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Looper had a terrific box office month when it came out. It had stiff competition against Christopher Nolan's The Dark Knight Rises and The Amazing Spider-Man, but premiered with an impressive $44 million and dropped only 20% in its second week.
A drop of less than 35% signaled phenomenal word-of-mouth, and Looper had dropped only 20%. In its third week, it dropped 31%, and in its fourth week, 33%, meaning its total box office had reached an unbelievable $119.76 million. It beat The Matrix for the highest-grossing opening month for an original R-rated sci-fi film.
Twitter was trending with #StoneisGold, #RyanReigns, and Ryan's favorite, #TheStoneZone:
@phantomthread2: Did Ryan lace everyone with crack to get everyone in the theater? 100 million plus for an original R-rated sci-fi film? What the fuck?
↪ @languagu7: I thought I had dyslexia when I read that. 100 million dollars for his second film? His first lead?
@antman78: I swear Ryan must have been a saint in his last life. Dating Emma Roberts and his second film is probably going to gross more than 300 million worldwide.
A survey was conducted outside the theater, and 45% of participants—80% of them women—said they went to see the film because of Ryan. And all of the attention—Ryan's Twitter had more than 500,000 followers—from his rise in popularity followed him all the way to his apartment in Los Feliz.
Outside, there was a mob, and all he could see were flashes of light.
"Ryan! Right there!"
"Ryan, where's Emma? Do you live together?"
He got inside a sedan, and the driver wasted no time reversing.
"Ryan! What are you going to do for your 21st?"
"Ryan!"
The car soon pulled away, and the driver looked at him through the rearview mirror.
"LAX?"
Ryan nodded.
The airport was even worse. Swarms of people waited to take selfies with him even though he wore a hat and his hair was messy and long.
A college-aged student said, "I love you and Emma!"
Ryan nodded and headed toward his gate. His palms were sweaty, and his heart was pounding against his chest. He looked down to avoid people's stares and kept checking the time on his phone.
The house must have been at least a hundred years old. When Ryan was growing up, Tessa had told him—while they were waiting in line at Walmart—that one of her ancestors had bought the house after the Civil War with a reward he had received from the governor.
There had been a Springfield Model 1863 rifle above the fireplace, but after Ryan moved in, Tessa quickly put it away in the attic.
Every time he came back, it felt like his first day. Time seemed to slow as he knocked on the door.
"Coming. You forgot your charg—"
Tessa opened the door and stepped back. She opened her arms wide.
"My God, my baby."
"Oh my God. You look like a man."
She looked dazed as she stared straight into his green eyes.
Ryan laughed. "That's what the industry does to you."
They shared a long hug, and all he could hear was the air conditioner.
"You're spending your birthday with your old folks. I have everything ready."
She leaned in to close the door as Ryan stepped inside.
"Wouldn't want it any other way. It gets boring after a while."
She grabbed his luggage.
"No, no. I've got it."
She asked, "You've been playing the drums?"
"Yeah, for a role."
She patted his shoulder. "I'm so proud of you. Rob! Guess who's here!"
"Rob's here?"
Ryan flew upstairs with his drum kit and into the living room, where he saw Rob holding a remote. His belly stuck out beneath a faded Syracuse University T-shirt.
"It's been too long."
They quickly hugged each other, and Ryan could smell the cigar smoke on him.
"Am I talking to my son or Young Joe?"
"Whichever one gets to eat Tessa's dinner first."
Rob held Ryan's shoulder for a while.
"You've been working out? What happened?"
"Drumming. And steroids."
Rob let out a gritty laugh.
Tessa came upstairs, and they both turned toward her. Ryan chuckled.
"Guess who's taller now?"
"You've been taller than Rob for ages now."
"Just wanted to say it again."
Rob said, "With my genes, you would've been five-eight for the rest of your life."
"I wouldn't get any acting roles then."
Tessa chimed in, "Look at Tom Cruise. Still so handsome."
Ryan sat on the sofa and stretched his neck all the way back toward the wooden ceiling. Tessa had renovated the place years ago, replacing the crumbling wall facing the patio with enormous French windows that flooded the room with light.
Ryan raised his hands, and Tessa asked, "When are your friends coming over?"
Rob's New York accent grew sharper. "Are they ready for the Stone special?"
"Nope. They're all soft. They're all actors anyway."
***
The next hour was bliss.
Rob showed off his new grill—a Weber Summit S-670—so polished that Ryan could see his reflection in it. There was a gentle breeze, and the sunlight fell across the freshly mowed lawn, leaving the wooden patio table in the shade. Six chairs with mismatched cushions surrounded it.
"Can't believe your movie is holding on with this packed summer."
Ryan sat down in one of the chairs. "My luck is insane."
"Not all luck." Rob shook his head.
He flipped the meat to the other side and put down the spatula.
"God, when I saw Usain break the Olympic record a couple of days ago—"
Ryan leaned in. "How was that?"
"Well, I didn't know he was that tall. But once he got into his stride, it was something else. It was superhuman. But imagine the work he put in."
Ryan nodded.
After a moment of silence, there was a knock on the door. Ryan got up from the chair and went downstairs.
"Zach! Thanks for coming."
Zach wore chinos and a blue button-down. His hair was short, and he carried a bottle of Barolo in one hand.
"My favorite."
Ryan smiled. "How have you been?"
"Finished Star Trek. The rest of my year is free. I don't know what to do."
"So I can finally see Spock?"
Zach smiled. "How are you and Emma?"
"Um. I'll tell you later. Let me show you around."
Ryan gave him a quick tour of the house while Tessa and Rob got something ready for Zach to eat after the long flight.
When they came back to the living room, Zach said, "What a beautiful home you have, Mr. and Mrs. Stone."
Tessa smiled. "Your family lives in Los Angeles?"
"No. They would hate it." He shook his head. "They live in Pittsburgh."
Rob exhaled. "Oh, a Steelers fan?"
Zach nodded.
Tessa chimed in, "Please, help yourself. Rob's been grilling. There's some sirloin steak too."
They all went out to the patio beneath the spotless blue sky. Tessa served Zach and asked, "So how was Ryan in his first movie?"
"Terrible."
Ryan laughed. "Yep. I just copied my scene partner."
Zach chuckled. "No, he was great. I was surprised they hired someone so green. But, hey, it worked out."
The door chimed again. Andrew and Emma Stone were at the door.
"Finally," Ryan said. "Rob was about to eat your steaks."
Andrew stepped inside carrying a case of beer.
"I was told there would be free food."
Emma held up a bakery box. "And unlike him, I brought something useful."
Andrew leaned over and whispered in Ryan's ear, "Everything all right?"
Ryan nodded and patted Andrew's back.
By the time they came out to the patio, the table was crowded with plates. Rob kept bringing steaks off the grill despite everyone telling him there was already too much food. Tessa opened Zach's Barolo and poured everyone a glass while the sun slowly disappeared behind the trees.
For the next couple of hours, Ryan forgot about Los Angeles.
Nobody asked about box office numbers or interviews. Nobody asked about his romantic life. Rob and Zach argued about the Super Bowl, which Rob's team—the New York Giants—had won after an 88-yard game-winning drive. Emma told Tessa a story that had her laughing so hard she had to put down her wine. Andrew ate two steaks and denied it when Rob accused him of going for a third.
By nine, the mosquitoes had finally driven everyone inside.
Ryan disappeared upstairs and returned holding a plain black DVD case.
Andrew immediately recognized it.
"No."
Ryan smiled.
"No fucking way."
"What?" Tessa asked.
Ryan pulled out the disc. There was no artwork on it, only CALL ME BY YOUR NAME and a series of numbers printed across the bottom. Beneath them, in bold black letters, were the words:
DO NOT SHARE.
"Advance copy."
Andrew stood up. "How the hell did you get that?"
"Luca sent it. Birthday present."
"You watched it?"
"No."
Andrew stared at him. "You waited?"
Ryan shrugged. "Wanted to see it with everyone."
They turned off the lights. Rob lowered the air conditioner, Tessa brought the leftover wine into the living room, and everyone found a place around the television.
Ryan sat beside Andrew.
The movie started.
It was strange seeing Italy again: the villa, the old rusted bicycles, and the endless green fields. It was bizarre to think it had been only two months. It already felt like a lifetime.
Then Elio appeared.
"Oh, Jesus," Ryan whispered.
Andrew laughed. "Look at your hair."
"Fuck off."
When Oliver appeared, Rob pointed at the television.
"That's you?"
Andrew said, "Yeah. I know—I put on about half a stone."
Ryan sensed an opportunity for a joke.
"You're about half my acting talent."
The room went silent as everyone took in the beauty of the 35mm photography.
"My God," Tessa whispered. "That's beautiful."
Nobody talked during the balcony scene. Ryan watched his own hand move toward Oliver's. He remembered the cigarette brushing against his pinky and how nervous he had actually been when they filmed it.
The piano scene came on.
Rob asked, "You're playing that?"
"We didn't have the budget for CGI."
Ryan watched Elio stare at Oliver across the villa and remembered things the camera couldn't possibly have captured: Andrew falling asleep between takes, the bags of San Carlo chips, Luca refusing to say action, and the smell of apricots beneath the trees.
Most importantly, he remembered the camaraderie that had permeated everything off-screen between the entire cast.
By the time Mystery of Love began playing, Ryan felt something tighten inside his chest. He thought back to the argument, how close he had come to relapsing, and the dread that followed him every time someone mentioned her name. The walls he had put up slowly faded as the movie went on.
The final scene ended.
Everyone was silent.
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