Ever since Isabella arrived in Arica, little Robbie had been glued to her side.
Every day, she was either accompanying Isabella to work—recording The Voice—or running errands for her.
If Isabella was thirsty, Robbie dashed off to get her a drink.
If Isabella was hungry, Robbie ran to ask the crew when lunch would be ready.
If Isabella was tired, Robbie happily massaged her legs.
Basically, anything a regular assistant could do, Robbie could do too. Anything a regular assistant couldn't do—well, Robbie could still handle it. She was basically a one-girl decathlon team, and didn't even want a paycheck.
The reason for all this was simple: Robbie wasn't famous yet, and her age made casting awkward. Those two problems ant there weren't many roles for her, so after wrapping The Ga Plan, she was "unemployed again."
And today—since Robbie was the lead actress, she walked the red carpet with Dwayne Johnson. Isabella, being the big-shot producer, had to arrive earlier. If she'd gone with them, it would've looked bad. So they split up.
Technically, they'd only been apart for a few hours, but still—
"Oh, Margot, why are you frozen like that?"
When Isabella noticed Robbie standing stiffly by the theater doors, she asked curiously, "What's wrong? You spaced out?"
"Oh, Isa—because you're just too beautiful!" Robbie said sincerely once she snapped back to reality.
"You see every day, and you still think I'm beautiful?" Isabella chuckled.
"Mhm!" Robbie nodded eagerly. "You look different when you're dressed like a princess."
"Fine, co on." Isabella was clearly pleased with the complint.
She tilted her chin and gestured for Robbie to follow.
But just as she took a step, she paused again, turned, and held out her hand.
"Can you help a bit? The dress looks great, but it's really long. I don't wanna trip."
"Oh, of course~" Robbie imdiately offered her hand, smiling wide as they walked into the theater together.
Premieres are all the sa—the only real difference is your status.
If you're the biggest na in the room, you just stand there and exist. You are the event.
If you're not, well, too bad—half the places are off-limits to you.
Robbie had attended premieres before—like The Worlds Voice. But back then she was just a minor supporting role, moving chanically and trying not to be in the way.
Now? Even though being the lead didn't magically raise her rank, the fact that she was walking beside Isabella made her face freeze into a permanent, overexcited smile.
Not that she cared.
Because everyone they passed greeted her. The warmth, the complints, the smiles—it all made her feel like she'd beco a household na overnight.
Of course, she knew all of this was just Isabella's halo effect.
"So this is what being famous feels like?" she murmured, delighted.
As they finished socializing and started toward the screening hall, Robbie's face was practically glowing.
"Kind of," Isabella said. "When you're famous, you'll find that everyone in the world suddenly becos a good person."
"Ooh~~" Robbie's eyes sparkled. "Then I really have to work hard!"
Isabella knew what she ant—she wanted to reach A status.
And Isabella also knew she could.
Still, she added, "Fa and hard work aren't related. Working hard doesn't guarantee fa, and fa doesn't require hard work."
"Who says that?" Robbie tilted her head seriously. "Isa, that's wrong. People who work hard always get rewarded."
"Uh…" Isabella pursed her lips, unsure whether Robbie was being naïve or just cute.
Before she could answer, Robbie continued brightly, "Don't believe ? I've got proof! Like —when I worked hard to get you to sign , didn't that give a shot at fa? And when I work hard to get you to ntor , won't that make super famous?"
"…," Isabella fell silent.
As silly as that logic sounded… it sort of made sense?
"Oh, so that's why you've been sucking up to all this ti?" she said, pretending to frown like a scolded puppy.
"Of course~" Robbie said proudly, grinning like a little chick who'd found a worm.
Her hand only tightened around Isabella's.
When the movie started, the Beaver logo flashed across the screen—the production company's signature.
The audience chuckled knowingly. Anyone who hadn't seen those viral beaver stickers by now was basically living under a rock.
After the company logos, the film began.
Energetic music played over sweeping shots of Boston landmarks, instantly setting the scene. Then ca the graffiti-styled title—no exposition, no dialogue, but from the design alone, you could tell it was a light-hearted kids' movie.
Next was a slick montage: the cara panned across a trophy case, championship jerseys, dals, luxurious hos, healthy als, a ho gym—everything showing the protagonist's success, discipline, and wealth.
Then ca the cut—
Whoosh!
A bright red football jersey fell into fra.
The music stopped. The main character's face appeared. He was in a crucial ga—win, and they go to the finals. Lose, and it's over.
Honestly, Isabella's eyes lit up.
Because this opening? It was tight and powerful—expertly done.
In just three minutes, the director had established the character, the setting, and the core conflict.
The pacing was like those webnovel "golden first three chapters."
"This movie's actually good," Isabella said with genuine delight.
She wasn't faking it.
Before the premiere, she'd only read the script—she hadn't seen the finished product. So watching it now, with everyone else, was a real surprise.
Beside her, Robbie whispered, "Of course it's good. You produced it. Everyone knows your na guarantees attention—so as long as they made it well, success was inevitable!"
"…," Isabella shot her a sideways glance.
That honeyed tongue again. She snorted softly but couldn't hide the pleased flick of her taphorical tail.
The film's pacing stayed sharp, too.
Within minutes, Dwayne Johnson's character had t his surprise daughter—played by Robbie—and accepted his fate as a dad.
Five minutes flat. No dragging, no filler.
And that's what makes or breaks a comrcial film: pacing.
When a movie nails that, everything else falls into place.
Sure enough, as the father-daughter dynamic unfolded, the theater filled with laughter.
"Ha! He actually gave her a helt from his trunk because he thought kids in sports cars weren't safe? That's insane!"
"Right? Robbie's face was priceless!"
"Oh my god, he cooked enough pasta for ten people! The look on her face—ha!"
"Now he's covered in bubbles because she filled the bathtub to the brim—he looks like Santa Claus!"
"Wait, she put glitter on his footballs? And he's too proud to yell because one says MVP? His face! I can't breathe!"
Wave after wave of laughter rippled through the crowd, and Isabella finally relaxed.
Truthfully, the audience's reaction mattered a lot to her.
Because when she put her na on The Ga Plan as producer, she took a risk—if the film flopped, it would drain the goodwill she'd built with the public. And she had no intention of letting that happen.
But if the movie does well?
"Oh—you're gonna blow up—"
Isabella leaned to the side, grinning at little Robbie.
Robbie felt the sa, but she didn't want to follow the beaver girl's teasing. What she wanted to say was—
"Didn't I tell you hard work pays off?"
She turned, winking at Isabella.
"Hahaha~"
Isabella opened her mouth in a silent laugh—half in agreent, half from the itch to scratch open The Ga Plan's box-office "lottery ticket" and see what numbers it hid.
Sadly, she couldn't.
It was only December 5, 2003, and The Ga Plan wouldn't premiere until the 12th.
When the premiere and official release were a week apart, the "ticket" representing box-office performance couldn't be scratched yet.
The dia, though, didn't make anyone wait.
The next day, December 6, critics who had attended the premiere began posting their reviews:
The San Francisco Chronicle wrote:
"The Ga Plan is an excellent Christmas movie—a classic Disney family-style cody."
The Chicago Sun-Tis said:
"Though predictable, The Ga Plan still shines thanks to Dwayne Johnson and Margot Robbie. Johnson displays his codic chops, while Robbie sheds the mania of The Voice and perfectly captures a young girl's charm."
The Boston Globe comnted:
"Isabella once again shows her childlike innocence. Her endorsent of The Ga Plan reveals her inner sweetness. It might not impress critics, but for audiences, the story of a grumpy quarterback learning to be a good dad will make many smile."
Let's be honest: Disney's family movies almost never get high critical scores.
To adults, they're formulaic—cookie-cutter productions with no originality.
But that's the point.
They're not made for critics or film theorists. They're made for parents with kids, for young adults who just want to relax, for grown-ups nostalgic for childhood, and for anyone still craving a bit of fairytale magic.
And honestly? A non–LGBTQ Disney that can still dominate the market is terrifyingly good.
So when all the dia said The Ga Plan was "joyful"—well, that word landed right where the general public wanted it.
And the "general public" overlapped neatly with Isabella's fanbase.
Heh.
Even so, the hype for The Ga Plan wasn't number one that weekend.
Because on December 6, Saturday—
A new episode of The Voice dropped.
Predictably, another victory.
Then ca December 12—ti for The Ga Plan's big test.
It opened in 3,003 theaters across the U.S.
Opening-day box office: $15.46 million.
Number one on the daily chart.
That's already outstanding.
For comparison, Pixar's Finding Nemo had opened with $20.2 million.
Though The Ga Plan didn't beat it, $15.46 million generated even more buzz—because the #2 to #5 films that sa day looked like this:
#2: Sothing's Gotta Give – $5.27 million (opening day) #3: The Last Samurai – $4.27 million (day eight) #4: Stuck on You – $3.34 million (opening day) #5: Love Don't Cost a Thing – $2.21 million (opening day)
Yup.
The Ga Plan outgrossed the next four combined.
The industry gasped.
"OMG! What is happening?!"
Warner Bros. burst out laughing.
"Knew it! The whole Christmas slate this year's trash!"
They were delighted, convinced The Ga Plan had turned into The Vampire Plan—sucking everyone else dry.
And honestly? They weren't wrong.
Although the movie's second-day increase was only 5.8%—a modest $16.36 million—it wasn't the film's fault.
December 13 was another Saturday, aning The Voice aired again that evening.
Pri movie hours gone.
Even with roughly 45 million potential viewers occupied by the show, The Ga Plan still rose in box office.
That alone proved how magnetic it was.
Isabella's fans were insane:
Dayti, they watched her movie.
Nightti, her TV show.
On the way to the theater, they probably listened to her songs.
Afterward, they used her beaver emojis to post their feelings online.
She had basically monopolized an entire day of their joy.
When the Beaver Girl booted Doctor Strange and stole his Ti Stone, every insider saw what that ant for New Line Cinema.
"New Line-san—rest in peace—"
December 14, Sunday—
With The Voice disrupting viewing schedules, The Ga Plan's numbers kept climbing, hitting $18.76 million that day.
December 15, Monday—weekday drop plus The Voice: The Journey behind-the-scenes episode—
Still #1 at the box office, with $9.61 million.
December 16, Tuesday—down again, $8.64 million.
December 17, Wednesday—The Ga Plan finally lost the crown.
Because The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King opened.
Under its massive pressure, The Ga Plan earned $6.29 million.
But Return of the King—despite being the only true blockbuster that Christmas—debuted in 3,703 theaters with $29.77 million.
Didn't even crack 30.
Reason? Easy.
Even though exhibitors knew The Ga Plan had peaked, they hadn't pulled all its showings, so Return of the King couldn't monopolize screens.
And, well, Wednesday had another The Voice: Growth episode.
Failing to hit $30 million was like a church bell tolling in the dieval night—a death knell foretelling the end.
The next day, December 18 (Thursday), Return of the King crashed by over 50%, earning only $14.7 million.
It rebounded slightly:
Friday (Dec 19): $18.84 million Saturday (Dec 20): $23.74 million (even under pressure from The Voice's Final Four episode)
But still—
The Matrix Reloaded had a worse release window and made $134 million in four days.
Return of the King?
Only $87.05 million after four days.
Couldn't even touch Reloaded.
When Robert Shaye in New York saw that, he sighed deeply.
He knew it was over.
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