Chapter 313: Decline, Frenzy, Pain and Joy

The Castro Theatre, one of North America's oldest theaters, was now part of the Emperor Entertainment cinema chain.

As a landmark in San Francisco, its history traced back to the Spanish colonial period.

The theater first opened in 1910 before being converted into a retail store, only to be restored in the 1920s, with even the mayor attending the reopening ceremony.

Its interior was lavishly decorated, and the massive neon "Castro" sign outside had remained unchanged for decades.

Though the theater was old, its screening technology had constantly evolved.

Inside this historic building, audiences could enjoy 4K films with Dolby Atmos surround sound.

It was also one of the few theaters worldwide capable of screening 70mm film.

At this moment, a long line had formed in front of the ancient theater.

"Two tickets for The Matrix."

"I want a ticket for The Matrix."

"Three for The Matrix, please."

"The Matrix for me too..."

"I'm here for The Matrix as well..."

Behind the box office counter, Penny Wang, an exhausted Chinese-American cashier, was sweating profusely, cursing Martin and his Matrix under her breath.

"Damn this movie! What's so great about it? I'm exhausted—my hands are going numb!"

Meanwhile, inside the theater's merchandise store, another Chinese-American, store manager Zhu Jiang, was just as busy—but unlike Penny, he wasn't frustrated.

After all, this store was his business. The busier he was, the more he earned.

"Thank you, Martin. Thank you, The Matrix..."

As he silently praised Martin and The Matrix, he urged his staff to move in the newly arrived merchandise.

Box after box was carried in, unpacked, and neatly arranged on display shelves—long coats, leather jackets, sunglasses, action figures, keychains...

"Wait, why do we have MP3 players?"

A staff member curiously picked up a sleek white MP3 player.

"It's from Apple?"

"Just put it on the counter and be careful not to scratch it. This is the same model Neo used in the movie. Don't you think a white MP3 pairs perfectly with a black trench coat?"

The staff member, who happened to be Zhu Jiang's cousin, shrugged and placed the display model on the counter while stashing a hundred more units in the storage below.

By now, many moviegoers who had purchased their tickets had started wandering into the shop, their eyes immediately drawn to the merchandise.

"Whoa, is this Neo's coat?" A brown-haired white guy eagerly asked.

"Yep, the exact same model—not like those knockoffs outside!" Zhu Jiang perked up, ready to close a deal.

"How much?"

"$98."

"I'll take one."

After his purchase, the young man didn't leave but instead put on the coat and turned to his group of friends, striking a pose.

"Hey, guys! Check this out—Neo's trench coat! Do I look cool or what?"

"That's sick! Where'd you get it? I want one too!"

"I need sunglasses! Give me a pair!"

"How much for this MP3 player?"

Zhu Jiang busied himself joyfully—he was sure today's earnings would equal half a month's usual revenue.

"Thank you, Martin. Thank you, The Matrix..."

He repeated the mantra again.

Scenes like this were unfolding in theaters across major North American cities.

The brief thirty-second ad during the Super Bowl halftime show had already piqued massive curiosity.

On top of that, attendees from the premiere had flooded the internet with rave reviews.

"You have to see this movie."

"My God, this film has made me start questioning God!"

"A must-watch—this is a masterpiece."

"The action is insane, but the story is even better!"

With such hype, audiences naturally gravitated toward The Matrix when choosing a film to watch.

It was more than just a movie; it had become a phenomenon, a trend.

(Just like how The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring had once taken the world by storm.)

Even occasional negative reviews couldn't dampen the enthusiasm.

Chicago.

Inside a suburban villa, Roger Ebert was furiously yelling into his phone.

"Motherf— Harv, you lying bastard! We agreed on a hundred grand, and you only gave me half!"

On the other end, Harvey Weinstein snapped back, equally frustrated.

"Goddammit, how is that my fault? Your review did nothing! Have you seen how massive The Matrix is right now? If anything, I should be taking back that fifty grand I already gave you! Fuck, are critics just useless now?!"

With that, Harvey hung up.

But his last words sent a chill down Roger Ebert's spine.

Was the era of film critics truly over?

He still remembered a time when a single glowing review from him could make a film sell out for weeks—just as a harsh critique could bury a movie completely. Those were the golden days!

Back then, he was the guest of honor at every major studio. People flattered him, praised him, showered him with gifts and bribes... But now, all of that was fading.

He had already noticed the shift, which was why he had been more cautious in his recent reviews.

But this time—

Damn you, Harvey!!!

Meanwhile, inside Miramax's headquarters, Harvey Weinstein was cursing as well.

Sitting across from him, his brother Bob Weinstein suddenly spoke up.

"Harv, I've had this gut feeling for a while now. The influence of film critics is collapsing at an alarming rate. Have you noticed? Myers Studios invests heavily in online promotion now."

"Online?"

"Yeah, think about the Lord of the Rings elf controversy. And now, all these glowing posts about The Matrix flooding the internet..."

"You're right..."

Harvey fell into deep thought.

Back at the Castro Theatre's merchandise store, Zhu Jiang was on the verge of collapsing from exhaustion.

The entire day had been an endless stream of customers—he hadn't had a moment to rest.

Many products had completely sold out.

Even the most expensive MP3 players were gone, including the display model.

And then there was the limited edition Neo and Trinity couple's set—priced at a whopping $999.

He had originally planned to keep it as a centerpiece display item, but a wealthy couple had snapped it up without hesitation.

The guy had "rich kid" written all over him.

Damn it, I hate rich kids.

Zhu Jiang was exhausted, yet exhilarated.

"Looks like I'll need to stock up even more tomorrow."