Peter's Film

Peter admired the theater marquee with the title of his film hanging block letter above him. He stood proudly and couldn’t wait for the world to watch his work. Peter saw a couple walk up the sidewalk and approach the ticket booth; he neared the counter to listen, but the couple purchased tickets to a different movie. He watched the couple enter and wondered if people had been coming to see it.

Peter asked the box office employee how many tickets were left for his movie. He reasoned that perhaps since it was so late at night that surely people were staying at home to sleep. The woman in the box office told him there were only two tickets purchased for the upcoming showtime. Discouraged, Peter asked if it was the last showing, to which she answered it was. So, Peter reasoned that perhaps people were at home sleeping so they could see his film bright and early tomorrow. But Peter asked a second question: how many tickets have been sold today for his movie. The woman took some time and scrolled through the different showings and told him that the most any showing sold was not even half-full.

Peter was confused. He worked hard on his craft, he put his heart into the work he made, and he so desperately wanted people to see it. This wasn’t some popcorn movie with explosions and cheesy dialogue – this was a work of art! This was a passionate film with a deep meaning, something the audience could resonate with! But for some reason nobody wanted to see his film.

He thanked the woman and walked down the street towards his car. He stuffed his hands in his pocket and contemplated his career. Though this wasn’t his first film, he hadn’t made a name for himself, the way household directors have. He had made good connections in the industry and was able to gather together filmmakers to start projects and pass around his scripts, but what was the point, he thought, if no one would see them? He reasoned with himself that tomorrow he’d check back at the theater and see if perhaps tomorrow would be better.

Peter returned to the theater and decided he’d purchase a ticket for his own film. After taking his ticket he asked how many people had purchased tickets for that showing. They told him only 10. He thanked them and walked inside to purchase popcorn; and as he did he reasoned with himself that perhaps it was too early in the morning for a theater to be packed. Peter paid for a large buttery tub of popcorn and walked into auditorium 8, where he walked down the dark carpeted hallway and emerged in the theater room. He saw that the woman was right and there were only about 10 people in the audience. He chose to be hopeful that the 10 people that made up this morning’s audience would be so inspired and amazed by his art that they’d share the gospel of his film, reaching hundreds and then thousands to millions to laud his craft.

The lights dimmed and his film started. He watched it with pride, remembering the production and several takes for certain scenes, how his leading actor had improvised that brilliant line, how his DP and first AC worked for more than hour just to get the light to shine her eyes like so… he was impressed with his crew, and truly thought his film was wonderful.

The film finished and the credits rolled. Peter sat in the auditorium and waited to witness the peoples’ reaction. They simply stood up from their seats and left. No one applauded or commented to each other on the film. Peter was truly confused. He had just watched the film with that and witnessed the same art they had, and even though he’d seen it dozens and dozens of times while editing he was still impressed with the work. He sat in the theater alone and tried his very best to reason why this had occurred, but nothing came to mind. He couldn’t understand this time why they didn’t respond the way he wanted them to. A theater usher entered the auditorium and began sweeping up dropped popcorn. It was time for him to leave.

Peter sat outside at a restaurant and enjoyed a sandwich – enjoying it as best he could as his mind was still so occupied on the minimal response to his film. This was opening weekend and he knew this was surely the best box office weekend he’d have for the film, and yet hardly anyone was coming to see it. He thought hard and began reasoning with himself that perhaps he isn’t as good as he believes. If he were better, he thought, then maybe more people would see his movie. To do all that work for nothing demoralized Peter. When he watched the film he admired his cast and crew, and he believed he had created a fantastic film; but if no one saw it, he felt it was all a waste.

He took another bite of his sandwich and began reasoning further that perhaps, since he hasn’t been successful like he wanted, he should consider giving up. He felt grateful to have made feature films, but without the audience reacting positively and with so little people coming to watch the film, he reasoned that he shouldn’t be a filmmaker any longer. He wasn’t good enough.

A teenage girl walked up to him, about 16, and interrupted his lunch. Peter looked up and saw the girl.

“Excuse me,” she began politely. “You Peter Bellingham. I just saw your latest film and I thought it was amazing. Would you be alright if I asked for a picture together?”

Peter was speechless. He agreed and she came closer to take a picture together.

“Thank you,” she resumed. “I was so inspired by the film. I didn’t know anyone felt the way I did about life until I saw this. I was ready to give up on life because I thought I was alone. But I’m not, and your film has truly inspired me. Thank you. I can’t wait to see your next movie.”

She waved goodbye and left. Peter waved back and sat there motionless. He watched the girl leave and reasoned with himself that it doesn’t matter if the world will praise his work, as long as someone is reached. Perhaps, he thought, it’s more important to change one person’s life forever than to be celebrated by thousands.