Unbelievable.
It seemed like she'd woken up one morning, and her first movie was about to hit theaters.
She'd originally thought this day would be at least two or three years away.
Too bad Mom and Dad couldn't see it right away—the East Coast only had screenings in New York.
Good thing she'd sent the poster back early, along with that clip he'd edited for submitting to the Back to the Future 2 team—she'd secretly copied it and seriously warned her parents in the letter not to let the tape leak, especially to watch out for her sister; Jessie was at that show-off age and so restless.
After wrapping in the afternoon, she immediately rushed out of Warner Studios without stopping, driving back to West Hollywood.
Keanu was already waiting on Santa Monica Boulevard, with a noisy crowd of guys and girls in tow—what a popular guy. Though he had years of acting experience, Run Lola Run happened to be his first theatrical film too.
Of course, his role was pretty pathetic.
Everyone introduced themselves, then headed to a nearby theater they'd scouted ahead.
Maybe because it was Friday, the theater was packed, with lines forming. Staring at the prominent Run Lola Run poster in the lobby, she silently prayed these people were all here for her movie.
With seven in their group, no need for everyone to queue—she volunteered for the job. Mingling in the crowd, she listened intently to what films the people ahead were buying tickets for.
Platoon, hmm, she knew that one—also distributed by Orion.
Run Lola Run, heh, plus one.
Run Lola Run, tsk, plus two.
Over the Top, hmm? She glanced at the poster in the lobby—oh, Stallone's new flick; no competing with that.
Run Lola Run, ding, plus three.
Black Widow, pfft.
Soon she was second in line, hearing the middle-aged man ahead with a boy ask, "Miss, what's the rating for Run Lola Run?"
She froze for a moment.
Right—how had she missed that? She pricked up her ears.
The ticket seller noticed the boy at the window and replied, "Sir, it's R-rated. Do you still want it?"
The man hesitated.
Noticing his dad's uncertainty, the boy grumbled, "Dad, I'm not a little kid anymore."
The man glanced at his son, then asked the seller again, "Miss, this movie—do you think, uh, it has anything too inappropriate?"
The seller shook her head with a smile. "Sorry, sir, it just opened today—I haven't seen it."
Standing behind, her mind went blank.
How could it be R? Even if not PG, PG-13 was definitely fine, right?
Seeing the dad still wavering, she wanted to blurt out: It's okay, I guarantee it. Don't believe me? Look at my face.
But she held back from interrupting.
The father-son duo ended up picking Stallone's Over the Top.
So she stepped up and asked, "Uh, what's the rating for Over the Top?"
To avoid being recognized easily and awkwardly, she'd worn black-framed glasses today—the kind without lenses—and her hair was back to its natural color.
The seller eyed her, feeling a vague familiarity but not dwelling on it, politely answering, "Miss, it's PG."
Sylvester Stallone's movie is PG? With all that gore—you kidding me?
Seeing her daze, the seller asked patiently, "Miss, would you like that?"
Fine, fine.
Who made our title so short?
Arnold Schwarzenegger's next one's probably G-rated.
Muttering inwardly, she nodded and handed over a wad of bills. "Yes, seven tickets for the next showing of Run Lola Run."
This time the seller paused, smiled, checked something, then looked up regretfully. "Sorry, miss, the 6:20 show only has three tickets left."
Three? Not enough.
She asked immediately, "When's the next one?"
The seller checked again. "8:10."
Her eyes widened. "Why so long?"
The seller answered promptly, "Miss, our theater only has one screen showing Run Lola Run."
That made her even more annoyed. "If tickets are selling so well, why not add showings?"
The seller smiled politely. "Miss, that's not up to me—you can call our manager to complain."
I definitely will.
Muttering that to herself, she bolted from the line.
Hey, Keanu, you idiot—why rush to buy popcorn? Planning to sit on the curb and watch traffic?
Hearing the next show was after eight, the group of youngsters noisily left, switching two more theaters before finally scoring seven tickets.
This was a big 150-seat hall; as they entered, the place was buzzing with people.
The seven of them claimed the back row, waiting patiently as the last seats filled.
That cheered her up again.
But thinking of the recent media frenzy, it wasn't surprising at all.
Who wouldn't want to see what kind of movie an eighteen-year-old 'lunatic' had cooked up?
Then she thought of him.
Really surprising—he'd had that kind of past. But day-to-day, you couldn't tell at all; he seemed more normal than anyone.
On second thought.
No, he wasn't normal at all.
Who else so young could make a film like Run Lola Run?
And occasionally, you could sense the distance in his eyes toward everyone else.
"He's proud to the point of disdaining pride, like a god from another world suddenly descending to conquer this one."
That quote from his girlfriend Janet in the Los Angeles Times popped into her mind.
Tsk.
That's exaggerating.
People in love always see their partner as the best in the world.
But.
Mulling it over...
Hmm?
Pfft, no mulling—I'm not his girlfriend.
She suddenly regretted not going to Park City together; she'd heard it got super lively there because of Run Lola Run.
Pondering this, on the surface she chatted casually with Keanu and the others, laughing as if unbothered.
The lights dimmed, and everyone quieted.
As usual, trailers first.
It started with that quote again—felt like it could be cut; just showy. But cutting it might make something feel missing.
Then.
Pendulum ticks, second hand, music, shouts... no time to think, an urgent, compact eighty minutes.
As credits rolled slowly, the theater seemed flooded with some indefinable emotion.
Who am I?
Where am I?
What did I just watch?
Haha.
Then she eagerly watched the credits too.
Hadn't felt it much during filming, but seeing them now, she realized how much he'd done.
When lights came up, everyone still seemed immersed in that atmosphere.
Then.
The guy on Keanu's other side suddenly yelled, "It's-so-fucking-cool!!!"
And started clapping wildly.
So embarrassing.
Do you have to be so over-the-top?
We'll get beaten if spotted.
But his shout ignited the room.
Everyone gradually joined in clapping.
Whoosh whoosh whoosh.
After the lively moment, people buzzed discussions as they filed out.
Following the crowd from the hall, she lingered in the lobby, noticing many from their screening heading back to the ticket window—the sparse lines suddenly lengthening.
Realizing why, her heart swelled with satisfaction.
Leaving the theater, night had fallen; L.A.'s streets twinkled with neon.
They went to eat, jokingly thanking the yeller—who insisted he really thought it was cool and planned to see it twice more.
Then she brought up the rating, still feeling it unfair.
The others, longer in Hollywood, knew more; after discussion, she learned MPAA—controlled by the majors—often gave indies unfair ratings to suppress competition.
That had to be it.
Heard the majors were all interested in Run Lola Run, but he gave distribution to Orion—they'd naturally trip him up.
But.
So unfair.
Then again, all three Run Lola Run theaters tonight were packed—maybe not much impact.
That eased her mind a bit.
Partying till eleven, back at her apartment, after washing up, she planned to sleep but suddenly thought of him.
Heard he'd gone to Arizona.
Sigh, too bad she didn't got his phone number—otherwise she'd call now to congratulate.
And rant about MPAA's rating.
United front, right?
Pondering, and now that she's wide awake.
She grabbed the phone, nestled on the sofa, turned down the TV. Picked up the receiver, but hesitated—who to call?
East Coast family and friends? No—three-hour difference; two AM there. L.A. friends from six months? Not close enough for late-night chats.
After a pause, on impulse, she dialed his Montana villa number.
After beeps, no answer—then voicemail prompt.
As expected.
But anyway, she started rambling: "Hey, Simon, it's Sandy. Tonight Keanu and I went to see Run Lola Run. So many people—we hit three theaters for seats. And what's with the rating? You know? It's R—I think PG-13's totally fine."
Blah blah for minutes, then 'remembered' he wasn't in L.A., rounded it off, and hung up.
Then regretted it.
So dumb.
But after the call, her vanished sleepiness returned.
---
[TL/N: For those who don't know, this chapter is Sandra Bullock POV.]
Ko-fi.com/GodOfReader