June 2, 2003; the day after International Children's Day.
Also a Tuesday, which in the U.S. means Discount Tuesday at basically every theater chain.
Juno opened on exactly this nothingburger of a day, in a pathetic 98 theaters nationwide, with a screen average under 10%.
The writing was on the wall before the lights even went down.
Joey didn't bother going to any of the screenings. She already knew how this went with micro-budget indies; first weekends are usually dead quiet. She just parked herself in front of her computer, hitting refresh on Box Office Mojo like a smoker checking for one last cigarette.
The site wouldn't update daily numbers until late, and the first real update would be the full weekend estimate anyway.
Her phone rang. Kingfisher's distribution rep sounded apologetic.
"Day-one numbers aren't great. If it keeps trending like this, the weekend's gonna be rough. Some of the higher-ups are kicking themselves for not doing test screenings or a platform release first. But for now we're holding the current plan; no changes."
No premiere, no red carpet; just straight into theaters like a lamb to slaughter. That's what you get when the treatment you get when the director's name isn't even on the poster.
A whole week crawled by. Still nothing.
First weekend: $3.65 million.
Per-screen average: $600.
Painful numbers.
For comparison, the same weekend:
- Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl opened to $80 million ($7,000 per screen).
- Cold Mountain debuted with $76.55 million.
Even the fellow low-budget comedies were crushing it:
- Cheaper by the Dozen: $32.45 million opening.
- Something's Gotta Give: $23.14 million.
Juno looked like a rounding error.
Joey kept telling herself it was fine; Kingfisher hadn't yanked it after one week, probably out of respect for Cameron; but everybody knew the clock was ticking.
Renee was pacing the apartment, pissed on Joey's behalf. "People are so brain-dead now. They just want popcorn and explosions. They've been trained to only like movies that don't ask them to think for two seconds. Real films? They can't be bothered."
Joey gave a tired shrug, mostly trying to convince herself. "Give it one more week. If it's still dead, even Cameron's name won't save it. They'll pull the plug."
Renee flipped through Variety, groaning at the competition. "Look at this lineup. Cold Mountain is cleaning up, Nicole Kidman looks like she could freeze lava without makeup… Pirates is the biggest surprise of the summer, Disney's laughing to the bank… Cheaper by the Dozen another sleeper hit… no wonder Juno can't breathe."
Joey just nodded, stomach in knots.
––––––––
Tom Cruise's house, a few days later.
He's sipping tea, sliding the weekend actuals across the kitchen island toward Jack.
"Looks like your little Juno isn't the sleeper you thought, huh?"
Jack threw his hands up. "Hey, you're the one who passed! I only moved because you gave the thumbs-up. Anyway, we bought it outright; seven mil total, we take four, three covers the negative and interest. We're not losing money."
Tom smirked, just to mess with him. "Still, our hotshot producer Jack Hansen has his name on a flop. Thought this was gonna be your big comeback producing credit."
Jack pointed a finger. "Don't jinx me, partner. I still believe in it—"
"Believe in sub-10 million opening?" Tom deadpanned.
Jack stormed out, slamming the door behind him.
––––––––
Kingfisher Pictures offices.
James Cameron is kicked back next to the owner, Jemson, who's frowning at the same report.
"James, this was your pick, man. Numbers are ugly.
Cameron just shrugged, totally unbothered. "I liked the movie, not the opening weekend. Nobody can call every horse race; only one Tom Cruise. Audiences just aren't hungry for it right now."
Jemson groaned. "Easy for you to say; I'm the one bleeding cash."
Cameron snorted. "You'll survive one week and done. Relax."
"I'm not pulling it," Jemson said, shaking his head. "I'm giving it at least one more week. I still trust your eye."
Cameron gave a tiny, smug "hmph" like that was obvious.
––––––––
Rebecca's house.
Her mom waved the newspaper rankings. "Sweetie, your new movie's bombing pretty hard."
Rebecca, fresh from a run and still catching her breath, rolled her eyes. "That just proves audiences have been spoiled by junk food movies. A story with actual heart and they can't be bothered."
Her mom sighed. "I told you not to take a project from that director. Her past is a mess."
Rebecca slapped a hand over her mom's mouth. "Stop. Joey's good people. All that tabloid garbage? I don't even know where it came from."
Mom, please."
"Well… I was gonna brag that my daughter's in Juno, but now I'm kind of embarrassed," her mom muttered.
Rebecca just gave her a tired look. They'd all poured everything into it. At this point the movie's fate was in God's hands.
––––––––
Hughes, ever the diligent producer, makes a point to watch everything that opens.
He caught a matinee of Juno on a random weekday. Walked out thinking, Damn. That was actually good.
Too bad. Really sharp little movie; funny, honest, human. But in a summer packed with pirates and Civil War epics, nobody was giving indie dramas the time of day unless someone loud told them to.
The credited director "Annie Jones" didn't ring any bells, but whoever she was, she had real chops.
Shame. Hollywood doesn't have room for talented nobodies anymore.
He thought about Joey for half a second; she used to have that same spark. He'd been ready to hand her the keys to the kingdom once upon a time.
Guess she just didn't want it bad enough.
––––––––
While literally everyone else had already written the obituary, Joey was still sitting in her dark apartment, staring at the same frozen Box Office Mojo page.
She refused to give up yet.
One more week.
Just one more week and maybe; maybe; the world would notice what she already knew: the movie was special.
She wasn't ready to let it die. Not yet.