The web-slinger was seen desperately counting pennies at the Saturday morning box office in what insiders are calling the most embarrassing financial faux pas of the season.
In a devastating social faux pas, Spider-Man has been caught bringing in a paltry $65 million for his third weekend at the box office. Insiders are reeling from the embarrassment as rival films effortlessly sail past the half-billion mark without breaking a sweat. Damage control teams are working frantically to spin the numbers into something presentable for the Hollywood elite.
Darlings, gather round and clutch your pearls because the scandal coming out of the weekend numbers is enough to make a studio executive faint right into their iced matcha latte. In an absolutely devastating turn of events that has everyone from Hollywood Boulevard to the deepest, darkest VIP sections of Soho House whispering behind their perfectly manicured hands, Spider-Man has been caught—literally caught out in the open, in broad daylight—scrounging up a pitiful, tragic, entirely humiliating $65 million for his third weekend.
I mean, the sheer audacity to step into 4,539 theaters wearing that box office gross is just staggering, and honestly, we expected better from a Marvel darling who usually knows how to dress his opening weekends in at least nine figures before breakfast. According to the absolute savagery of the tracking reports, the so-called Brand New Day banked a mere $19 million on Friday, which is practically the cinematic equivalent of being photographed buying generic toilet paper in sweatpants that say 'Juicy' on the back.
Let us really break down the fashion of these numbers, because if you are going to step out on a Saturday morning in front of the entire international press corps, you do not do it wearing a fifty-five percent drop from last week! A fifty-five percent drop is the financial equivalent of visible panty lines on the red carpet at Cannes, it is simply not done by anyone who respects themselves or their handlers. We are hearing whispers from the most exclusive corner booths at Craig's that certain executives are threatening to revoke his A-list parking pass entirely. You simply cannot maintain a mystique when everyone knows exactly how fast your domestic box office is depreciating in real time!
Damage Control at Marvel
Of course, the PR machines are working overtime, spinning this absolute tragedy as a "success" and desperately trying to flaunt a running cume of $780.8 million, as if anyone who is anyone hasn't already crossed a billion before they've even finished their first round of press junket Botox! Director Destin Daniel Cretton was reportedly seen rushing to his car, hiding his face behind a rolled-up trade magazine, deeply mortified that his hero was seen making such a pedestrian sum on a perfectly good Saturday.
"It was just a casual weekend, he wasn't even trying to break records, he just threw on some spandex and ran down to the multiplex for a quick coffee," screamed a frantic publicist while throwing a velvet rope over a pile of cash.
A source close to the situation, who wished to remain unnamed, confirms everything and nothing. They did, however, heavily imply that the real drama is happening across the street, where The Odyssey is sailing past the half-billion mark looking absolutely flawless, effortlessly chic, and completely unbothered by the peasant change being counted in the Marvel camp. Industry watchers are simply aghast at the contrast, with one insider noting that The Odyssey didn't even have to use CGI to make its gross look that good.
The Sheer Nerve of Empty Seats
And let us talk about the absolute sheer nerve of booking 4,539 theaters only to fill them with a paltry $19 million on a Friday, which, if you do the math—and you know I only do math when it involves dividing assets in a high-profile divorce—means there were actual empty seats! Empty seats, darlings! In this economy! It is the kind of social embarrassment that sticks to a franchise for a lifetime, like wearing last season's Prada to the Met Gala or being photographed flying commercial.
One has to wonder how a hero recovers from being seen with only $65 million to his name in week three, an amount so small you can barely buy a minor island or fund a private vanity space program with it. Will they have to start a GoFundMe? Will other Hollywood elites have to step in and donate their spare change so the studio can afford to keep the lights on at the daily catered sushi buffets? Only time will tell, my loves, but for now, if you see a superhero holding a cardboard sign asking for another twenty million, just look away—it’s the polite thing to do.
