Chapter 254: But It Couldn't Beat Super 8
Before the sun even rose on Friday, Matsuoka Hiroyasu was already up.
Instead of heading straight to the office, he paced around the yard outside his house.
He had thought this might help him calm down, but the more he walked, the more agitated he became.
In the end, he could only silently return to the living room and pour himself a glass of milk to settle his nerves.
Judging from the audience's reaction at yesterday's premiere, the film didn't seem to be as bad as he had feared.
He had paid close attention—no one left early during the screening, and the applause at the end was quite enthusiastic.
Though it could easily be dismissed as basic courtesy from people attending a premiere, Matsuoka Hiroyasu hoped the clapping was genuine—proof they really thought the movie was good.
If the other early screenings could go like the premiere, then even if Godzilla didn't become a box office sensation, at least its numbers wouldn't be terrible.
What Matsuoka hadn't realized was that his mindset had already shifted—from wanting to completely crush Matou Shinji and Super 8, to simply hoping Godzilla would be a success, which he'd now count as a win.
This wasn't just because Super 8 was genuinely outstanding, but also because Godzilla had been getting so much bad press lately that Matsuoka felt completely overwhelmed.
Still, people always hope for the best. After all, there were plenty of films that were trashed by critics before release and still went on to become box office hits.
No need to look far—Shinji's Fate/Stay Night was a prime example.
And wasn't Godzilla in a similar situation now?
Matsuoka began to think that maybe Godzilla could be one of those surprise successes too.
What he forgot was that while Fate/Stay Night wasn't initially favored only by critics or the industry, its test screenings had received explosively positive feedback from the audiences.
Speaking of Shinji, Matsuoka had felt something was off.
Shinji had attended the premiere last night.
Because of the recent spats and media drama, Matsuoka had kept a close eye on him.
But throughout the whole event, Shinji behaved impeccably.
Apart from occasionally chatting with Cloris Flora, who was seated next to him during the screening, Shinji didn't do anything unusual.
In fact, after the film ended, he even came over to shake hands with Matsuoka and wished him great box office success.
It was this behavior that unsettled Matsuoka—not because Shinji had done something aggressive, but because he hadn't done anything at all.
From what Matsuoka understood, someone as young and successful as Shinji should've been hot-headed and cocky. Given how much he'd been slandered recently, Shinji should've been throwing jabs and picking fights.
Instead, he'd just calmly watched the movie, behaving like a seasoned executive from an established film studio.
"Could that kid actually be capable of separating Toho from Paramount, the one really dragging him through the mud?"
Matsuoka found it hard to believe, but it was the only explanation that made sense.
Just as his thoughts spiraled and his unease deepened, his phone rang.
Matsuoka glanced at the screen—it was his secretary.
He quickly answered, pressing the phone to his ear. "It's me. Has the early screening box office data come in?"
"Just got it."
There was a brief pause on the other end. Matsuoka's heart began to sink.
There was no trace of joy in the secretary's tone—only gravity. That couldn't be a good sign.
"Boss, the numbers are slightly below expectations."
"Which numbers?"
"North America. Japan's still being tallied."
"How much?"
According to Paramount's projections, Godzilla's North American opening box office should've landed somewhere between $3.25 million and $3.75 million.
But for Matsuoka Hiroyasu—whose expectations were already lowered—even just $2.5 million would have counted as a win.
Just as he had this thought, the voice from the other end of the line shocked him.
"About $1.68 million…"
"$1.68 million?!"
This wasn't a little under expectations—this was a clean chop down the middle!
Matsuoka didn't even have the energy to scold his secretary's elementary school math skills. He just hung up.
He sat there on the long couch, dazed, not wanting to do or say anything.
Only one thought echoed in this Toho executive's mind:
It's over. I'm completely, totally screwed.
Back when he pushed hard for the Godzilla reboot, he'd offended a lot of people in the company.
At the time, the Toho board had shown interest in the project, so they cleared the internal roadblocks and greenlit it.
Now that the film had bombed, those people he'd crossed would pounce like rabid dogs.
No wonder Shinji Matou was so chill yesterday.
Why worry about a dead man walking?
After a long while, Matsuoka Hiroyasu slowly came back to his senses.
He pressed his palms together, like in prayer, desperate for any kind of salvation.
He wasn't even Christian, but right now he really hoped God would lend him a hand.
"Please… let people go watch this movie!"
He said this aloud, like a wish.
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A wide-release movie, no matter how bad, is guaranteed to pull in some viewers.
Unless Shinji had somehow cast a hypnotic spell across the whole world telling people not to watch Godzilla, it was just the way the market worked.
Not that he could actually do that.
And if he did try, the Clock Tower would probably slap a formal Sealing Designation on him first.
Only a Magician or the Gods could get away with shit like that.
Still, just because people might watch the movie didn't mean they'd like it. That part was out of anyone's hands.
It was a bright, sunny mid-May in Japan. As summer neared, temperatures were rising across the country.
And alongside the heat came a surge of energy in the movie market—it was the start of summer blockbuster season.
Unlike the dry spell of last summer, 2006 was stacked with big hitters.
Super 8 had already exploded onto the scene, shining bright.
Then came the much-hyped return of the king—Godzilla.
You could say that moviegoers in summer 2006 were a lot luckier than those the year before.
But then came the hard part—what to watch?
"So, what movie should we go see?"
In a McDonald's somewhere in Tokyo, a group of college students sat gathered around a long table, chatting about their next plans.
One of the guys sipped his Coke and said, "Anyone up for a low-budget horror movie?"
"No way!"
Someone immediately objected. "I'm a coward—I don't wanna see that kind of stuff."
"Alright then, let's pick between Super 8 and Godzilla."
He shrugged and threw out the two main options to the group.
"Shibamatsu, you go first."
"Me?" Shibamatsu raised an eyebrow. "I'll go with Super 8."
"Nah, let's go with Godzilla, okay? I already saw Super 8."
"Yeah, I've seen it twice already. Let's try Godzilla this time."
"Ultraman was my childhood, and so was Godzilla! After all this time, seeing him back on the big screen is a must!"
"Super 8 really needs to be seen in IMAX, and all the good seats are already gone."
"But…"
A girl raised her hand. "Didn't the papers say the new Godzilla design looks super ugly?"
Another guy teased, "I think you just wanna see that Johnny's boy band idol in it."
"Watch it or I'll deck you!"
The guy laughed and dodged her playful punch, then tilted his head toward Shibamatsu. "You haven't seen Super 8 yet, right? If not, we'll go again with you."
Shibamatsu munched on his fries and replied casually, "It's fine. I'll go see Godzilla with you all."
Of course, he didn't mention that he'd already seen Super 8 three times—all in IMAX.
The first time was with the Young Magus Club, the second was his own solo rewatch, and the third was a family-mandated viewing to analyze the naked-eye 3D technique.
So yeah, Shibamatsu didn't mind seeing Godzilla for a change of pace.
As for why he originally pushed for Super 8...
"That's just basic political correctness—for a magus," he told himself.
With that, the group wrapped up their quick lunch at McDonald's and headed for the theater.
Then came the regret.
Hard to say if everyone else felt it, but Shibamatsu definitely did.
Not because Godzilla was horrible, but the gap between it and Super 8 was painfully obvious.
To Shibamatsu, the movie was flat-out boring—he spent most of the time stifling yawns.
The plot was cliché to the point he could guess every twist in advance.
The human drama dragged, and the female lead's only role was to scream—constantly—and at a pitch that made Shibamatsu cover his ears.
And that wasn't even the worst of it. The Godzilla design?
Absolutely hideous.
The newspapers hadn't lied—it really was just one ugly-ass lizard.
Compared to it, even the ridiculous-looking Alien Hipporit with that droopy face looked downright charming.
If his friends hadn't been there, or if he had anything better to do, he would've left early without a second thought.
Five years ago, maybe he would've enjoyed it.
But now?
He'd been spoiled—completely—by Shinji Matou's brand of blockbuster filmmaking.
Sure, Godzilla had passable CGI. Yeah, the monster was ugly but fairly realistic.
But it still couldn't beat Super 8.
The city destruction scenes were decent—still couldn't beat Super 8.
The action was okay, explosions were there—still couldn't beat Super 8.
Lead actor's looks? Still no match for Super 8.
In short, Godzilla was alright…
But Super 8 trounced it in every category.
"Hm?"
He felt a nudge on his arm and quickly turned.
"What are you spacing out for? The movie's over."
Only then did Shibamatsu realize the credits were already rolling.
"It's over? What'd you think?"
Hearing that, the friend immediately knew he'd zoned out.
"Not great. Definitely worse than Super 8," they replied with a frown. "The ending hinted at a sequel, but I'm definitely not watching it."
"Same," Shibamatsu nodded, rising and heading out of the theater with the group—only to be stopped at the exit by a surveyor.
The person handed him a soft Godzilla toy modeled after the movie version and asked, "Mind sharing your thoughts on the film you just watched?"
Shibamatsu gave the toy a quick glance and casually said, "Sure. The movie was average at best—couldn't hold a candle to Super 8."
When asked to give a score, he didn't hesitate to give it a low one.
Out of loyalty to Shinji Matou and respect for Alice's leadership, he gave it a bad review.
As they walked out of the cinema, Shibamatsu passed by a trash can.
Without thinking, he tossed the Godzilla toy straight into it.
That exact moment was captured by a passing journalist, and the photo ended up on the front page of the entertainment section the very next day.
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