The video of the Joker began to quietly spread across the internet.
Countless viewers asked the same question: Who's playing this Joker?
Many assumed the clip was a behind-the-scenes snippet from The Dark Knight. Yet no one could have guessed that the man behind the chaotic grin was Martin.
The differences were stark. His physique didn't match expectations, and beneath the smeared face paint, there was no trace of Martin's famously handsome features—only a manic, disorienting, unsettling intensity.
It was February.
On the evening of February 28, at 8:00 PM Eastern Time, the 78th Academy Awards unfolded at the Dolby Theatre in Hollywood, Los Angeles, hosted by Jon Stewart.
"And the Oscar for Best Actor goes to…" George Clooney paused dramatically before reading the name on the card. "Martin Meyers!"
The Brokeback Mountain team shot to their feet.
Leonardo clapped Martin hard on the back, his tone half-jealous, half-jubilant. "I knew it! Damn it, I knew it. You lucky bastard—congrats, even though it kills me to say it!"
Martin grinned. "Don't worry, your turn's coming with The Departed."
Leonardo blinked, stunned for a beat—then his eyes lit up.
Across the venue, actors—men and women alike—watched Martin with blazing intensity.
After dominating the awards circuit for the women's categories, Martin had now pulled off a feat in the men's as well. His reputation for Oscar campaigning was ironclad.
He wasn't just the flavor of the month anymore—he was the jackpot, and everyone was scrambling for a bite.
"And this year's Academy Award for Best Director goes to…"
Ang Lee held his breath.
"Crash, Paul Haggis."
Ang's face fell.
Martin offered a quiet apology.
In the original timeline, Ang had taken home the statuette for Best Director. But this time, Martin had gone all in on the campaigns for Best Actor and Best Picture. To ensure their wins, he had diverted key PR resources—leaving fewer behind to push for Ang.
Ang's own network, powerful though it was, wasn't enough to sway the judges alone.
So he missed out—regretfully, inevitably.
"And now, the Oscar for Best Picture…"
"Brokeback Mountain!"
The crew was on their feet again, cheering louder this time.
Martin clapped Ang on the shoulder. "Come with me to accept the award, Ang. This is your honor, too."
Ang, unaware he'd been edged out of a golden statue just moments ago, felt deeply moved. He was grateful—sincerely grateful—and thanked Martin again and again.
That night, Brokeback Mountain became the biggest winner at the Oscars. It claimed five awards: Best Picture, Best Actor, Best Adapted Screenplay, Best Score, and one additional minor award.
There had been a clear distribution of the gold that year—no sweeping winner—but with five trophies, Brokeback Mountain had taken home the largest share.
Post-Oscar
In the weeks that followed, Brokeback Mountain was re-released on a limited scale, bringing in an additional $8 million at the box office. However, those earnings belonged to the theaters—not Meyers Pictures.
Martin's company capitalized instead by pushing VHS and DVD sales, riding the post-Oscar momentum.
March
Happy Death Day hit theaters.
The film, a darker, edgier take on Groundhog Day, combined a gripping time-loop premise with a slick commercial finish.
After filming wrapped, young Scarlett approached Martin, beaming. She'd loved every minute of her performance.
Thanks to the movie's cyclical nature, Scarlett's character got to be completely unhinged—dying and respawning in increasingly absurd ways. The script encouraged it.
"Hey Ruby, are you free tonight? Wanna see a movie?"
"Sure, Taylor. What's out right now?"
"Not sure. We'll pick something when we get there."
"Okay!"
At 9:00 PM, the couple arrived at a theater in Malibu.
Ruby browsed the digital marquee. "Let's see… Chronicles of Narnia—already saw it… Brokeback Mountain—also saw it… The Hills Have Eyes—ugh, gorefest, no thanks… Happy Death Day… Hey, didn't Martin write this one? Taylor, let's see it!"
"Happy Death Day?" Taylor echoed, studying the posters lining the wall.
One poster caught his eye—an eerie mask, a bloody birthday cake, and a tagline scrawled across a dark, foreboding background.
"Horror? You usually hate horror movies."
Ruby shook her head. "It's billed as a suspense thriller, not gore. And it's Martin Meyers. I want to see it."
"Well, if you say so. Happy Death Day it is."
More than half the auditorium was already filled.
Taylor held a giant tub of popcorn as they settled into a corner row.
When you're out with your girlfriend, the movie's secondary anyway.
The lights dimmed.
The familiar, goofy "Kung Fu Panda" animation from Meyers Films played on-screen.
Then, Scarlett Johansson's face appeared.
The camera slowly pulled back, revealing her character sleeping in a dorm room.
Scarlett looked amazing.
Taylor whistled silently to himself.
On-screen, Scarlett's character stirred. Waking up in an unfamiliar room, she exchanged a few awkward lines with a boy named Carter. They'd met at a party the night before. He was drunk. She'd dragged him back to his dorm to sleep it off.
Scarlett checked herself—tank top, shorts—no signs of foul play.
She threw on a T-shirt and stepped out.
On her way out of the building, she passed a hip-hop guy, who lowered his shades to leer at her.
She brushed off a girl collecting climate-change petitions.
She passed a frat house mid-stunt: a red-hatted member collapsed after staying awake for 26 hours.
She ran into Tim, a clingy ex who'd taken her to Subway once and never let go.
She sneered at him. "Who takes a girl on a date to Subway?"
Then, with a glance down: "You're not even as long as their sandwich."
Downstairs, she ignored a cheerful blonde Asian girl who waved at her.
She greeted her roommate—a girl in a yellow spaghetti-strap top—and returned to her dorm.
"Did I do anything insane at the party?" she asked her roommate, Lori.
Lori smirked. "Nothing crazy. Just danced on a table, started a fight, puked pretzels everywhere… Oh, and made out with Nick Sims—right in front of Danielle."
"Shit. I must have been wasted," Scarlett muttered, burying her head in her hands.
The opening sequence had a lively pace, with a pulsing energy that captured campus life in all its chaotic glory. There wasn't much action yet, but it had the audience hooked from the start.