Did Laila care about her records? Honestly—who wouldn't? Of course, she did. But she had her principles. Those principles were what kept her moving, pushing herself toward every goal she set. As for the consequences her determination might bring—she didn't give them much thought.
That said, she wasn't pessimistic about Blood Diamond's box office performance. Laila had a knack for promotion. Every time one of her films was released, she always managed to pull off high-impact, low-cost strategies to boost ticket sales.
And this time, the incident in South Africa—her kidnapping during production—had added a dramatic layer of publicity that couldn't be ignored. That kind of buzz meant one thing: people were curious. Curious to know what kind of film was worth Laila risking her life to complete.
And what does curiosity bring? If you asked Laila, she'd smile and say:
Box office. Lots and lots of box office.
By the next day, media outlets had already begun publishing their reviews.
"This is a raw, bleeding film—it tears apart the illusion of truth and exposes the brutal reality beneath."
— New York Post
"Another masterpiece Laila Moran risked her life to create. It deserves a place in the pantheon of unforgettable classics."
— The Entertainment Gazette
The second review came from a Moran-owned media outlet, so of course it sang her praises to the heavens. But other outlets focused more on the film itself—and overall, the reviews were quite strong. Even compared to The Lord of the Rings, the reception wasn't far off.
Among the moviegoers who had already seen the film, most shared similar opinions. Apart from a small group who felt the film was too raw and emotionally distressing, the majority gave it very high scores.
Almost every review used one word again and again:
Real.
Everything about the film felt real—so real that it was bloody and brutal. It laid bare the sins of man and the madness of human nature. Some scenes hit viewers so hard that they recoiled. Especially the parts showing child soldiers—boys no older than ten or eleven, guns in hand, staring indifferently at human life.
These were scenes unimaginable in a peaceful world. It was their realism that etched them into viewers' minds and pierced their souls.
Back at home, Laila, like always, was combing through all the reviews—forums, media sites, fan discussions. She paid close attention to every kind of feedback.
So far, she was quite satisfied. The only thing she wasn't sure about was whether the Oscar judges would recognize the film the same way the audience had.
This had been her most aggressive adaptation yet—even more so than The Lord of the Rings. She had practically rewritten the original version from the ground up, injecting it with her insights and vision, hoping to express exactly what she wanted to say.
Truth be told, she thought she had done a pretty damn good job. She'd felt that way during the test screenings. The only question had been whether the audience would feel the same.
And as it turned out, they did. Wherever you looked, the reviews were overwhelmingly positive. Of the small percentage of negative feedback, most came from the usual haters or those who found the realism too hard to stomach.
But the wider public was focused on something else—the box office. No one doubted Laila's ability to make a good film anymore. Over the past ten years, she had released so many iconic movies that even if she made a film full of dog crap, people would probably still call it "classic dog crap."
So what they cared about was the box office. Deep down, they didn't want to see her streak broken. They wanted her to keep going, to set a record for the ages—one future generation might never surpass.
Laila clearly understood that too. While she had always claimed to be indifferent about records, she didn't mind keeping them going either.
And so, she activated her army of online promoters.
But Laila didn't do things the usual way. She wasn't about to use those tired old lines like "You owe her a movie ticket." That kind of phrasing works once—maybe twice—but use it every time and it turns into white noise. People start tuning it out. No matter how loud the fake buzz gets, it stops having any effect.
Her approach was much simpler: go with the natural flow of the fans' thoughts—just give them a few small nudges, a platform to speak, and a little fuel to ignite their passion.
Whether it was Laila's fans, Leonardo's massive global fanbase, or even just casual movie lovers—these were all powerful forces she could tap into.
"Let's help Laila keep her record alive."
"The legend of Laila's box office streak can't end here. Let's each contribute one ticket!"
"If this record breaks, I'll regret it for sure. No more talk—Laila's films must be supported. Let's help her continue this miracle!"
All Laila had her team do was stoke the enthusiasm—rally the fans and audience to join the battle to defend the box office record.
Did it work?
Absolutely.
The primary reason? Fanbase.
Whether it was Laila or Leonardo, both had enormous followings around the globe. Even if just one out of every ten fans took action, the box office would see a very visible boost.
And if anyone still doubted her popularity, just look at her influence in the East. The power of her name there was no exaggeration.
A lot of people usually avoid heavy films in theaters. But if that film happened to be directed by their idol… if it starred their dream actor… if their idol had risked her life to finish it… and if they had a chance to be part of keeping her once-in-a-century record alive… and if the movie was good…
Well, in that case, even casual viewers and non-fans alike were willing to shell out money to show their support.
And then the opening day numbers dropped—and all the skeptics fell silent.
North American opening day box office: over $8 million.
In the days that followed, box office numbers didn't crash as expected. Some regions even saw a slight increase.
Sure, compared to some of Laila's past films that opened with tens of millions, $8 million didn't look like much. But people were forgetting—what kind of film was this?
It was the kind of movie considered niche by default. The kind of film most people would rather buy on DVD than watch in theaters.