Watching mid- to high-level execs from another studio swagger up to her, acting smug over a film that was bound to flop so hard it would lose its shirt… Laila couldn't help but feel deeply secondhand embarrassed.
What was she supposed to say? Tell them she didn't even see their film as a threat? That she didn't consider them competitors at all? That she didn't even care enough to think of them as obstacles?
Of course, she couldn't say that out loud—otherwise this awkward small talk would instantly escalate into a grudge. But on the flip side, there was no way she was going to give them empty praise either. What if her words got quoted as "Laila Moran supports Green Lantern" and were used for marketing? It wouldn't be the first time her casual viewing or mention of a film ended up boosting its box office numbers by accident.
So she tried a gentler approach, hoping to help them brace for reality without crushing them outright:
"Superhero films are the most popular and safest genre for audiences right now. But if we get so caught up in that we start ignoring other aspects of filmmaking, that would be missing the forest for the trees, wouldn't you agree?"
Laila intended to soften the blow and gently guide them toward managing expectations. But in the eyes of her rivals, that came off as her being wary of their project. And to them, that was as good as a win.
To be seen as a threat by Laila Moran? That meant they were clearly on the right track.
"Director Moran is right," one of them beamed. "What superhero films need are grand scenes, spectacular special effects, and an even better story! We're optimistic about this movie. Heh."
Heh, your face. Laila was barely hanging on. Talking to people like this was exhausting. Couldn't they at least read the room? Bragging about their movie in her face—what did they think they were doing?
She truly wanted to pull them aside and break the news early:
"Your film's going to bomb. $200 million budget, just over $100 million in global box office. The franchise was shelved until 2020. That's right—nine years later. It took nearly a decade for audiences to forget how much they hated it."
(Side note: DC only dared to revisit female-led superhero films in 2017 after the failure of Catwoman in 2004. Thankfully, Wonder Woman didn't let them down—$822 million global box office on a $149 million budget. If not for that success, they might have sworn off female heroes forever.)
And yet, here they were, spouting nonsense in front of her. Were they being foolish, or was there something else she didn't know? Some angle, some inside knowledge—or a bigger scheme?
As she spiraled into silent speculation, a familiar figure approached—Director Nolan.
The Warner Bros. execs smoothly ended the conversation and stepped aside, leaving the space to the two most sought-after directors in Hollywood.
"You have no idea how glad I am to see you. You just saved my life," Laila said gratefully.
Nolan blinked in surprise. "What happened?"
Laila shrugged. "They were just talking to me about their Green Lantern."
"Ah, I've heard about that," Nolan nodded. "They've been aggressive with promotion, even starting with a flashy casting campaign. I caught a teaser not long ago—it seemed… kind of interesting."
He wasn't speaking as a comic fan—just from a filmmaker's perspective.
Laila chuckled and shook her head.
"What? You think…" Nolan glanced around, then lowered his voice. "You think it's going to flop?"
Laila, of course, couldn't outright say it would. After all, no film had technically failed before its release. But she had her reasoning.
"They kept going on and on about the film—and from the way they talked, it's clear they've poured a ton into the special effects."
Nolan nodded knowingly. "That's become a must. After Avatar, everyone thinks audiences only care about CGI—especially massive set pieces."
"What do you think?" Laila asked. She was genuinely curious about the opinion of this brilliant director.
"I think it all comes down to the script," Nolan replied. "You need a strong framework before you can build a skyscraper. Special effects are like the exterior decor. They make the building pretty, sure—but if you don't have a solid structure inside, it's meaningless."
Nolan had always been more old-school. You could tell just from the fact that he still insisted on shooting with film. He wasn't against special effects; he just believed in using them where they made sense. Even in Laila's past life, Nolan remained committed to traditional 70mm film, claiming it was the only medium that delivered the effect he wanted.
But technology marches on. Eventually, cheaper, more convenient digital methods would win out. Even Nolan's lament—"The death of film is a tragedy for cinema"—couldn't stop the tide.
"You're right," Laila nodded. She was someone who placed great emphasis on the script, too. "If the foundation isn't there, then no matter how pretty the film looks, it's still empty. Unfortunately, today's film industry is chasing after whatever seems profitable and forgetting the basics. All audiences want is a good movie. Even lesser-known projects, if done right, can win them over."
In the West, with capitalism at its core, massive funding always chased perceived profit. After Avatar, a wave of VFX-heavy blockbusters flooded the market, claiming to give audiences what they wanted—only to crash and burn spectacularly.
Yes, superhero films are hot right now. And yes, DC, under Warner Bros., held rights to more powerful heroes than Marvel ever had. But even with such an advantage, failed superhero films were not rare—Catwoman, Fantastic Four, The Hulk, Daredevil… the list went on.
Nolan shrugged indifferently. Whether Green Lantern succeeded or failed had nothing to do with him. Warner Bros. was a collaborator, not an employer. Unless the movie's failure bankrupted the entire studio—which was unlikely—it wouldn't affect him at all. He was currently busy with Inception, and who knew when The Dark Knight Rises would even begin production.
"What I don't get is why they'd schedule Green Lantern ahead of your film," Nolan said, frowning slightly. "If it were me, I'd keep a full month of distance between similar genres."
Laila burst out laughing. "Don't make it sound like you're afraid of me. You're one of the hottest directors in Hollywood, too, you know?"
"To be honest, I'm not afraid," Nolan replied seriously. "But going head-to-head with you at the box office? That'd be very unwise."
To prove he wasn't just flattering her or sucking up to the boss, Nolan even started listing his reasoning one by one.