C 17

"Hi, Luke. It's been a long time since I saw you."

The petite blonde reached out, and Luke shook her hand gently. "Naomi, you look so beautiful today."

They were in an independent theater near Century City, where the trial screening of Speed was taking place. Luke walked into the lounge prepared for the crew, and only Naomi Watts was there.

Not only fans and critics were attending the screening, but there were also some entertainment media reporters. There would definitely be a media event afterwards. For actors like Naomi Watts, who weren't key members of the crew, just being there likely meant her agent had spent a lot of effort to secure her appearance.

"Fox is really cutting corners," Naomi commented after they greeted each other and sat down on adjacent chairs. "They even mixed the media and fans together."

"It's still uncertain whether the film will be profitable," Luke replied, not upset. "Twentieth Century Fox is just being cautious."

"Have you heard, Luke?" she asked in a conspiratorial tone, leaning in closer. "Nancy—oh, that's my agent—said that Twentieth Century Fox's internal committee gave Speed high marks. Apparently, Tom Rothman, the director of distribution, thinks it has real box office potential."

"I hope so," Luke shrugged slightly.

Before they could continue talking, Uma Thurman, Keanu Reeves, Dennis Hopper, and others entered the lounge. Luke and the cast exchanged simple greetings, waiting for the preview to start.

Shortly after, Robin Grande came to inform them it was time, and Luke, Naomi, and the others walked into the screening room together.

The theater wasn't large, holding only about 300 seats. The first few rows were occupied by entertainment media reporters and film critics, most from smaller outlets. Major publications and top critics weren't present, as they typically wouldn't attend the preview of an unknown film like Speed.

In Hollywood, the level of media attention a film receives is directly related to its budget and pre-release buzz. Twentieth Century Fox wasn't going to invest heavily or invite industry VIPs for this. Even if they had, it was likely those people wouldn't have come. The modest marketing efforts for Speed weren't enough to attract them.

While media and critics were necessary to build hype, Fox's focus was on the feedback from regular moviegoers. They'd invited over 250 fans, ranging in age from 17 to 45, representing Speed's potential primary audience. Their reaction would give the best indication of the film's market appeal.

Harry Dunn, an observer from Twentieth Century Fox, was seated among the fans, along with a dozen other colleagues. Their job was to record audience reactions during the screening.

"Is anyone sitting here?" Two young men in their twenties approached, pointing to the seat next to Dunn. "Can you move your feet?"

Dunn shifted, allowing them to pass. The two were carrying Cokes and popcorn, treating the screening like any regular night at the movies. After sitting down, they began to chat quietly.

"Jones," said Allen, the man on Dunn's left with short brown hair. "Have you heard of this movie or the director?"

"I only recognize Keanu Reeves and Uma Thurman," replied Jones, the blond man next to him. "This director, Luke Rosenberg? Never heard of him."

"Maybe it'll be a bad movie," Allen worried. "I already regret coming."

"Hey, it's free," Jones replied, emphasizing the word. "We just have to fill out a questionnaire. Think of it as killing time."

Hearing this exchange, Dunn smiled. Modern audiences are often unenthusiastic about films without big-name stars or a famous director, and Speed had neither. If the film failed to hold their interest, it wouldn't be worth Fox investing any more resources into it.

The chatter in the theater died down as the screen lit up. While the ambient noise of drinking Coke, chewing popcorn, and whispered conversations didn't vanish entirely, most eyes weren't on the screen—yet.

"My Coke's too cold," Jones whispered.

"Switch with me," Allen replied, grabbing the larger Coke and taking a sip before grabbing some popcorn. "This popcorn is—"

He stopped mid-sentence, eyes glued to the screen.

Jones, similarly, was pulled in. The intense opening sequence of Speed immediately grabbed their attention, as the film's fast pace kicked in.

"Boom..."

The sudden explosion on-screen jolted the audience. Jones felt his heart race as the elevator on screen plummeted, with rapid cuts to the terrified faces of the passengers. His body tensed as if he were trapped in the elevator himself.

"Oh, God..." came a voice from the crowd. "Is he going to die?"

As the film entered a quieter moment, Jones exhaled slightly. "This... this is how top action movies start, right?"

"The director really knows what he's doing," Allen remarked, having forgotten about his snacks entirely. "Why do I feel like every scene is the most dangerous moment in the film?"

"It's the immersion," Jones said knowingly. "The director is using first-person shots and—"

"Hey, the villain isn't dead yet!" Allen interrupted, eyes glued to the screen.

"Shut up!" Allen retorted, irritated by the distraction.

Jones, still wanting to make his point, was about to respond when another explosion rocked the screen. Flames burst from a bus, sending debris flying in every direction. The roar of the blast reverberated through the theater as a car was crushed into scrap metal.

Jones clutched his seat, adrenaline pumping.

Dunn, who had to stay focused as an observer, found it hard to resist getting sucked into the film. As much as he wanted to enjoy it as an ordinary audience member, his job was to take notes on how the audience reacted to every moment. Glancing around, he could see the transformation—fans who had been indifferent now sat at the edge of their seats, engrossed.

"Jones, I can't hold it any longer," Allen whispered urgently, fidgeting.

"Me neither," Jones admitted. Both had consumed large sodas earlier and were now feeling the consequences, but they couldn't tear themselves away from the screen.

They finally decided to make a run for the restroom. As they hurried down the aisle, they kept their eyes glued to the screen, reluctant to miss a second of the action.

Dunn shook his head, amused. In all his years of watching audiences, he'd never seen anything like this.

Returning his focus to the rest of the crowd, he noted how they'd forgotten about their Cokes and popcorn. No one was talking anymore. Everyone was completely absorbed by Speed.