After wrapping the scenes Zack Snyder needed, Matthew threw every ounce of energy into promoting national treasure. If you wanted to be a superstar, every film you headlined had to hit—at minimum, the box-office numbers had to dazzle.
For the next week-plus Matthew became a frequent flyer, criss-crossing North America, hitting talk shows, press junkets, and fan events, hawking national treasure for all he was worth.
By now promotion was half the battle; in Matthew's view, even the best brew in Hollywood could go unnoticed if the alley was too dark.
Weak marketing meant weak grosses, and weak grosses strangled a film's downstream revenue.
Thanks to the earlier viral campaign—and a road trio led by Matthew, Dwayne Johnson, and Diane Kruger—especially the buzz cooked up around Matthew and Dwayne, national treasure had movie-goers curious.
Meanwhile, Walt Disney Pictures held one test screening after another, inviting reps from the three major circuits. From the data Matthew saw afterward, the film played well.
Exhibitor reps and test-audience members called it a slick, fun family action-adventure, but the critics who snuck in were unmoved. Rotten Tomatoes opened at a mushy 55 % fresh, with an anemic average of 5.5.
This wasn't summer; awards season was looming, and in the calendar's seesaw, critics carried far more weight now than in May.
"The whole movie feels flabby; the action beats for Matthew Horner and Dwayne Johnson are pointless padding, and the plot is riddled with holes."
"A middling popcorn flick—laughably implausible."
"Ten minutes in, you can map the rest; worse, Horner and Johnson flex their biceps so hard they forget their characters have brains."
The early trade buzz was sour, yet Hollywood still pegged national treasure for a $200 million North American haul.
On paper the film was dead on arrival, yet advance sales were brisk.
Two days before premiere, pre-sales for the opening weekend had topped five million.
BoxOfficeMojo and CinemaScore both posted forecasts—eerily identical—projecting a north-of-$40 million first weekend.
Mojo's logic: first, the Jerry Bruckheimer brand; second, Disney's muscular campaign; third, the pull of its leading man.
In their exit-poll sampling, more than half the advance buyers had come because Matthew Horner's name was on the poster.
The weekend before Thanksgiving, national treasure premiered in grand style at Hollywood's El Capitan Theatre.
Matthew, Dwayne Johnson, and Diane Kruger walked the carpet, with Disney rolling out a slate of heavy-hitters as guests.
Matthew also flew in a few friends: Johnny Depp and Keanu Reeves hit the crimson strip in front of the El Capitan.
He'd told his circle weeks earlier: if schedules allowed, come walk the carpet—especially James McAvoy and Michael Fassbender, who badly needed the visibility.
Both were tied up: McAvoy was shooting The Chronicles of Narnia on location in New Zealand; Fassbender was deep in another shoot and couldn't break free.
He'd extended the invite to Charlize Theron as well, but she was still globetrotting with South Africa's World Cup bid team and wouldn't be back in L.A. for weeks.
Of course, Matthew hadn't forgotten Lily Collins; he had Angel Agency courier two premiere tickets to her.
"Bad reviews?"
On the press line Matthew grinned at the question. "I'm not worried—audiences at every test screening loved it."
He left the critics unmentioned—no sense poking that hornet's nest—and added, "The three major circuits' booking execs raved after their screenings. We started with under 3,200 locations; after those previews the alliance bumped us past 3,500. That says it all."
With that, he turned and strode into the El Capitan.
Admittedly, the lukewarm critical reception for 'national treasure' could affect its legs later on, but it won't dent the opening weekend much.
Judging from presales and every scrap of early feedback, that opening weekend won't drop below 40 million dollars.
With a stated production cost of 100 million, the film should sail past 150 million domestic unless it completely collapses.
Add in the foreign take and the picture is a clear box-office win, another hefty chip on his stack as he muscles into the A-list.
Matthew is convinced the final numbers will top even his own estimates.
The film was financed and released by Walt Disney Pictures, and that matters: it locks in the real audience. Disney titles play to every age; teens turn out, but plenty of adults buy tickets too.
Thanksgiving is still ahead, the perfect slot for a movie the whole clan can sit through.
Strip away the marketing hooks and 'national treasure' is nakedly aimed at teenagers, so critics have no patience for it.
Teen test-screeners, on the other hand, ate it up.
After the 'king arthur' debacle, Jerry Bruckheimer still reads the marketplace like a tuning fork.
Because it's four-quadrant, the film's moral compass is so straight it could double as a Hollywood primer.
After the photo call, Matthew did a quick press line, ducked into the auditorium, swapped a few words with Dwayne Johnson, and the lights went down.
From frame one, 'national treasure' broadcasts its unimpeachable values.
It opens on a boy who, like every kid, is wired for wonder and hooked on adventure.
The tale passed down from his great-great-great-grandfather steers Ben Gates for life: find that treasure, whatever it takes.
But the film is crystal-clear on what to do with the loot, channeling its hero: I'm not after wealth—just proof the legend is real.
Opposite him stands Ian, the cautionary mirror: chasing riches, breaking every rule, finally cuffed by the law.
Code-breaking and treasure-hunting drive the plot, braided through with the alpha-dog face-offs between Matthew and Dwayne Johnson.
From the Arctic punch-up to the Declaration heist, the two trade brain-teasers and beat-downs; critics carp the riddles are Swiss cheese, yet the crowd stays glued.
The package delivers a handsome lead, a slab of muscle, a beauty, plus Templar gold and the Declaration—blended well enough for a family romp.
Better still, it ticks every box of Hollywood's proven adventure map and lines up perfectly with North American tastes.
Cue the blueprint: hero nabs a childhood clue, launches the quest, the decorative heroine tags along; first leg's a breeze, then the villain swipes the prize and the hero hits bottom.
Our guy rebounds, beats the crook to the prize, and—crucially—never pockets it; the loot goes back to the earth or to the nation.
His self-denial costs him money, wins him the girl; credits roll on another map, bait for the sequel.
Hollywood's treasure formula is bullet-proof; color-by-numbers scores, rebels flop.
Even Matthew, an actor not a bean-counter, knows innovation is box-office poison right now.
Studios green-light photocopies of last year's hit.
'national treasure' is Exhibit A, and that built-in safety net keeps the risk low.
Safe sells tickets to every demographic; family films live or die on fun.
Watching the final cut, Matthew noticed most of his and Dwayne's harder hits were trimmed—especially the brutal stuff—so their showdown barely grazes PG.
The upside: the picture sails into theaters with a PG rating.