” Sophie muttered under her breath.
Matt poured three glasses and brought them over to the couch.
“And you can drink now, my friend. No need to drive,” he said, as if announcing something monumental.
Owen smiled and took the glass. “Thanks, Dr. Alcohol,” he joked. “Let’s toast, to the success of the premiere.”
“And to the fact that nobody fainted,” Sophie added.
The three clinked glasses and took a sip.
Matt, unable to stay still, was already on his phone. “What if a review’s already out?” he said, scrolling frantically.
Owen shook his head slowly. “Relax. They usually drop early Friday morning. That’s how the big outlets work, you know that.”
“Yeah, well…” Matt cut him off suddenly. “Except when one’s already published.”
Owen looked at him, surprised. “What? Where?”
“Collidercom,” Matt replied.
Collidercom, an entertainment news site focused on movies, television, and pop culture, known for its news, analysis, reviews, and interviews. Founded in 2005, it had become a highly trusted source.
📰 Collider – Official Review
[Paranormal Activity (2022): Owen Ashford and Matt Rogers Reinvent Domestic Fear and Found Footage]
By Brian Formo – Published September 2, 2022, 12:57 AM
With a budget of barely $20,000, Owen Ashford and Sophie Thatcher deliver one of the most restrained and effective horror experiences of the year.
Paranormal Activity (2022) revisits the found-footage format but gives it something the genre hasn’t seen in a long time: emotional authenticity. The story doesn’t rely on jump scares but on how the characters react to the unknown.
Ashford, in his dual role as lead actor and screenwriter, builds Drake, the skeptical young man filming to understand what he can’t explain, with surprising naturalism. Sophie Thatcher, on the other hand, brings an unsettling yet deeply human presence, avoiding the usual possessed victim clichés.
What’s most impressive is the tonal clarity: no cheap tricks, no unnecessary sound jolts. The fear emerges from silence, from what’s off-screen, from what’s never fully shown.
The direction, camera work, and sound design are impeccable, especially for such a small production. Every creak and every shadow is carefully placed to sustain tension without breaking believability.
Paranormal Activity (2022) doesn’t aim to reinvent horror, but to refine it, and it succeeds brilliantly.
Score: 8 / 10
Verdict: A film that reminds us fear doesn’t always need to scream, sometimes, it only needs us to watch and believe.
…
Matt slowly lowered his phone, a wide smile spreading across his face.
Sophie smiled too, almost in disbelief. “Eight…” she said softly. “Not bad at all for something we shot in a single location.”
“Tomorrow this will be everywhere,” Matt said with a nervous laugh.
They stayed up a bit longer, reading more reviews and social media reactions.
When fatigue finally began to show, Owen and Sophie stood up from the couch. “Time for bed, huh?” she said, stretching.
“Yeah, I think we’ve done enough for today,” Owen replied.
Matt, half sprawled on the couch, raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Make as much noise as you want, I don’t care. I’m so drunk I’ll be asleep before I realize you’re doing anything.”
Sophie grabbed a cushion and threw it at him with perfect aim. “Shut up, drunk, and go to sleep!” she said, laughing as she turned off the dining room light.
The next morning marked the film’s official release in 500 theaters.
By that Friday night, the first box office numbers exceeded every expectation, $1.05 million on opening day, with sold-out screenings in Los Angeles, New York, and Chicago.
On Saturday, the phenomenon grew even larger thanks to word of mouth and the enthusiastic reviews from outlets like Variety, Deadline, Collider, and more.
Social media users were calling it “the most realistic horror film of the year,” and on TikTok, clips with the hashtag #ParanormalActivityA24 were racking up millions of views.
By the time Sunday ended, the box office reports confirmed the unthinkable:
—$3.15 million in its opening weekend, surpassing even A24’s most optimistic projections.
At the studio’s offices, the distribution team wasted no time reacting.
The per-theater average was extraordinary, over $6,000, something rare for a limited release.
That very night, A24 decided to expand the film to 1,500 theaters. The gamble was paying off. The word of mouth was excellent, critics were backing it, and audiences were responding with enthusiasm.
Meanwhile, in his apartment, Owen woke up to the persistent vibration of his phone on the nightstand.
Messages from Cristian, from A24, from journalists requesting interviews, from family, from friends, all congratulating him.
Still half asleep, he unlocked the screen and among the flood of emails and notifications, read the studio’s official summary:
$3.15 million in its first weekend.
He smiled silently. In his head, he did the quick math: half went to theaters, leaving $1.575 million for A24.
From that, his contract guaranteed him 20% post-theatrical profits: $315,000.
Just in three days.
He lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. “Three hundred fifteen thousand dollars in a single weekend…” he murmured to himself, still in disbelief.
It was a surreal figure, especially considering he had invested only $20,000.
And this was just the beginning, three days into release.
The film was expected to stay in theaters for at least four weeks, but with the expansion to 1,500 screens and the audience buzz, Cristian had already confirmed that the studio planned to keep it running for a full eight-ten weeks, just as they had projected in the best-case scenario.
If the trend held, even assuming a modest average of $315,000 per weekend, Owen would end the theatrical run with over $2.5 million in personal profit.
And that didn’t even include weekday earnings, which, while smaller, still added up.
Moreover, that $315,000-per-weekend estimate was clearly conservative, the movie was taking off, reviews were strong, and word of mouth was spreading fast. More importantly, the film now had three times as many theaters as it did at launch.
There was no longer any doubt.
Owen would become a millionaire at twenty years old by the time the movie finished its theatrical run.
Comments
Frédéric De souza
❤️Awesome, thank you for this moment.❤️
