Hollywood's big studios, critics, and die-hard movie fans were absolutely stunned when EmaScore dropped an A-grade rating for Juno on their site. People lost their minds.
Studio execs, producers, directors, and actors all started roasting EmaScore left and right, like they'd finally lost touch and were totally out of step with what's hot these days.
One manager from Warner Bros. straight-up said, "EmaScore has completely lost it. A low-budget indie flick with no name actors and a first-time director? An artsy movie with a built-in tiny audience? And they give it an A? That site's about to go under."
He added, "No matter how good an artsy movie is, only so many people are ever gonna watch it. The box office can't go crazy."
But no matter how much shade got thrown at Juno, one thing was undeniable: that A from EmaScore, plus the glowing reviews from major outlets, top critics, and regular moviegoers leaving love letters all over IMDb, sent the little film rocketing to its first real peak.
Word-of-mouth is magic when it actually works, and not every movie pulls it off. Juno did.
By the second week, the box office was clearly turning upward.
That put Joey's mind at ease; she'd been stressing whether the movie would get yanked from theaters after just two weeks.
If you worked at a cinema that second week, you felt it. The movie everyone ignored opening weekend was suddenly on everybody's lips.
"Hi, one ticket for Juno, please."
Joey spent a whole day hopping between theaters and could tell the screenings had ramped way up. She sat through show after show, quietly listening to the crowds as they filed out.
Two women walked out together. One asked, "So, what'd you think?"
The other said, kinda emotional, "Hard to explain. It's not some inspirational tearjerker, but there's this… power in it."
"Same."
"I've never even heard of this indie director—Annie Jones? Whoever she is, she's got serious juice."
They kept chatting as they left the theater.
Right then Joey's phone rang—Kingfisher Pictures.
"Joy, second-week numbers are in. You wanna hear how we did?"
"Of course I do!" Joey answered, her voice a mix of nerves and excitement.
"Joey, you're a freaking rock star. Two-week total so far: $23.41 million. Yeah, it's not half of what a blockbuster pulls opening weekend, but for a tiny indie? We're already in the black—two weeks and we've made our money back. You killed it, girl!"
"Whoa—$23.41 million? I'm never forgetting that number," Joey said, pumping her fist. "And I don't think we're done yet. I've got a feeling Juno still has legs."
"For sure, there's next week. It probably won't top this one—usually week three and onward the numbers drop—but overall? This thing's a money-maker. Thank those critics and that big fat A from EmaScore!"
Joey was practically bouncing. "I'm writing thank-you notes to everyone—every outlet that covered us!"
She was already thrilled. Even if the third week tanked like Kingfisher predicted, she'd be happy.
But clearly Juno wasn't slowing down. The little indie was suddenly everywhere—on critics' lips, in fans' feeds, all over the internet.
You couldn't find many negative reviews on Rotten Tomatoes or IMDb. Almost everything was pure love.
"Such a strong female perspective—I'd bet anything the director's a woman."
"Rebecca Ferguson—thank you, Juno, for introducing me to this incredible actress."
"Y'all sleeping on the guy who played the mom's boyfriend? Pretty sure that's an ex-AV actor… but damn he's hot."
"Quiet, moving, clean shots, gorgeous visuals. It's got that sleepy Southern-town vibe—sun-drenched but not bright, a little melancholy but super warm. No pretension, not some cutesy indie quirk-fest, just a real, lived-in great movie!!"
"Only indie films can pull off something this good on such a tiny budget."
"This is exactly why I love indies—they give you humanity and something to think about. Masterpiece."
Word-of-mouth has always been more powerful than any studio marketing blitz. Even the six major studios throwing hundreds of millions at ads can't match it. Remember The Blair Witch Project? That insane box-office record still stands because people wouldn't shut up about it.
Every low-budget movie that's ever blown up did it on lightning-fast buzz.
Juno obviously had that magic.
So Joey didn't see it coming. Kingfisher didn't see it coming. And Hollywood sure as hell didn't see it coming—$23.41 million was nowhere near the finish line.
Third week rolled around. Everyone figured the little critically adored indie had already peaked—made its money in week two and would fade like most films do.
Nope.
Week three, Juno didn't drop. It exploded. Not another $20 million—it jumped $40 million. By the end of the third week the total hit $60 million.
Jaws dropped across the industry.
How does a niche indie with a limited audience pull commercial-blockbuster opening-weekend numbers in week three? It made no sense.
$60 million cumulative on a tiny budget already made it a massive indie success story.
Looked like Juno was the breakout art-house dark horse of the year.
But was it just an art-house thing anymore?
Remember, EmaScore gave it an A. That meant the mania might spill way beyond the indie crowd.
Week three ended with both critical and box-office fireworks.
45 major outlets averaged 88/100—an insanely high score.
Village Voice gave it 90: "In the bloodiest release window of the year, a dark horse just charged out of nowhere."
Empire gave it 80: "First-time director Annie Jones throws everything she's got into storytelling—keeps you hooked start to finish and nails the laughs and surprises."
Rolling Stone slapped a 93 on it, calling it "a movie that conquers you with pure heart."
St. Louis Post-Dispatch 89: "Underdog protagonist, powerhouse female gaze."
Week three—the explosion week—was over.
What was week four gonna bring?
In Hollywood, everybody's a realist. Before that $40-million third week, nobody truly believed a $3-million movie could ever cross $50 million.
Now they believed. $3 million in, $60 million out.
That kind of return doesn't happen often. At all.
What word is there besides "mind-blowing" for Juno right now?
Suddenly every outlet was obsessed.
"An unknown director, a cast of nobodies, and a flat-out extraordinary movie!"
"Three weeks, $60 million—are Kingfisher Pictures about to turn $3 million into a hundred million? Wall Street accountants are having heart attacks over this ROI!"
"We have to find this breakout director Annie Jones. She's a ghost—no one even knows what she looks like."
Annie Jones became the name on every Hollywood headline.
Where is she? Who is she?
She never showed at the premiere, the wrap party, nothing.
The big studios were already on the hunt, pulling every string to track her down and lock her in for their next project.
Because Juno had just made history.
How long had it been since a low-budget indie shocked the box office like this?
Juno was about to put independent film back on the map.
Even if it didn't hit $100 million, $60 million already made Joey a rising star in the indie world.
And nobody realized yet—the miracle wasn't over. Not even close.