Though they'd prepared, the ensuing media storm was fiercer than anyone imagined.
After The New York Times article sparked the flame, it seemed as if, suddenly, much of the media's initial surprise and praise for Run Lola Run turned to doubt.
In truth, such doubts had lingered since the film's release.
No matter how you looked at it, an 18-year-old with no chance to study at a proper film school suddenly producing a standout like Run Lola Run seemed too bizarre.
But before the New York Times piece, everyone had been swept up in admiration and awe for the teenage genius. Any dissent was often dismissed as jealousy.
Now, with a globally influential authority like The New York Times leading the charge, plus behind-the-scenes nudging from interested parties, those suppressed voices erupted in a clamor.
"Puppet or Genius? Breaking Down the Demands of Run Lola Run's Key Roles."
"Demystifying Film Scoring: Why Simon Westeros Couldn't Have Composed Run Lola Run's Music Himself."
"Stunning Shots, Phony Backstory."
"An 18-Year-Old Hoax: A Movie Marketing Scam That Fooled the Nation."
"Simon Westeros's High School Classmate: He Was Hardworking, But No Way a Film Director."
"Run Lola Run's Real 'Capital' and 'Tech': Tycoon's Daughter Janet Johnston and Columbia Film School Star Kathryn Bigelow."
"Former Run Lola Run Gaffer Accuses Simon Westeros of Being All Show."
"..."
"..."
For a time, not just newspapers—even major North American radio and TV stations joined the fray, eagerly hunting for evidence that Simon Westeros couldn't possibly have the skills to make Run Lola Run. San Jose, where Simon grew up, soon saw another influx of reporters from across the country, and the press pack outside his mansion swelled again.
On the other hand, Simon's team struck back swiftly.
But they didn't rush to clarify the facts—instead, they targeted Mark Hollington, author of the doubting New York Times article.
Early the next morning, Daenerys Films issued an official statement via The Los Angeles Times, blasting Hollington's conclusion—based solely on Simon's upbringing—as arrogant prejudice born of his own inadequacy, even a shallow superiority complex from his affluent middle-class perch, discriminating against the nation's underclass.
In America, the "discrimination" label packed a lethal punch.
Hollington responded immediately, publicly stating he only asked Simon Westeros to prove his professional ability to make Run Lola Run, with no discriminatory intent.
This time, Simon's side offered no reply.
But News Corp's New York Post soon ran an article decrying Hollington's demand for someone to "prove their innocence" as a vile rogue tactic. If Hollington believed Run Lola Run wasn't Simon's work, he should produce solid evidence himself—otherwise, rashly raising doubts was a grave infringement on another's reputation. Simon Westeros had every reason to sue for defamation.
After this exchange, the overwhelmed Hollington suddenly went silent.
But with the media storm already raging, it wouldn't die down easily.
In the following days, through deeper digs into Simon's past, analyses of the film's content, and even "Hollywood insider" tidbits, doubts poured in from all sides.
With help from WMA, Fox, Orion, and others, Simon parried blow for blow.
Meanwhile, Hollywood figures close to Simon—like Brian De Palma, David Giler, Robert Redford—began speaking out in his support.
Additionally, after two days of urgent talks, Fox president Ronald Goldberg approved Amy Pascal's early resignation.
Daenerys Films promptly held a press conference, announcing that former Fox production VP Amy Pascal would join as company president.
This news undoubtedly steadied the faith of many publics wavering under the barrage of doubts. After all, if Simon were just a superficial kid, he'd never recruit a major studio VP to work for him.
But soon papers "exposed the truth," claiming Pascal's jump to Daenerys was just to personally oversee Final Destination—Fox's investment with Simon Westeros as "producer"—precisely because Fox doubted his abilities.
Amid this hubbub, things dragged on to March 13th, a Friday.
Many matters had reached a critical point.
Because that day, the box office data for 1987's tenth film week was officially released.
The weekday media frenzy had inevitably sown doubts among ordinary folks about Run Lola Run's behind-the-scenes truth, but in just a few days, the film's box office hadn't suffered much.
For the new week, Run Lola Run tallied $25.62 million, pushing its cumulative to $57.71 million.
Clearly, the nationwide wide release in its first week had nearly doubled the North American haul. Over the next two to three weeks, barring a major drop, the total would smoothly breach $100 million.
Trailing it was still Lethal Weapon.
This $15 million production earned $8.82 million in its second week.
Though its screen count exceeded Run Lola Run's by over a hundred, and reviews were decent, Lethal Weapon's draw clearly paled against an "event film" like Run Lola Run, netting just a third of its take.
Even adding the next four—Platoon, A Nightmare on Elm Street 3, and Angel Heart—their combined weekly gross was only $27.63 million, barely matching Run Lola Run alone.
Afternoon.
In the cliffside mansion in Los Angeles' Palisades.
Kathryn Bigelow took the coffee Janet handed her. Seeing Janet plop down beside her like a little girl, she smiled and scooted away to avoid the cling, then turned to Simon on the other end of the sofa. "You haven't gone out these past few days?"
Simon looked at Kathryn, who'd rushed back from Arizona dusty and weary, feeling deeply touched.
Amid the media mess, many people he'd met over the past half-year—Brian De Palma, David Giler, Sandra Bullock, Jonathan Friedman, and more—had offered concern and support.
Though Simon had the maturity of two lifetimes, the relentless media doubts had built up negativity. It was these people's care that kept his mindset steady.
Hearing her question, Simon nodded. "Yeah—nothing to do out there anyway, so I've just stayed home."
These days, the reporters outside his mansion showed no sign of thinning.
To dodge the hassle, Simon handled contacts by phone or had Mike Medavoy, Pat Kingsley, and others come over—he hadn't stepped out once.
It did keep things quieter. But much of his work had ground to a halt.
Though Leonard Goldberg had approved Amy's early exit for his own interests, Fox was stalling on signing Final Destination.
For The Butterfly Effect a month away, Fox wouldn't sabotage like others and even helped—but they were clearly watching how things unfolded.
Fairly speaking, at this point, no matter the outcome, Simon would struggle to fully shake the doubts for a long time. Some things, even false, repeated a thousand times, could never be cleared.
Kathryn cradled her coffee, glancing away as Simon studied her. "So, what's your plan next?"
"This needs to end," Simon replied. "I'm heading to New York tomorrow—booked NBC's The Tonight Show for Monday's slot. I'll explain and make a statement there."
Though unfamiliar with such a mess, Kathryn doubted it would wrap so easily. "And that'll do it?"
"There'll be follow-up media moves," Simon assured her with a look, then asked about her. "What about you? I remember the schedule had wrap this week?"
Kathryn nodded. "But next week we head to Oklahoma for some exteriors, then back to L.A. for post."
Near Dark's story was set in Oklahoma, but shot in Arizona for weather, tax breaks, etc.—some exteriors were needed to avoid glaring mismatches.
Simon said, "I'll help with post."
Kathryn smiled shyly. "People will say my films aren't really Kathryn Bigelow's anymore."
Simon grinned. "Perfect—I've got the same problem."
They chatted a bit before Jonathan Friedman, Mike Medavoy, Pat Kingsley, Amy Pascal, and others arrived one by one at Simon's place. With New York tomorrow, not everyone could go—today's afternoon was for finalizing the response strategy.