Chapter Text
Oscar Bait for Tiger Beat, they had called it.
When the initial reports started circulating the internet, a Tuesday morning where neither of them slept in anticipation for the public announcement, it was like watching a flicker erupt into a blazing wildfire.
Their corner of the internet, of course, was thrilled. Despite the fact that they’ve since retreated from YouTube and have steadily repealed their public presence, living a quieter life into their “internet retirement” by the year, people were elated. Congratulations started oozing out left and right from their friends and colleagues from that platform, minutes after they tweeted their announcement themselves:
@AmazingPhil: Hey guys! We have something exciting to finally announce...
They’ve still been fairly active on social media, posting pictures and tweets of sunsets, and food, and Pancake, and of each other. The captions get less ironic, their pictures together more sincere This steady repealment of boundaries and layers, in conjunction with the steady reduction of their content on YouTube, continued until a single instagram post on Phil’s account March of 2021. A pale hand with long fingers stretching out almost past the frame, one of which sporting a thick black ring.
A smiley face emoji for a caption.
A seemingly neverending barrage of exclamations and excitement. No further response from either of them.
When they announce they’re making a movie, a proper artistic journey that thrilled them both, their little corner rejoiced. An article from Variety reporting their film’s development and concept was shared and reposted high and low, bleeding into a major talking point in the film industry. Variety, The Hollywood Reporter, Vanity Fair.
Of course, they anticipated some hesitation and backlash. They expected eyebrows to raise when people hear the news about two former YouTube stars, famous for vlogging in their bedrooms and inadvertently creating one of the most beloved are-they-or-aren’t-they dynamic creating a horror/thriller arthouse film on being a queer young boy. An experimental, metaphysical story about a character trapped by a monster, a representation of his repressed sexuality.
Oscar bait for Tiger Beat.
Film communities and discussion almost unanimously dismissed this project as such; a try-hard, pseudo-intellectual project from teeny-bop personalities who don’t know any better.
Dan liked to joke that drama would follow them wherever they went, past their old careers and continuing for the rest of their lives, but they stuck to their isolationist policy on drama and controversy nevertheless. They keep their presence in the press minimal during pre-production, throwing themselves into work and collaboration as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. They work, and develop, and revise, and shape, for almost a year before the filming began.
It’s been in Phil’s mind for as long as he can remember, and he’s told Dan about it for nearly as long. Phil was in love with the idea of pure horror and psychological thrillers used to represent repressed sexuality. Dan developed the social commentary of it. He worked on the layers of satire and critique on how people respond to ambiguous sexual identities, toxic masculinity, and even hints of British class system failure.
When they pitched this in the first creative meeting with A24, they loved it. Phil’s professionalism and Dan’s passion for this project illuminated in such as way that excited the film producers. Phil and Dan insisted on as much LGBTQ+ people as possible at the creative helm of this project, and much to their delight, the executives pledged to follow.
A year and a half whizzes by of developing the script, casting, pre-production, and a prominent place in media discourse. They reached historic levels of queer casting for a major independent film. It had trouble with its financing, with outcries from traditional lobbyists and conservative media causing investors to pull out. Meanwhile, the scepticism throughout the film world continued, dismissing this project as a self-indulgent and doomed to flop.
It didn’t.
They made it through production. They made it through post-production. Miraculously, finally, exhaustively, they finish their film. Out, their next Great Endeavor, their creative baby, was real and finished.
“I guess this is what it feels like when mothers hold their newborn babies,” Dan whispered, caressing the hefty metal case as if it were a human child. His fingers trace the yellow ridges, the small opening, inside and into the reel, glossy and thick.
Phil smiles and swats Dan’s hand away. “You’re gonna break it. And it’s nowhere near the same. Newborn babies are much easier to make, I reckon.”
Dan threw his head back in laughter. He ran a hand down his face. “I can’t remember the last time we had a night off.”
“What is a night off?” Phil cocked his head. They both laugh.
“So what’s it gonna be, Phil? Expensive skybar, spontaneous trip to Paris to celebrate?”
“Better than all of those combined: twelve-hour sleep before our flight to New York tomorrow afternoon.”
“Ooh, fuck, man, you know how to get me going.”
***
From New York, they go to Toronto, then Telluride. Out makes its way through each festival, garnering praise and early buzz upon each screening. They get more interviews. The Hollywood Reporter hails it as “a knockout.” Slowly and deliberately, initial cynicism dies down, replaced with a bizarre downpour of approval.
With increased coverage of their film, questions turn to prods. The easygoing territory of the filmmaking process and the concept of their project start to roam a foreign but all-too-familiar territory about their lives. About them.
Masters of ambiguity and of dodging uncomfortable questions, they manage to maneuver this with ease. Questions about their own sexualities and on the more private aspects of their partnership are continuously avoided, without hinting any shame of who they both are. They walk a fine line upon each interview, a feat of balance with each day of press.
What does this film mean to you in terms of your guys’ own sexuality and partnership?
The aim is always to ask that question back to the audience. You can say this is a physical representation of us internalizing this and expressing it back, and I think our aim with this one is to keep that conversation going rather than trying to give an answer.
For the sake of contextalizing your work, and looking at the bold statement of this movie, why is it that you’ve chosen to keep your own sexualities private?
It’s a choice I’ve made a long time ago, since I’ve had a relatively public life since I was a teenager. We love conversations about this film and already the response has been so gracious, and that’s really what we’d rather focus on.
Eventually, closer to their wide release late November, they start to get questions about their YouTube careers from the past. Polite questions on how this work differs, to not-so-polite questions jokingly asking about their teenage girl demographic all those years ago, now that they were accepted as “legitimate”.
One interviewer on a late junket, when Dan can feel a migraine forming behind his eyes and the deep shades of purple are growing deeper under Phil’s foundation-laden face, went so far as to show them their past videos on camera. The reporter laughs and smiles at them, presumably expecting them to squirm and groan for the sake of his piece. A default expectation of embarrassment at their past work.
“I remember filming this one.” Phil remarked. It was a way to fill the silence more than anything else, since he didn’t know what they were meant to do after thirty seconds has gone by of Phil is not on fire 10 playing in front of them, with the reporter being the only person who was laughing.
“Well I’d hope so,” Dan quipped. “We spent a good, like, three hours filming the footage.”
The reporter--Ashton, if Phil remembered correctly--finally pauses the video and asked a question. “How does watching your old videos make you feel?”
Like an electric current, Phil immediately felt Dan tense up the slightest amount beside him. He spoke first, mentally pleading with the other to not get defensive. “It’s fun, actually. We may not make videos like that anymore, but we loved it. Just like we love the newest video we made, Out, coming soon to a theatre near you.” He jerks his head towards one of the many cameras pointing at them, and winks. He smiled when Ashton laughed at that, and he wished Dan would take his lead and stray away from this topic.
“Do you feel the same way, Dan?”
“Well,” Dan started, crossing his legs and straightening his posture. Phil braced himself. He kept the easy smile on his face for the reporter’s sake, to cushion damage he can already sense coming. Dan continued after a slight pause, “What you’re implying here, I think, is that we’re probably slightly uncomfortable about our core audience and of our previous work on a different platform. Embarrassed, even. But we’re really, really not. We never have been.”
“I didn’t mean to imply--”
“No, I think you did. And that’s valid, you know? I can understand how our change in demographic can provide a place for us to turn our back against an audience that supported and upheld our work for many years. And I know I speak for Phil when I say we love and...and respect them. Present tense. People have always talked about our audience as if they were in on a secret about teenage girls or whatever, as if they had some sort of right to judge, when they never really have been. We know them the most, as it was first and foremost our community. And we continue to be inspired by them.” He finished with a slight smile.
***
Two days later, that two minute press junket, one among hundreds they’ve done that whole week, went viral.
One month later, after almost three years since initial pitch, it was out to the world. Nearly unanimous waves of praise, along with comfortable box office numbers to boot. Certified fresh, ninety-three percent. The buzziest film of the season. The little movie that could.
***
They found out on a Sunday morning.
It was well past noon. Dan woke up to the feeling of Pancake’s wet nose nuzzling his cheek, impatiently pawing on his chest. His hand instinctively pets her fluffy back, and starts to feel around for turned-off phone. Phil continues to sleep like a corpse beside him.
His chest starts to pound when he sees sixteen missed calls from their producers.
He starts to smack at the Phil-shaped lump of blankets next to him. “Hey. Hey, wake up.”
He decides to open Twitter before calling anyone back, bubbles of anticipation popping up and down his gut. He feels Phil stir beside him, but every shred of his attention is hyperfocused on the flurry of words and pictures and messages all seeming to say one thing:
Academy nominations.
Best Director.
Best Picture.
Dan can feel the beginning stages of hyperventilating joy creeping up his chest, breathless disbelief freezing his insides. He hears Phil’s sharp intake of breath from beside him, after finally opening his eyes and peeking into Dan’s phone.
“Holy fuck, Dan.”
All Dan can do is shake his head.
“Holy fuck.” He repeats, taking the phone away from Dan’s hand, tossing it aside, and bolting upright to bounce on the bed. “Dan, breathe. Wake up. Look at me.” He places two warm hands on his face, looking him in the eye.
A smile slowly starts to form on Dan’s face, until every fold and wrinkle in his skin is making way to the blatant elation forming around his eyes, his now-red cheeks, his gaping mouth. Phil shares that same dumbfounded look of this belief as they relish in this moment, quiet and ecstatic, with Pancake nuzzled by their side.
They were Oscar-nominated filmmakers.