"Our next guest is the writer, actor, and creator of the biggest-ROI horror phenomenon in history… please give a huge round of applause for Owen Ashford!" Jimmy Fallon announced.
As Owen heard his introduction, he stepped forward. He entered from the side of the set onto the main stage of The Tonight Show: the polished wooden desk, the city of New York lit up as the backdrop, the studio's bluish tones, warm lights highlighting the set, and the audience seated in the stands. The moment he appeared on camera, the applause exploded.
Matt whistled so loudly it could be heard from several rows back. Sophie clapped with genuine enthusiasm. Elizabeth and Edward were grinning from ear to ear. Larry was too. Sarah cheered without any restraint.
As for James, he applauded with professional elegance, until Emily noticed.
"Clap with a little more enthusiasm, James! It's your brother on Jimmy Fallon!" Emily said, nudging him with her elbow.
James made a slight grimace, but without disobeying his wife, he immediately corrected himself and clapped more energetically.
Jimmy Fallon stood up and extended his arm with a big smile, "You're blowing up right now, man. Thank you for being here!"
Owen replied, shaking his hand firmly, "Thank you for having me."
After the handshake, he sat down on the guest couch, which was dark gray, modern, and very comfortable, it must be said.
Jimmy returned to his wooden desk with the built-in microphone, decorative coffee mugs, and papers covered in notes. The LED screen behind him showed a stylized nighttime view of the Manhattan skyline.
The applause died down, and Jimmy looked at Owen with an expression of amused surprise.
"Twenty years old, right?"
"For now, yeah," Owen replied. "Twenty-one soon."
"Really? When's your birthday?" Jimmy asked, genuinely curious.
"December fourth," Owen answered casually, as if he were talking to a friend he'd just met.
Jimmy raised his eyebrows, "That's really soon! I'll send you flowers or something!"
"A gift from Jimmy Fallon… I've already checked off one of my goals for the year," Owen commented with a relaxed smile and a hint of sarcasm.
Jimmy stared at him for a moment, eyes widening theatrically, then burst out laughing.
The audience laughed with him.
"One of your goals for the year," Jimmy repeated, shaking his head. "Man, you've accomplished more than one goal this year! You made a movie that's earned almost one hundred and forty-three million dollars. That's insane! How does it feel when you hear that?"
Paranormal Activity had reached $142,890,000 as of Monday the 28th. It only had Tuesday the 29th and Wednesday the 30th left before leaving theaters, so it was likely to reach $143 million. It was already playing in fewer than a thousand theaters, and on Monday it had only brought in one hundred thousand dollars. The end of its theatrical run was near.
Owen shrugged, honest, "I don't know… happy, I guess."
Jimmy looked at him like he couldn't believe it, then turned to the audience.
"Dude, you have the highest-ROI movie in history! More than seven thousand times its budget! You completely blow the second place out of the water. Come on, show a little more excitement!"
The audience burst into laughter, and Owen smiled too, carried along by the atmosphere.
When the laughter died down, he explained himself.
"It's not that I'm not excited. But I've been processing all of this for weeks now, so… I kind of absorbed it over time. It's become part of everyday life."
Jimmy nodded understandingly, "That makes sense. The movie's been in theaters for almost three months. I guess after being surprised for that long, the shock wears off."
Owen nodded, "Exactly."
Jimmy leaned forward slightly, intrigued, "But beyond talking about the ROI, there's something I really want to know: how did you come up with the idea? And how did you pull it off? Everything. The script, the shoot, the editing, sending it to the festival, landing a deal with A24…"
The audience murmured, expectant.
Jimmy raised his hands, pointing toward Owen.
"You're the actor, the creator, the writer, the financier! You literally did everything. Where does a twenty-year-old even begin to pull that off?"
All eyes turned to Owen. The audience fell silent, and Jimmy looked at him with genuine curiosity.
Owen shifted slightly in his seat and replied, "It all started when I got expelled from college."
A soft murmur rippled through the crowd, and Jimmy's eyes went wide as he immediately turned to the camera, as if inviting the audience to share in his surprise.
"Oh, right!" Jimmy said a few seconds later, snapping his fingers. "I remember that from an interview you did with Variety. Expelled from USC, right?"
"Exactly. That was the trigger," Owen nodded, without any drama.
"Wow… what a way to succeed. Expelled from college, just like Mark Zuckerberg with Harvard!" Jimmy joked, laughing.
"Well, he dropped out, he wasn't expelled," he quickly added, raising a finger as if correcting his own joke.
Owen smiled, "Yeah… let's just say I wasn't the best student. And unlike Zuckerberg, Paranormal Activity isn't going to make me a billionaire or the ruler of modern civilization."
The audience burst into laughter.
Jimmy opened his mouth in mock outrage and looked at the camera, as if seeking the audience's complicity, "Ruler of modern civilization! Oh my God!" he said, laughing.
Owen smile and, without changing his tone, looked straight into the camera, "I'm just kidding. Mark… if for some reason you're watching this, it's a joke. Please don't spy on my Facebook or Instagram."
The audience exploded with laughter. Jimmy literally leaned back in his chair, laughing and covering his face with one of the show's cue cards.
A few years earlier, the British consulting firm Cambridge Analytica had collected data from millions of Facebook users without their informed consent, mainly for political advertising purposes. In response, Facebook apologized for its role in the data collection, and its CEO, Mark Zuckerberg, was forced to testify before the United States Congress. In July 2019, it was announced that the Federal Trade Commission would fine Facebook five billion dollars for its privacy violations.
Jimmy, recovering, pointed at Owen, "And he says it so calmly! With a level of calm that's scarier than your movie."
Owen chuckled softly, "If my accounts disappear tomorrow, we'll know why."
When the laughter died down, Jimmy took a deep breath and slapped his desk, as if signaling a change of segment.
"Alright, alright… let's leave the big tech companies behind and get back to what matters. You get expelled from college and after that you create Paranormal Activity, right? I read a Twitter thread that said you sold your car to finance it. Is that true?"
"It is. A BMW, actually," Owen said, looking at him with mild surprise. "You know quite a lot."
Jimmy smiled, "I spend more time on Twitter than I should," he said, and the audience laughed again.
Jimmy got back on track, aware that TV time was limited, "So… you sell your BMW. Why? I mean, couldn't you just ask your parents for the money? If they were paying for USC, which isn't cheap, I assume they could've given you part of that tuition for your project."
The question was clearly humorous in tone, but underneath it there was real curiosity. Jimmy avoided asking something too direct, like: If your parents are upper-class, why did you have to sell your car yourself?
The doubt was implicit.
"Let's just say…" Owen began with a restrained smile, "when you get expelled from college, the smartest move isn't asking your parents for twenty thousand dollars."
The audience burst into laughter. Jimmy nodded as well, it was almost obvious.
Owen continued, "My parents told me that since I wasn't taking things seriously, they were going to stop giving me money. And honestly, it was the right decision, considering my behavior at the time."
He paused briefly.
"That helped me appreciate things more. I was living in an apartment they were paying for and suddenly I was expelled, without college, without financial support, and without the privileges I'd always had. So I thought: I have to do something."
Jimmy tilted his head, listening closely, "And that 'something' was making a movie?"
"Yes," Owen said.
"Why write it yourself? I mean, you're an actor, you were in the acting program, right?"
"That's true, but I knew auditions are extremely competitive. It would've taken a long time, and I figured that since I'd always liked writing stories, I could do it myself instead of waiting for someone to hire me. I needed to think as cheaply as possible. And you know… horror. It's the genre where you can work with a very low budget and, if it's done well, it can work."
The audience murmured in approval.
"Then I remembered The Blair Witch Project. And I instantly decided I had to use the found-footage technique. But I wanted it to be even cheaper than The Blair Witch Project. So I thought: a single location. One house. Two main characters. And that's how the idea started to take shape."
Jimmy raised his eyebrows, impressed, "I can't believe something so simple ended up becoming the most profitable movie in history."
"It all looked very improvised, yeah. Especially when I sold the BMW to finance it. But later, when I closed the first two deals, I realized it could actually work."
"Oh, the first two deals…" Jimmy repeated. "Matt Rogers and Sophie Thatcher?"
"Exactly. Matt and I knew each other from USC, and he was key throughout the whole process."
Jimmy laughed, pointing at him with one of the show's cue cards, "Well, I guess going to USC was good for something after all!"
The audience laughed along with the joke, and Owen smiled too.
"Definitely," Owen said. "And then I cast Sophie as the female lead. She was essential as well. Her acting level is incredibly high… so high that, honestly, for how little I paid her, I almost feel bad."
The audience laughed at his honesty.
Jimmy spread his hands, "Hey! Don't say that out loud! The unions are going to come after you."
Owen raised his hands as if defending himself against a crime, "I'm covered. The production is registered with SAG-AFTRA, everything's in order. It was ultra, low budget, I paid exactly what was required within that range."
The audience murmured in agreement, understanding that for a movie that had been made so cheaply, even "fair pay" sounded ridiculous now that it was a massive success.
Jimmy lightly tapped the desk with his cue card, amused, "Well, Matt and Sophie must be feeling very appreciated right now."
The cameras quickly panned to the audience, where Matt made an exaggerated I deserve this gesture, while Sophie put a hand to her forehead with a shy smile.
"Please give it up for Matt and Sophie! Key pieces of Paranormal Activity!" Jimmy exclaimed.
The audience responded with a strong, warm round of applause. When it died down, Jimmy turned back to Owen.
"Alright, let's recap: expelled, life reset, you sell your BMW to make your own movie and avoid endless auditions, you hire two talented people… what comes next?"
Owen nodded, picking up the thread.
"Production wrapped, and we submitted the movie to the Palm Springs Film Festival. It was accepted, and it did really well, so well that they gave us an extra screening, in the biggest theater. That's where distribution interest from A24 and Blumhouse came in. In the end, I closed the deal with A24, where I negotiated a percentage of the box office, and then everything you already know happened."
Jimmy's eyes widened, impressed, "Whoa! That's a very unusual deal."
The audience murmured in agreement.
It wasn't common for a debut filmmaker to keep a box-office percentage and the IP. Normally, A24 would've paid a flat fee, taken all the rights, and that would've been it.
"Yeah…" Owen continued. "I already had The Blair Witch Project case in mind. Seeing how well the movie did at the festival, with two studios interested in distributing it, I never planned on selling it for a fixed sum."
Jimmy pointed at Owen like he'd just passed a major exam, "And you were absolutely right! One of the smartest moves in Hollywood in recent years!"
The audience applauded the recognition.
"Alright…" Jimmy said, settling back in his chair as if turning a page.
"Now that we know the epic story of Paranormal Activity, I want to talk about your YouTube channel… Second Take Film!"
Owen smiled, already anticipating that something fun was coming.
"I'm subscribed, by the way!" Jimmy added, raising his arm as if making an important confession. "And I think a lot of people here are too. Come on, people, subscribe! We're getting close to two million!"
The audience applauded and laughed at Jimmy's enthusiasm. Owen nodded, grateful for the free promotion.
"Almost two million subscribers with fewer than ten videos…" Jimmy continued, waving his cue card as if he couldn't believe it. "And short films you created yourself, again, all with millions of views, great reviews, and…"
Jimmy paused dramatically before exclaiming,
"Two of them accepted into Sundance! Paperman and One-Minute Time Machine. Congratulations!"
…
POV Jimmy Fallon
The audience's reaction to my comment was immediate: a collective, loud "woooow," followed by a round of applause that echoed throughout the studio.
As the audience applauded, I looked at the kid sitting across from me.
Owen Ashford.
Twenty years old, almost twenty-one. He wore a slight, calm smile, looking out at the audience as if quietly thanking them for the applause.
I have to admit, he'd made a few dry jokes I hadn't expected at all, but they were funny. He was turning out to be a guest who surprised me far more than when I'd read his profile before the show.
Owen dipped his head in gratitude for the applause, but without overdoing it. Grateful, yes. Excited… well, if he was, he hid it perfectly.
When the ovation died down, he simply said, "Yeah… it's crazy. And I'm really glad both of them were accepted."
I raised a hand in protest, almost indignant.
"Calm again! It's Sundance, man! They get over ten thousand short film submissions and accept between fifty and eighty. That's a one percent acceptance rate, or less! And you got two!"
The audience reacted with amazement once more.
"You might be the only creator with two shorts accepted, which means you've got better odds of winning," I said, astonished.
Sundance is one of the most competitive festivals in the world for short films. Every year they receive more than 10,000 applications, and only accept between 0.5% and 1%. For a single creator to get two shorts in the same year is almost unheard of, possibly unique.
Owen chuckled softly, "Yeah… I'm still processing it. Statistically, it didn't make sense for them to accept two. But here we are."
I looked at him with a smile.
"Paperman," I continued, leaning my elbows on the desk, "the aesthetic is beautiful, the music too, and the acting, everything. You're working with Sophie Thatcher again. They don't say a single word in the entire short, but they communicate everything. People are saying it's one of the clear favorites."
"Thank you. We made it with a lot of care. Everyone worked really hard on that project, and I'm very happy with the recognition it's getting. Hopefully it does well at the festival," he said with a calmness that already seemed to be part of who he was.
I nodded and moved on to the next one, "And One-Minute Time Machine… you don't act in that one. But it did just as well, actually, it has even more views."
"Yeah, I was only involved in the writing and production," he said, as if it were no big deal.
"It's really funny, I've watched it like four times already! And the lead actress is… your sister, right?" I said, and he nodded.
"Yes, my younger sister. Sarah. She's in the audience. She's a huge fan of this show."
I turned toward the audience with a big smile.
"Sarah? Where are you? Hi!"
A spotlight came on over a young girl, who shrank into herself for a second before forcing a smile and raising her hand.
The audience laughed warmly.
Owen chimed in, in that calm tone of his, "She's a little shy at first, but then her real personality comes out. And it's scary."
The audience burst into laughter.
So did I, especially when I saw the girl, Sarah, frown and look at him as if she were already planning her revenge.
I placed a hand on my chest, pretending to be alarmed, "Yeah, yeah, I see it. She's got that 'you're dead when we get home' look."
Sarah tried to keep her composure but ended up smiling as the audience cheered her on from the stands.
I turned back to Owen, who didn't seem at all afraid of his sister's potential retaliation.
"Well, if you survive that look, let me ask you something. You've got this YouTube channel with almost two million subscribers, fewer than ten videos, all extremely popular, high-quality short films, and now two accepted into Sundance…"
I paused dramatically, raising my eyebrows.
"Where did that idea come from? Why create this channel and jump into making short films like that, so polished and so successful?"
The audience fell silent, anticipating the story behind his channel. I was genuinely curious. In just a few months, he'd uploaded four short films, each with millions of views and strong critical reception. That wasn't normal. How could someone release one after another that fast?
It was unusual. In this business, nothing grows that fast, or at least, it usually doesn't.
"As I told you… I was expelled from college. That was in February," he began.
"And immediately after that, I focused on Paranormal Activity: pre-production, filming, post-production. But after that, I was free."
"Free and homeless?" I commented.
"Exactly," he said, without losing his sense of humor. "My parents weren't going to keep paying for my apartment. And I didn't want to go back home. I wanted to stay independent, but I no longer had their money. I had to support myself."
The audience murmured in understanding.
"Of the money I got from selling the BMW, seventy percent went straight into Paranormal Activity. What I had left was for rent, food… the basics. And I knew I could only survive like that for a few months."
"So you looked for auditions," I said, guessing.
"Yes. I started looking for castings on Backstage, Actors Access, MyCastings… all those platforms. I didn't have any connections in Hollywood, and I didn't really take advantage of USC to make them so I was on my own."
The audience laughed a bit at that self-critical honesty.
"So, to avoid crawling back to my parents," Owen added, with seriousness mixed with humor, "I decided to work in anything I could get: small roles, background work, whatever came up."
"And… did it work?" I asked, leaning in.
"Not at all."
The audience burst into laughter.
"Nothing worked. I spent more time auditioning than working. And when I did get something, I barely made enough to cover rent. Forget about the rest of the expenses."
I made a grand, Greek-tragedy gesture with my hands, "Hollywood at its finest!"
The audience laughed, and Owen continued:
"I needed to find another way to make money, or I'd be in serious trouble. Paranormal Activity had been accepted into Palm Springs, which showed potential, but it was still a long way from bringing in real profit."
"You didn't have distribution secured at that point, right?" I added.
He nodded.
"The film was going to Palm Springs, but distribution came after that. So I had nothing guaranteed, just hope. And then I thought: if my first movie was accepted into a major festival, then the script must've been decent, right?"
The audience laughed at the logic.
"With that in mind, I wrote my second feature-length script: The Spectacular Now. I posted it on The Black List, and shortly after, I managed to sell it. Not completely, but I sold the initial rights for fifteen thousand dollars. That gave me some breathing room."
"Fifteen thousand dollars! That's fresh air for a young artist!" I said, throwing my hands up.
As the audience laughed, I was struck by how brutally honest Owen was with the numbers. Most writers, actors, or anyone in the industry wouldn't openly say how much they were paid for a job. This kid not only said it without hesitation, but with complete ease.
"Yes," Owen continued, "with that money I thought: if my first two scripts were well received, why not create a YouTube channel with short films? Scripts that are easier to produce, faster, and a way to build my own résumé without depending on auditions that weren't accepting me."
The audience nodded with a murmur of approval.
"And that's how Second Take Film was born," he concluded.
I nodded, impressed, just like many people in the audience, I was sure.
"And you really nailed it," I said, pointing at him with the show's cue card. "Four short films, all viral, all critically acclaimed, all accepted by Short of the Week, two at Sundance, and already with a large, loyal community."
The audience applauded.
Owen nodded and finished with that calm he had for saying outrageous things as if they were cooking tips.
"Yeah. The key was getting expelled from college and my parents stopping their indulgence. A dose of reality, I guess."
The audience burst into laughter. I couldn't help laughing either, it was too honest.
"The key to success!" I said, raising my hands.
"It was either that or spending ten years auditioning until, if I was lucky, someone gave me a decent role," Owen added.
The audience laughed even harder. There was something about his delivery, that almost flat, understated humor, that made everything funnier.
As the audience kept laughing, I thought something I don't often think about young guests, or about anyone, really. This audience isn't easy. They don't laugh at just anything, unless a mega-celebrity shows up and they applaud by default.
But with Owen, the laughter was genuine. Not over-the-top, but everyone was hooked and completely attentive whenever he talked about his story and anecdotes. And you could tell these weren't prepared jokes, he didn't have that anxious comedian vibe, desperate for approval.
His humor felt accidental, and that made it more effective. Dry, funny, and unexpected, with great timing.
I took a deep breath, let the audience calm down, and rested my hand on the desk.
"Well," I said, shifting tone, "since you mentioned auditions, I want to ask you something. Your casting phase. It sounds like it wasn't very fruitful, do you have any memorable anecdote?"
This wasn't in the planned questions and it could make the interview longer, but to hell with it, it's working. The audience is loving this, I thought.
Owen blinked a couple of times. He hadn't expected that. He looked up for a second, like someone rummaging through a mental drawer full of trauma.
"Yeah… I've got one," he finally said.
I saw several people in the audience shift in their seats, anticipating the story.
"It was shortly after finishing the first cut of Paranormal Activity," Owen began, "right when Matt and I sent the film to Palm Springs to see if it would be accepted or not. I found an audition on Backstage for a three-million-dollar movie."
I whistled softly, genuinely surprised.
"Three million from Backstage! That's like finding gold at a McDonald's."
Some laughter rippled through the audience, and Owen continued.
"It wasn't for the lead, obviously, but it was an important supporting role. Which was pretty good, considering my non-existent résumé at the time."
The audience reacted with a murmur that mixed understanding and amusement.
"I sent my reels, photos, everything. Honestly, I didn't expect them to call me. I couldn't list Paranormal Activity because it wasn't finished yet, and all I had was less than a year in USC's acting program. Possibly the worst résumé among all the actors."
That comment got a soft but sustained laugh. There was something about the way he said it, that disarming calm, no self-pity, that made everyone connect with him.
"But they call me," Owen went on. "And I think, okay, maybe my luck is changing. I dress well, wear cologne. I was pretty optimistic, I'll admit it. Mistake."
I was already leaning toward him, like he was telling me a very long joke. I knew, without a doubt, that this was about to go downhill.
"I get there, and there are more than a hundred people waiting. All my age, with agents, real résumés, and more experience. I knew the odds of landing that role were lower than Sundance accepting my short films…"
That comparison made a lot of people laugh. Including me.
It was funny not because it was exaggerated, but because it came from the only guy in the world who could literally say that.
I nodded slowly, imagining the scene. So far, it was a simple story, an audition like the thousands that happen in this city, but he was telling it with such an unusual calm that every detail became funnier than it had any right to be.
"But hey, I'd already paid for the Uber, and honestly I had nothing else to do, so I waited. Two hours. Until they finally called me in."
He paused briefly and continued.
"I walk into the room. They read my name… and one of them asks, 'Did you apply through Backstage?' I said yes. And he replied, 'This must be a system error.'"
The audience reacted instantly: laughter mixed with that empathetic wince, as if everyone felt the secondhand stab.
I couldn't help it, I put a hand to my forehead. It was too much.
"Did they really say that to you?" I asked, even though it was obvious they had.
"Yes," Owen said. "They blamed the system. Clearly someone had made a mistake by letting me through. But out of courtesy… or pity… they let me audition. I did the audition. I left. And they never called me back."
I let out a long exhale.
"Wow," I said, sinking back into my chair. "I don't even know if I want to know what the movie was called."
"The Girl in the Backseat. By Calico Pictures. Directed by Nick Laurant," Owen replied with the precision of someone reading from a legal file.
I stared at him for a few seconds, "Man… you said that way too fast. Like you were submitting evidence in a trial."
The audience laughed, and Owen, without changing his tone, added, "It's important that it's clear who they were."
My eyes widened, I hadn't expected that, "Whoa! Direct retaliation. I didn't see that coming."
"I'm a petty person," Owen said, with humor so subtle that instead of sounding aggressive, it landed as funny.
But he immediately shifted tone.
"Seriously, though… it didn't bother me. It was weird that I'd passed the first filter. I knew it. They knew it. For me, it was just a curious anecdote. Nothing more. Stuff like that happens all the time in auditions. It's not like I hold a grudge."
"Did it affect you?" I asked, more serious than usual.
"No. Not at all. And besides…" Owen replied, raising an eyebrow slightly, like someone setting up a punchline, "Which one of the two has the better ROI? The Girl in the Backseat or Paranormal Activity?"
The laughter came immediately, it was the perfect line, right on the edge between arrogance and a joke.
"Alright, alright. We're running out of time, and we still have two important topics to cover." I leaned forward slightly.
"Your script: The Spectacular Now. It was bought by none other than A24, and not only that, they hired you to star in it!"
The audience applauded in congratulations.
"You basically skipped the traditional rules almost every actor in the industry has to follow," I added with a smile.
"Yeah," Owen said in his usual calm tone, "it was a stroke of luck to connect with A24. They also distributed Paranormal Activity, so there was already trust there. That helped a lot."
"And the movie wrapped filming recently, right?" I asked.
"Yes," he replied. "A few weeks ago. We shot in Georgia."
"Okay." I took a breath, like someone about to open a door everyone knows is there.
"I know we can't talk about the plot for obvious reasons, but your co-star is Jenna Ortega."
An immediate ohhh rippled through the studio, as if everyone had been waiting for me to finally say it.
"The most popular actress on the planet right now," I added, emphasizing every word and looking straight into the camera.
I turned back to Owen and asked, "What was it like working with her?"
He didn't hesitate for a second. "It was great. Jenna is extremely professional. Punctual. Very meticulous. She takes everything seriously, from the simplest rehearsal to the most emotional scene."
I nodded, it made sense.
I'd seen interviews of her circulating online these past few days: disciplined, serious, and very focused.
She still hadn't been on my show, a cosmic injustice we'd fix soon, but she had been on Jimmy Kimmel a week before the premiere of Wednesday. And if things kept going the way they were, when she finally came here, it would be a massive episode.
"Now… the shoot happened before Wednesday premiered," I said. "Did you talk about that at all? Did she expect it to blow up like it did?"
Owen shook his head gently, "At first, we didn't talk much," he said. "We just worked. But as the shoot went on and we had more conversations, we ended up talking about future projects, and Wednesday came up, it was right around the corner."
He paused briefly, remembering.
"And from the way she talked about it, she didn't expect it at all. For her, it was a show she'd given everything to, but she didn't imagine it would turn into what it became."
"And it's not a coincidence," Owen continued.
"She really did an excellent job playing Wednesday Addams. You can see it on screen. There's a lot of work behind that."
I nodded again. It was obvious he was speaking from respect, and from having seen her work up close.
"Any on-set anecdotes?" I asked, leaning toward him with the curiosity of someone who already wants the behind-the-scenes story.
"Anything at all. Nothing confidential, of course."
The audience shifted in their seats, attentive.
Owen thought for just a few seconds, long enough for the audience to hold its breath, and then he spoke:
"Well… we both mess up very rarely during scenes," he began. "But in the last week of filming, I flubbed a line twice in a row. And Jenna found it funny, because it had never happened before."
The audience laughed immediately. I smiled, listening closely, already knowing something good was coming.
"She teased me a bit," Owen continued, "but in the next scene, she messed up. And I didn't let it slide. I teased her right back."
"You got competitive!" I said, laughing.
"Very much," Owen admitted. "So much so that we ended up turning it into a formal competition all the way to the end of the shoot. Whoever had fewer flubbed lines won."
"The question is… who won?" I asked, with just enough urgency to really want the answer.
The audience leaned forward as if it were the final second of the Super Bowl.
"It was a tough competition," Owen said, playing with the pause. "And a fun one. But… I ended up winning."
My eyes went wide, "Really?! By how much?!"
"I had three mistakes," Owen said, holding up three fingers. "And she had four. Very close. We took it so seriously that every line felt like someone was pointing a gun at us from behind the camera."
The audience erupted. It was impossible not to imagine the two of them, ultra-professional, repeating lines in their heads, terrified of messing up, like they were defusing bombs.
"Oh, there was one more thing," Owen suddenly said, and the audience went silent immediately.
I stayed quiet, giving him space.
"On the last day of shooting, a Saturday," he continued, "we decided to go out with Jenna, the director Elijah, and the cinematographer, Grace, to celebrate wrapping. The idea was to watch a movie."
I nodded and kept listening.
"But they wanted to watch a super cinephile movie. Very long, existential, and hard to follow, after an intense shoot… Jenna and I wanted to watch… I don't know… something lighter. Explosions, jokes, easy to follow."
"So we decided the most adult way possible: rock, paper, scissors, best of three."
I raised both eyebrows. The audience was already loving the story.
"Jenna said she would represent us. That she was really good at that game."
Owen made a look of disbelief and went on, "I thought, how can you be good at a game that's literally random? But she looked so confident that I said, fine, go for it."
"And what happened? Is there such a thing as the Jenna Ortega method for rock, paper, scissors?" I asked, slapping my desk as if demanding urgent answers.
"Yes… first she lost, and at that point I thought she was a fraud," Owen said with a slight smile, and the audience laughed.
"But in the second round she won, and it was tied. In the third round, she threw rock and won. Two to one."
The laughter grew louder. More than a few people in the audience were surely imagining Jenna, with her Wednesday-like neutral expression, throwing rock like it was a lethal move.
I leaned on my desk, "Did she explain the method? The trick? The secret rock-paper-scissors strategy?"
Owen nodded slowly, "Yes."
"Enlighten us!" I said, spreading my arms dramatically.
"It's a secret, sorry," Owen said, shrugging.
"Come on!" I said indignantly, though I could tell by his face he wasn't going to say it.
"Alright, let's see if this method actually works. You versus me. Best of three. If I win… you reveal the Jenna Ortega method."
The audience lit up. Owen nodded, accepting the challenge.
We got ready and said in unison, "Rock, paper, scissors!"
I threw paper. He threw rock. I won.
"Point for me!" I celebrated, throwing my arms up, "Looks like the method isn't very effective."
The audience applauded, laughing.
Owen didn't even flinch, "Don't celebrate yet," he said, adjusting in his seat like he was entering real combat.
I chuckled under my breath. This wasn't in the script, but it was turning out great. I had no idea what he was actually going to throw.
"Rock, paper, scissors!"
I threw paper again, but he threw scissors.
"Tch, tie," I said, clicking my tongue.
We prepared for the final round.
"Rock, paper, scissors!"
This time I threw rock, but Owen chose paper. I lost.
"No way!" I said, eyes wide. "That had to be luck again!" I added, refusing to believe there was a real method behind it.
The second match began with applause setting the rhythm.
Owen laughed and accepted. I lost again.
"This can't be happening!" I said, collapsing back into my seat like I'd just lost a world championship.
"What is this?! What kind of dark magic is this?!"
"You said it yourself, it's the Jenna Ortega method," Owen said solemnly.
The entire studio was losing it. Several people in the audience started shouting for Owen to reveal the method.
But I raised a hand toward the crowd with a theatrical gesture, calling for silence like I was stopping an enraged mob.
"Do not provoke Wednesday Addams, people," I said with mock gravity, sending the audience into another fit of laughter.
"I lost fair and square. I accept my fate. I will discover the method when I defeat Jenna Ortega at this game…"
I turned slightly toward the camera, leaning in, going full dramatic.
"…right here."
The audience roared again, delighted by the promise.
As the laughter continued, I took a deep breath and waited a few seconds, letting the noise die down.
When the studio returned to its usual hum, I looked back at him.
"Alright…" I said, still smiling like someone processing what had just happened. "Before we end up playing Twister in the middle of the studio… let's get back to business. I've got one last question."
Owen shifted slightly, tilting his head with relaxed confidence.
"Shoot."
I smiled, unable to hide it, "I saw your latest YouTube video," I said, pointing at him like it was a friendly accusation. "Not a short film… a vlog."
The audience immediately murmured. Yes, many of them already knew exactly what I was talking about.
"With your friend Matt, who, by the way, has more energy than I do, and that's saying something," I added, triggering a wave of laughter.
"You went to professional film equipment stores and…" I raised three fingers as if delivering a verdict, "spent more than two hundred and sixty thousand dollars on film gear!"
"I seriously doubt that's just for more short films, right?" I continued, leaning toward him.
"Are you planning a new movie? Can you tell us anything?"
Owen didn't hesitate, he simply smiled calmly.
"It's true that equipment that expensive would be strange just for short films. And yes, I can say that my next feature film is already in motion."
The audience reacted with an almost instinctive "ooooh," followed by applause.
I opened my eyes, genuinely surprised. I hadn't expected such a direct answer.
"Really?"
"Yes," he replied without drama, like he was stating the time.
"I can't say too much yet, but the script is already finished. I just need the box-office money from Paranormal Activity to come in so I can start."
I let out a short, disbelieving laugh, resting my hand on the desk.
"Whoa… most people would take some time off after a success like Paranormal Activity. And you're ready to spend the money on another movie as soon as you have the money!"
"I like to keep moving," he said, almost as an explanation.
It was a simple comment, but it gave me the sense of someone who never plans to slow down.
And right then I noticed we were already well over our scheduled time. It had to be one of the longest interviews of the past month, and yet no one seemed annoyed, not even the production crew.
"Well… that's all the time we have," I said with a wide, almost celebratory smile.
"Ladies and gentlemen, a huge round of applause for Owen Ashford, actor, writer, producer, creator of the highest ROI in history, and soon to be back with a brand-new movie!"
The audience exploded into applause.
Owen stood up, shook my hand firmly, then gave the audience a brief bow, not over the top, just a respectful nod that sparked another burst of applause.
"Thank you for having me," he said, before turning and disappearing off the same side of the stage he'd entered from.
As I watched him go, I thought honestly: That kid is coming back.
Maybe with this new movie he says he already has written, or with The Spectacular Now alongside Jenna Ortega.
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Link: https://[email protected]/Nathe07