The box office numbers are in, and they are ugly.
A movie that was supposed to launch a franchise, sell a mountain of merch, and dominate every group chat for the next six weeks instead limped into theaters and quietly died.
By Sunday, the studio was already in damage-control mode, and the internet was doing what the internet does best: roasting it into oblivion.
Critics were split, but audiences who actually showed up mostly liked it.
It was that almost nobody showed up at all.
A reported production budget north of $200 million, plus a marketing spend that could fund a small city, met a domestic opening that wouldn't cover the craft services table.
Insiders are pointing fingers in every direction.
Some blame a release date that put it head-to-head with a family juggernaut that swallowed every available ticket.
Others say the trailer gave away the entire third act, a trend that's now practically a genre of its own.
And a few execs are whispering the quiet part out loud: maybe audiences are just tired of being sold a "cinematic universe" before they've been given a single good movie.
One lead skipped the press tour entirely, reportedly due to a scheduling conflict that nobody in Hollywood believes.
Another gave an interview that fans are now dissecting frame by frame, convinced there's bad blood behind every awkward pause.
Neither star has posted about the film since opening weekend, which is the modern equivalent of deleting your ex's number.
Within hours of the weak opening, social media was flooded with the same take: "I'll just wait for it on streaming." That sentence is now the studio executive's nightmare.
Why pay $60 for a babysitter and two tubs of popcorn when the movie will be on your couch in six weeks?
The theatrical window keeps shrinking, and with it, the urgency that used to drive opening weekends.
Three big-budget swings have now missed in the last four months, each one a slightly different flavor of the same disaster.
Studios keep betting on nostalgia, IP, and spectacle, and audiences keep shrugging.
Meanwhile, a $12 million horror movie and a surprise indie romance are quietly out-earning half these blockbusters on a fraction of the budget.
Fans are already picking sides online, which is honestly the most entertaining part.
Team "the marketing was a disaster" is fighting Team "the movie was always going to flop" in every comment section, and both camps have receipts.
The studio, for its part, insists it still believes in the franchise and hints that a sequel is "in development." Translation: they're waiting to see if international audiences bail them out.
What's clear is that the old playbook is cracking.
You can't just slap a familiar logo on a poster, drop a cryptic teaser, and expect a billion dollars anymore.
Audiences have gotten pickier, cheaper, and a lot more willing to wait.
The movies that win now are the ones that feel like events, not obligations.
Our take: this flop is a gift to moviegoers, even if it stings for the people who wrote the checks.
Every time a bloated, over-marketed tentpole eats it at the box office, studios get a little more desperate to actually make something good.
Give us the weird, original, mid-budget movie instead.
Final Thoughts
That's the one we'll actually leave the house for.