Sunday, March 12, 2023
It was three thirty in the afternoon, and in Owen's apartment were Matt, Tyler, and Eric. All ready to go to the 95th Academy Awards.
The ceremony started at eight in the evening, Los Angeles time.
So why were they all already gathered so early and fully dressed?
Because, as part of the nominees, they had to arrive around five in the afternoon at the Dolby Theatre for the red carpet, photos, and quick interviews.
And yes, short films do go to the red carpet.
Live Action, Animated, and Documentary short films nominees are all officially invited to the Academy Awards red carpet.
They get professional photos like any nominee and even interviews. But, obviously, to a lesser extent than A-listers or well-known actors and actresses.
Interviews depend on profile. Usually, it's something brief with secondary press. Although Owen doubted that would be his case.
He was an exception. Because of everything he was doing, his name kept coming up.
He had an unusual level of continuity that kept his name constantly present, whether online, in the media, or within the industry.
Paranormal Activity was what truly put him on the map. But since then, he hadn't disappeared.
There were no long breaks. No typical gap between projects where a name fades.
He kept moving from one thing to the next. After Paranormal Activity came The Spectacular Now, a project that drew attention as A24's next coming-of-age film, and also because he had sold the script himself and co-starred alongside Jenna Ortega.
Then came the Jimmy Fallon interview, which ended up being one of the show's most viral segments.
After that, the short films, millions of views, excellent reviews. Selected at Sundance and awarded. Paperman making it all the way to the Oscars.
Alongside all that was Good Will Hunting, with production underway and a cast featuring well-known names like Bryan Cranston, Ethan Hawke, Jacob Elordi, among others.
And now, Lights Out.
This wasn't the typical case of someone having a big moment and then fading into the constant noise of the industry and the internet.
"This is unbelievable," Tyler commented, breaking the silence.
They were sitting on the couches. Owen next to Matt and Eric. Tyler in the armchair.
In front of them, the coffee table with several already opened beer cans. And a few meters away, a tripod with a camera recording them.
Owen was going to document the entire Oscars experience, just like he had done at Sundance. He couldn't pass up that kind of content.
The Sundance vlog had reached nearly twenty million views in a week. Though, of course, that had been three full days. The Oscars were just one afternoon and night. And there was one major limitation.
Inside the theater, filming with cameras wasn't allowed. The broadcast was exclusive to the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences.
But that didn't mean there wouldn't be material.
Everything beforehand, yes.
He already had content of them getting ready, choosing higher-quality suits than the cheap ones they had worn at Sundance.
Also the trip to the theater. Moments right before stepping onto the red carpet.
And afterward, he could film the post-Oscars.
Reactions to what happened during the ceremony, the winners, the losers, whether there were controversies.
Even the Vanity Fair after-party.
The Vanity Fair Oscar Party is the most important private celebration after the Oscars.
It isn't organized by the Academy, but by Vanity Fair magazine, and it serves as the true closing of the night.
Winners, nominees, major Hollywood stars, directors, producers, and key industry figures attend.
It's much more relaxed than the ceremony. And actors, actresses, and others who couldn't get into the theater can attend as well.
As long as Owen stayed within certain limits, without intruding on private conversations, he could record his chats with his friends without any problem.
In the end, many people did the same: stories, clips, and small moments. The difference was that, in his case, all of that would turn into a full video.
"What's unbelievable?" Eric asked, resting his legs on the edge of the coffee table and leaning back into the couch.
Tyler looked at him as if the question were absurd.
"This," he replied, opening his arms. "We're going to the Oscars, man. Last year we were watching them on TV in Owen's old apartment, eating pizza, while he was betting everything on Paranormal Activity working."
Owen let out a small laugh through his nose.
"True, if it hadn't worked, my friend would probably be in a pretty rough spot," Matt joked, slightly raising his can.
Tyler smiled faintly at the comment and continued, "And now we're going as nominees. In custom suits that cost four thousand dollars each, instead of the cheap outfits we wore at Sundance."
"Hey," Owen cut in, slightly offended but clearly amused, "my situation back then wasn't precarious. I had everything pretty well calculated. And my Sundance outfit was quality, not cheap like yours."
The three of them laughed without arguing.
Eric lowered his legs a bit from the table, still smiling but with a more serious expression. "Yeah, it's a huge jump," he said, nodding slightly. "I remember Will Smith's slap like it was yesterday."
Matt straightened up immediately. "You remember that? That was insane."
"It was. Though not a good look for Will," Owen added calmly.
Matt tried to compose himself, adopting a more neutral expression. There was a camera recording. "Yeah, the Academy banned him from any official events for ten years. And he resigned his membership," he said.
They all nodded in silence.
And it hadn't been just that. Several of his projects were frozen or delayed immediately after the incident. Although now Bad Boys 4 was moving forward, a sign that studios hadn't completely written him off.
Still, the hit to his image was clear.
He went from being one of Hollywood's most beloved figures to someone with a far more divided public perception.
Tyler, who had always been a fan of his movies, broke the silence. "A mistake anyone could make, right?"
"Yeah," said Eric.
"A mistake," Matt agreed.
Then they looked at Owen, who shook his head.
"A pretty stupid mistake, if you ask me," Owen said.
Eric looked at him as a slight smile formed on his face. "Careful what you say, man. There's a camera recording you."
Owen smiled faintly and adjusted himself on the couch before replying, "Presenters at the Oscars always make those kinds of jokes. Always. It's part of the show."
He paused briefly before adding, "And that's what it was. A baldness joke about a woman. Men get those kinds of jokes all the time."
Tyler raised an eyebrow slightly. "Yeah, but imagine it's your girlfriend or your wife of many years. And you see she's not taking it well."
"Yeah, I get that. Of course it can bother you," Owen conceded. "But from there to losing control, standing up in the middle of the theater, walking on stage, and slapping someone in front of the whole world, it shows a lack of self-control. There are a thousand better ways to handle that. Talk afterward, say you didn't like it, ask for an apology… whatever. But not that."
"Hearing it like that, yeah, it does sound like a dumb mistake," Tyler said, then looked at Owen oddly. "Is there ever going to be a time we can actually win an argument against this guy?"
"Impossible," Eric replied in an extremely serious tone, and the others laughed.
"Alright, enough controversy," Matt said, standing up and stretching a bit. "Besides, who knows, maybe tonight something just as weird or even crazier happens. And we'll be there to see it live."
"But that's not the important part," he continued as he walked toward a corner of the apartment.
He grabbed a rolling whiteboard and brought it into the living room, placing it in front of them.
"What matters are our competitors," he said, picking up a marker and starting to write:
"We're up against: An Irish Goodbye… Ivalu… Le Pupille… and… Night Ride."
He set the marker down and nodded at the names. Then he turned toward them. "Did you watch them?"
There was a pause as Owen, Eric, and Tyler looked at each other.
"Come on, seriously you didn't watch any of them?" Matt asked, unable to believe it.
"Hey, my schedule's pretty packed with Good Will Hunting, Lights Out, and other stuff," Owen justified. "I didn't have time to watch a thirty-seven-minute Italian short film."
"But I read the synopsis for each one and how they were received. That counts, right?" he added.
Tyler and Eric nodded immediately, backing him up.
Matt sighed, shaking his head. "I can understand it from Owen," he said, pointing at him for a second. "But you two could've made a bit more effort."
He looked at them with mild reproach. "It's not like your schedules are completely packed all day."
Eric raised his hands.
"I tried, man, I swear. I started An Irish Goodbye, but I only got halfway through. That one caught my attention the most. The others didn't really make me want to start them, that's the honest truth. Not saying they're bad, I just didn't watch them."
Matt looked at him for a few seconds, evaluating him.
"Fine," he said at last, picking up the marker again. "Then listen."
He turned to the board and started summarizing them.
Night Ride. Norwegian short. Ebba, a woman with dwarfism, gets on a night tram. During the ride, she encounters Ariel, a trans woman, and two men who keep harassing her. What starts as an uncomfortable situation escalates, and Ebba ends up stepping in. A connection forms between the two women, and the other two get what's coming to them.
Le Pupille. Italian. Set in a religious boarding school at Christmas. It deals with desire, both pure and selfish, discipline, devotion, and how, even within a rigid environment, a certain kind of anarchy emerges among the girls.
Ivalu. Danish. A young girl, Pipaluk, wakes up to find that her older sister has disappeared. Their father says she left. But she doesn't believe him. She begins to remember her, to search for her, and little by little something much darker is revealed. Sexual abuse. And that she took her own life.
And finally: An Irish Goodbye. Irish tragicomedy. Two brothers who reunite after their mother's death. One of them has Down syndrome. It's lighter in tone, but still carries strong emotional weight.
"That's what we're up against," Matt concluded.
Eric straightened up, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together, partially covering his face and leaving only his eyes visible, extremely serious.
"We're screwed."
Owen smiled, amused.
"Definitely," Tyler agreed.
Matt looked at him. "Why do you think that?" he asked, in the tone of someone who already knew the answer.
"Because we're competing against everything the Academy loves. A short with a protagonist with Down syndrome. Another about abuse and suicide. One full of religious symbolism with girls in a boarding school. And another with a protagonist with dwarfism and a trans woman. Minorities and social weight," Eric replied.
"And then there's us," Tyler added with a small laugh. "A classic, beautiful, emotional romance."
Owen stood up from the couch and took the marker Matt handed him.
"Everything you're saying is true," he began, turning toward the board. "But we're going to win."
Eric raised an eyebrow. "You sound very confident."
Owen pressed the tip of the marker against the board, not writing yet. "Paperman is cinema," he said calmly. "Black and white. Sixties aesthetic. No dialogue. That, to the industry, is art."
"It's also romantic, visually strong, and universal. It works anywhere in the world without needing to change anything," Owen added as he started writing down Paperman's strengths.
Eric and Tyler nodded, listening closely.
Owen continued, "It has its own identity. The concept of the papers, the style, the way the story progresses, it doesn't look like anything else in the category. And it already connected at Sundance, online, with everyone."
He let his words settle for a few seconds.
Then he added, just as calmly, "And there's another important point. Voters are supposed to have watched what they vote for. So if they haven't seen a short, they'll vote for the one they have seen. And Paperman is probably the most watched short out of all the nominees. Because of its length and reach. Another advantage for us."
He wrote a number on the board, their probability of winning.
"We're going to win," Owen concluded.
Matt nodded without hesitation. He thought the same.
Tyler exhaled through his nose. "When you put it like that, it makes sense," he said, looking at Eric.
Eric shook his head slightly, but without arguing anymore. He had already given in to that logic.
From there, the conversation shifted to something else. They went over the main categories, Best Picture, Actor, Actress, Director…
They shared opinions, made predictions, and, inevitably, the idea of betting came up almost without them realizing it.
Nothing over the top, but enough to add a bit of tension to the situation and, above all, make it more interesting for the vlog.
Tyler and Eric were no longer in the same position as before.
Between payments from previous projects, the Paranormal Activity bonus, and now their roles on Lights Out, they had a comfortable margin.
Matt had hired them for Lights Out.
Tyler, as gaffer, with a salary of twenty thousand dollars for the month of shooting.
Eric, as the on-set sound mixer, same salary.
They weren't millionaires. But they were stable enough to afford four-thousand-dollar custom suits and place bets without worrying too much.
Owen, on the other hand, was playing on a different scale. He could have raised the stakes much higher if he wanted to, but he didn't. That wasn't the point.
When they finally checked the time and realized it was time to leave, the atmosphere shifted almost imperceptibly. It wasn't exactly nerves, but more like a contained tension. They went down to the parking lot and got into Owen's BMW.
The drive to the Dolby Theatre went by faster than they expected. As they got closer, the environment became more and more evident, streets blocked off, heavier traffic, lights, barricades, and crowds gathering in different spots.
When they finally stopped, an attendant approached almost immediately. Owen got out first, exchanged a few quick words, and handed over the keys.
They stepped out of the car and, for a moment, just stood there, taking it all in.
"This is real, damn," Eric muttered.
"We're actually here," Tyler said, swallowing as he kept filming out of habit.
Matt didn't say anything, but his eyes scanned everything carefully, as if trying to take in every detail.
Owen, calmer, looked around, and that's when he saw her.
Sophie. She was a few meters away, clearly waiting for them. Dressed for the occasion, elegant without overdoing it.
Owen hesitated for just a second before walking toward her. Matt and the others followed once they noticed her.
"Hey," Owen greeted as he approached.
"Hi," Sophie replied, matching his tone.
"All good?" he asked.
"Yeah, all good. You guys?" she said, glancing at the rest.
"Ready," Matt answered, adjusting his jacket with a smile.
"More or less," Eric added with a small grin.
Tyler slightly raised the camera. "Documenting the moment," he said, half-joking.
Sophie let out a soft laugh. The exchange was brief. Just enough.
They had to move as a group. Not only because their seats were together, but because they were part of the same project. It wouldn't have felt right to leave her off to the side, alone without knowing anyone.
"Let's go," Owen said finally, gesturing forward.
Sophie nodded, and without needing anything more, joined the group.
They started walking together toward the red carpet. As they got closer, the noise grew louder, the lights more intense, and the movement more organized.
Tyler lowered the camera and put it away. "I think this is as far as we go with this," he murmured.
They passed through an accreditation checkpoint, and after a few minutes, they were allowed to move forward.
Owen took a step past that boundary. 'This is where it begins,' he thought as he stepped onto the red carpet.
It didn't take long before they reached the first line of photographers, lined up behind barricades.
They didn't take even two seconds to react.
"Paperman team, here!"
"Over here!"
"Hold here, please!"
Some of them had already recognized them. Not all, but enough.
Owen stopped first, and the others followed almost automatically. They adjusted themselves to pose.
"Wow, a polite photographer who actually says please," Owen joked under his breath to Matt and the others, drawing a quick laugh, even from Sophie.
The flashes started going off.
"Together, together!"
The five of them posed.
"Now just the leads! Owen, Sophie, just you two!"
Owen turned slightly toward her. Sophie was already ready. They stood side by side, not too close, but just enough for the shot to work.
Click. Click. Click.
"Great, hold it, perfect!"
Then came the individual shots.
First Owen. Then Sophie. Then the rest.
They moved forward, picking up their pace again. Tyler let out a quiet laugh, still processing everything. "This is like in my dreams," he said, shaking his head slightly.
"Totally," Sophie murmured as she took it all in. She couldn't forget that just a year ago she had been watching this same red carpet on TV, and now she was there, being photographed and pointed at by dozens of cameras.
"Look over there," Tyler said, giving Eric a light nudge.
Eric followed his gaze.
A few meters away, surrounded by photographers and carrying a presence that stood out even in all that chaos, was Austin Butler.
He had been one of the most talked-about names of the year. His performance in Elvis had taken him straight to a Best Actor nomination, and since its release, his image had completely changed. He was no longer just an up-and-coming actor, he was someone who had proven he could carry a major film on his shoulders.
Elvis had cost 85 million dollars and grossed 287 million worldwide, making it a commercial success.
Interestingly, Owen's entire group remembered the film even more because it premiered at the 2022 Palm Springs Festival, the same festival where they had all been, and where Paranormal Activity had its first theatrical screening and became a success.
Austin looked calm, confident, and wore the kind of charming smile of someone who knew exactly where he stood.
Matt narrowed his eyes, studying him a second longer than necessary. "Owen has more followers online," he said, half serious, half joking. "Point for us."
Owen let out a small breath of laughter, "Yeah, sure. Tell that to the Academy. And I'd prefer you use other metrics to say I'm better."
But Matt wasn't looking at Butler anymore. Suddenly, his expression changed. His eyes widened slightly and, without thinking, he grabbed Owen's arm firmly.
"Hey, hey, look over there," he muttered, a mix of disbelief and contained excitement in his voice. "Look over there!"
Owen followed his gaze, and saw him.
Steven Spielberg.
A few meters away, surrounded by strong media and photographer attention, but not overwhelmed, given his experience. He was there for The Fabelmans, nominated in multiple categories, including Best Picture and Best Director.
"Your idol," Owen said quietly, with a faint smile.
Matt nodded almost immediately. "I'm definitely going to ask him for a photo," he replied, not taking his eyes off him.
They kept moving, stopping every few meters to pose whenever a group of photographers called them. The rhythm had become clear now.
As they continued, they started recognizing many more celebrities.
A few meters ahead, surrounded by attention, was Brendan Fraser, with a warm expression that contrasted with all the noise around him. A little further on, Andrew Garfield was smiling as always, relaxed, greeting people and posing with that natural ease that made him stand out even in a place like this.
"The best Spider-Man right in front of us," Tyler murmured, almost in disbelief.
Eric looked at him, offended by that statement. "We are not having that conversation again," he said, dropping it, it wasn't the moment.
Near Andrew was Florence Pugh. The two of them were presenting awards together that night. She turned her head slightly, recognized them, or at least Owen and Sophie, and raised her hand in a brief greeting, paired with a smile.
Owen and Sophie returned the gesture.
Owen remembered that Florence had tweeted about Paranormal Activity, the Sundance vlog, and even Paperman.
They also spotted Rihanna, completely surrounded, flashes going off constantly, even with security following her.
Owen narrowed his eyes slightly, observing carefully. "Is she pregnant?" he asked, not taking his gaze off her slightly rounded belly.
Sophie turned her head toward him almost immediately. "Do you live under a rock?" she replied, a mix of disbelief and amusement in her tone. "It's her second pregnancy. She's over five months along. Everyone knows that."
"Not everyone," Owen said calmly, slipping his hands into his pockets while still watching. "I don't. I don't listen to her music."
Tyler laughed. "Yeah, that definitely gives you away."
At that moment, as if she had felt the gaze, Rihanna turned her head slightly.
Her eyes met Owen's, longer than he ever would have imagined making eye contact with Rihanna.
Next to her, a man also turned and looked at him. His expression shifted slightly, his brow tightening.
Owen held the gaze without any issue, completely unfazed. "Why is that guy who looks like some kind of failed gangster staring at me like that?" he muttered, not lowering his voice much.
"Because that's her partner, A$AP Rocky, a rapper. And you're staring at his girl a bit too much," Tyler replied.
Owen finally looked away, more because of the name than the situation. "ASAP Rocky?" he repeated, tilting his head. "Like Rocky Balboa, the boxer?"
A small smile formed on his face.
Eric let out a laugh. "Yeah, exactly. Though I think it's a dollar sign, not an S."
Owen shook his head slightly, and before he could say anything else, he heard someone calling him. It wasn't a shout from the crowd, it was closer.
He turned his head and saw one of A24's founders approaching him with a smile: David.
Owen walked over and greeted him with a brief, natural hug, more like colleagues than anything formal.
It didn't go unnoticed. Several nearby glances shifted toward them. Photographers who had been focused elsewhere subtly turned, raising their cameras.
A24 didn't see Owen as just another actor. They saw him as someone they had already done business with, and it had worked. Very well.
It wasn't a typical studio, talent relationship. It was closer to creative partners.
"Good to see you, man," David said.
"You too," Owen replied naturally.
David wasn't alone. Behind him came the team from Everything Everywhere All at Once.
Daniel Kwan, Michelle Yeoh, Ke Huy Quan, Stephanie Hsu… all moving together as a group.
David made a quick gesture. "You should meet them."
The introductions were quick, but not superficial.
"Congrats on Paperman," Ke Huy Quan said with a smile that felt genuinely sincere.
"Thanks, I loved your work in Everything Everywhere All at Once," Owen replied.
"I loved Paperman!" Stephanie Hsu said. "You were great," she added, looking at Sophie, who smiled a bit shyly and thanked her.
A brief exchange that ended almost as quickly as it began.
They wished each other luck. David said goodbye with a light pat on the shoulder, and the Everything Everywhere All at Once group moved on.
Owen and the others resumed walking. The attention also began to shift toward Owen.
It wasn't constant like with major stars, but it was frequent enough to notice, photographers calling his name, clearer directions, some even calling specifically for him even when he was with the group.
At one point, he was called over for an interview.
"Give me a few minutes," Owen said, stepping away from the group and moving toward an area with larger cameras, microphones, and a clearly more professional setup.
This wasn't secondary press. It was ABC, the main network. Live national television.
While millions of people at home were watching the Oscars.
Clearly, the treatment he was receiving wasn't typical. Short film nominees didn't usually get live ABC interviews.
Owen positioned himself in front of the camera, lightly adjusting his jacket, showing no nerves. There was a brief pause, someone raised a hand, signaling a countdown.
"3… 2…"
The red light turned on.
The interviewer immediately smiled, "And we're live here on the red carpet with one of tonight's nominees, Owen Ashford, for Paperman."
Owen returned a slight smile.
"Owen, welcome."
"Thank you, it's good to be here," he replied, his tone steady but relaxed.
"How does it feel, being here tonight, at the Oscars?"
"Happy. It's a great experience," Owen answered, nodding slightly, as if the place lived up to expectations.
The interviewer raised an eyebrow just a bit. It wasn't the usual answer. Most people elaborated, talked about dreams, years of effort. Owen, on the other hand, had summed it up in a few words.
"Your short film is competing against four others. Do you think you'll win?" she asked, maintaining her professional smile.
"Yes," Owen replied, without hesitation.
There was a brief silence.
The woman blinked once. The cameraman behind the camera made a small gesture, as if he hadn't expected such a direct answer either.
"You seem very confident… why is that?" she added a few seconds later.
Owen gave a slight shrug, "I did my analysis with my friend Matt, the director," he said. "I'm not going to explain everything right now, but the probabilities are high based on that analysis."
The interviewer let out a small laugh, regaining her rhythm.
They talked a bit more about Paperman until the conversation shifted to another widely discussed topic.
"There's also a lot of interest in what you're doing outside of this project, Good Will Hunting, for example, with a very strong cast. What's the next step for that film?"
Owen didn't hesitate, "Cannes."
The interviewer was caught off guard again, this time more noticeably. "Cannes?" she repeated. "That soon?"
Owen nodded with a calm that didn't feel rehearsed, as if the idea wasn't some distant ambition but simply the next logical step in what was already happening.
"Yes. The plan is to premiere it there."
The interviewer tilted her head slightly, maintaining her smile, but in her eyes appeared that familiar hint of professional skepticism. It wasn't dismissive, far from it. It was experience.
"Cannes is another level," she said, choosing her words carefully. "It's not like just any film can get in."
Owen looked at her directly. "That's what they said about Sundance," he replied with the same calm tone. "And about the Oscars."
He paused briefly, barely noticeable, but enough for the weight of the statement to settle.
"And here I am."
The woman fell silent, unsure of what to add in the face of that absolute confidence and composure, a kind of confidence that bordered on arrogance, but unlike anything she had seen before.
"The first cut is almost ready," Owen continued, his tone now more concrete. "There are already studios interested. I think the film has the potential to get into Cannes, and for awards."
"Awards?" she repeated, surprised again.
Owen gave a small shrug, as if he wasn't making a grand statement, but simply laying out another possibility within a range that, for him, already existed.
"Yeah, who knows, maybe next year I'll be here again for Good Will Hunting if it gets a nomination for the ninety-sixth Academy Awards."
Behind the camera, someone let out a small exhale, almost imperceptible, but real. Not mockery. A reaction. The kind that comes when someone says something that, in any other context, would sound overly ambitious or arrogant, but the way he said it somehow didn't quite feel that way.
"That's ambitious, and you clearly have a lot of confidence in your film. I like it," the interviewer said at last, returning to her closing tone, though still carrying that note of interest she hadn't had at the beginning. "We'll definitely be watching. And best of luck tonight."
"Thanks," Owen replied with the same calm he had maintained throughout the entire interview.
The light turned off, the crew relaxed within seconds, and Owen stepped back, leaving that space.
He walked back toward the group, who were waiting a few meters behind.
"How'd it go?" Matt asked as soon as he saw him approaching.
"Good," Owen replied. "The usual."
Tyler narrowed his eyes, looking at him with a mix of suspicion and curiosity. "You sure?" he said. "You didn't say anything weird?"
"Yeah, nothing that's going to end up everywhere later?" Eric added.
"Of course not," Owen replied. "Normal answers."
Matt held his gaze for a moment longer, as if trying to read something behind it, but Owen was already looking ahead.
"Let's go," he said finally. "Let's head inside."
Sophie nodded silently, and the group started moving again.
The red carpet slowly faded behind them as they approached the entrance of the Dolby Theatre. The flashes were left behind, replaced by a more contained atmosphere.
They went through one final quick checkpoint, and finally, they crossed inside.
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