When it came time for the actual shooting, Duke still gave that assistant photographer a certain degree of autonomy. After all, a person wasn't a machine—so long as the assistant followed his general direction, that was good enough.
Moreover, the temporary still photographer was a smart person. While shooting according to Duke's instructions, he never shot from the same angle as the main camera.
A still photograph could differ in framing from the actual film shot. It didn't have to mimic the director's camera setup. In fact, it often had to be different, because film tells its story through moving images, while still photography tells it through a single frame. Besides, stills can always be edited or cropped later.
Therefore, as long as a still photo could depict the story, medium or close shots were generally the best choice. However, there was one thing the still had to share with the movie: the conveyed emotion had to be identical. Whatever the film sought to highlight, the still should highlight too. If the film was a lighthearted and tender one, but the stills looked cold, harsh, and bleak—how could that be acceptable?
Then there was Duke's large-scale use of green screen effects. Many key scenes were filmed entirely against green backdrops, meaning there were no actual background visuals. How, then, could still photographs be taken?
Such scenes were often crucial moments in the story—it would be impossible not to have promotional stills. There was only one solution: capture high-definition frames from the post-production footage. These still frames could meet the basic needs of press releases, but their image quality would be significantly inferior.
As for images used in film promotion and marketing, what else could the crew provide besides stills? Behind-the-scenes photos of the crew at work could be quite interesting and widely shareable—but even those needed some "design." Not every photo of a director in a coat standing before a monitor was worth looking at. What mattered most was content—something worth spreading.
By the time this shot was finished, the workday had ended. Yet after removing their makeup and changing into casual clothes, Charlize Theron and Daisy Ridley didn't leave the studio. Instead, they returned to the set and stood with Duke, letting the temporary still photographer take several photos—publicity-oriented behind-the-scenes shots.
Though both served marketing purposes, behind-the-scenes photos and promotional stills were different. Promotional stills required actors to act, staying in character. Without that, especially in modern films, the stills were indistinguishable from any ordinary publicity photos of the actor. If a photo was taken on set but the actor wasn't in character, it counted only as a work photo—because stills are meant to be "faithful reflections and records of the movie."
Furthermore, the production team's purpose was to promote the film, not the actors.
When the day's work finally ended and Duke was tidying up his workstation, Charlize Theron walked over.
"Got a moment?" she asked, standing across from him, a charming smile softening her coldly beautiful face. "Want to have dinner together?"
"Sorry…" Duke shook his head lightly, glancing toward the studio entrance. Scarlett Johansson had just walked in. "I promised Scar I'd go with her tonight to inspect the cinema she invested in."
As if she had eyes in the back of her head, Charlize turned around. She caught sight of Scarlett Johansson walking briskly toward them, her bright eyes narrowing into two fine lines. Charlize let out a faint sigh.
With age, Charlize Theron had come to realize just how wrong her past choices had been—but by now, there was no chance to correct them.
She knew very well that once some things are missed, they're gone forever.
Charlize Theron didn't want to see Scarlett Johansson. Before the latter reached them, she said to Duke, "Let's meet another time."
Duke said nothing, only nodded slightly. His gaze followed Charlize as she left. She brushed past Scarlett Johansson—neither greeted the other, acting as if they were total strangers.
Pretending not to notice Charlize, Scarlett walked up to Duke, didn't mention her, and naturally took his arm as they headed out of the studio together.
"This is our first large-scale chain cinema opening in Los Angeles."
Walking down the narrow road inside the Warner Bros. lot, Scarlett looked elated. "Our investment is finally starting to pay off."
"My dear," Duke corrected, "it's your investment."
According to U.S. regulations, people in Duke's position were prohibited from engaging in the theater business.
Scarlett knew this, so she changed the subject. "Did you hear? The North American Theater Alliance is planning another round of popcorn price hikes."
Nowadays, popcorn had practically become the symbol of both movies and theaters. As the king of all theater snacks, its profit margins were far beyond what outsiders could imagine. One could even say that popcorn had singlehandedly saved the movie theater industry.
At present, theaters generally sold two kinds of popcorn. One was the "butterfly" type, with multiple irregular "wings" on its surface—crispier and more common in cinemas. The other was the "mushroom" type, round or oval, with a softer, fluffier texture, and less frequently seen.
Since the invention of the first popcorn machine in 1885, popcorn's portability made it the snack of choice for people attending outdoor events or circuses. Its convenience also came from the fact that it could be mass-produced without a kitchen—something that potato chips, another common snack, couldn't match. Thus, chips gradually lost ground in the competition.
However, there was one type of entertainment venue where popcorn was completely absent—movie theaters.
At that time, cinemas were considered very high-class and formal. Snacks like popcorn had no place in the refined eyes of early moviegoers, and theater owners didn't want the mess or strong aroma of popcorn sullying their pristine auditoriums. Moreover, since films were silent back then, the crunching sound of popcorn would seriously disrupt the viewing experience.
But technology and economics changed everything.
The most important cinematic innovation was the introduction of synchronized sound.
After 1927, audiences could finally hear characters speak on screen rather than reading subtitles. This opened the movie market to a whole new audience—many of whom were poor, illiterate, or children.
These audiences weren't attracted by the luxurious design of theaters. To them, getting the carpets dirty because of some fun little snacks didn't seem like such a big deal. Meanwhile, since cinema had entered the sound era, the noise made by eating popcorn was no longer such an issue.
Soon after, the United States was hit by the Great Depression. Many theaters fell into decline, and even those that barely managed to survive didn't have much hope. Everyone involved in the film industry suffered—except for those street vendors who had discovered that popcorn was a butter-coated gold mine.
Popcorn became the cheapest luxury of that era, as well as the first snack people would secretly sneak under their coats into movie theaters. In those dark days, people could make a living—or even become rich—by selling popcorn on the streets.
A theater chain on the East Coast tried an experiment: they began selling popcorn in their smaller cinemas, while their five upscale theaters continued to prohibit snacks entirely to maintain a clean environment.
The result was that the theaters selling popcorn made impressive profits, while the five high-end ones continued to suffer heavy losses.
Eventually, the chain's managers realized that popcorn was the key to cinema profitability. Popcorn had literally saved the movie business. One entrepreneur during the Great Depression even offered this advice: "Find a good place to sell popcorn—and then build a movie theater next to it."
Nowadays, it can be said that we live in an era where there's no movie without popcorn.
Decades later, for many people, a movie experience without popcorn feels incomplete. And for theaters, popcorn holds the same vital importance it always has.
Movie fans often complain that concession prices are too high, yet they tend to overlook the cost and pricing of popcorn. Most theaters have a gross profit margin of over eighty-five percent on concessions, with yearly profits from concessions making up around fifty percent of a theater's total profit—far exceeding earnings from ticket sales.
Since film producers and distributors invest enormous sums in movie production and release, they are justified in taking a large share of the box office revenue. However, theaters themselves face massive expenses—high rent, large-scale air conditioning costs, constant upgrades to surround sound systems, seats, and digital 3D equipment—each one a substantial financial burden.
To survive, theaters could raise ticket prices, but that would drive audiences away. Therefore, concessions have become the only reliable source of income. Although concession sales account for only twenty percent of total theater revenue, they contribute about fifty percent of its profits.
Additionally, theaters always bundle concessions. Popcorn has one special characteristic—it makes people thirsty. So, once someone buys the "standard movie combo" of popcorn, they'll almost always buy a drink as well.
Generally speaking, audiences don't decide between "buying nothing" or "buying just a little snack." Their mindset is: either buy no snacks at all—or buy a lot.
Thus, concession customers fall into two categories: those willing to splurge, and those extremely sensitive to price.
When a theater sets concession prices at a level that nearly all of the "big spenders" can accept, lowering prices further won't attract more buyers. For price-sensitive customers, concessions would only be worth buying if they were cheaper than supermarket prices—which clearly isn't a profitable strategy for theaters.
Therefore, theaters need only price according to what the big spenders are willing to pay.
This is the main reason the North American Theater Alliance dares to propose collective concession price hikes.
Anyone investing in the cinema industry must never ignore the importance of concessions.
It is precisely because of their high profit margins that theaters can afford to keep ticket prices lower. Through concession and service profits, theaters achieve price differentiation and attract more audiences.
In short, it's this simple combination of air and starch that keeps the entire cinema industry running. Without popcorn, there might not even be movie theaters—or at least, not the kind we know today.
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