Established in the 1970s, Miramax Films Company has been a shining star in the field of independent film production. However, in 1993, it was acquired by Disney and became known for distributing films with artistic merit or niche appeal, until recently starting to shift towards more mainstream movies. In 2005, the Weinstein brothers left Miramax to start their own company, The Weinstein Company.
The intricacies and internal strife of these transitions were many, but Bruce could hardly grasp them all at once. He knew only that the current president, Antonio E Smith, was transferred from Disney, and the one invited to the party today was Vice President Richard White.
Bruce hadn't been overly concerned about these details, considering the gathering a casual meeting where specific matters would be naturally discussed later. However, the conversation took an unexpected turn shortly after it began.
"Mr. Lee, thank you very much for the invitation," Richard White, a slightly balding middle-aged man in a sharply tailored suit, greeted Bruce with enthusiasm.
"Don't mention it. I hope you have a good time today, Mr. White. I believe this is a good start to our collaboration," Bruce replied with a welcoming gesture, inviting the Miramax team to sit in the living room.
"By 'collaboration,' do you mean interfering in casting decisions for our films at will?" A grating voice suddenly chimed in. It belonged to a gaunt young man with reasonably good looks but puffy eyes and a dull gaze that broadcast his unchecked nightlife.
The open living room, crowded as part of the party's main space and buzzing with industry folks, suddenly turned its attention to the unwelcome interruption. Bruce had just greeted a few familiar faces when the young man's explosive comment sent a ripple of murmurs through the crowd.
Bruce's first reaction wasn't to look at the young man but to glance at Richard White with surprise. The vice president's face registered a shock similar to Bruce's, if not more, suggesting genuine surprise rather than feigned ignorance. What was going on?
In such a setting, the atmosphere was meant to be cordial, focused on networking rather than delving into specifics. Why would this young man suddenly create a scene? Did Richard White not know this would happen?
"Watch your tone! What nonsense are you spouting, Philip Walters? Are you drunk?" Richard White's anger and dissatisfaction were palpable as he rebuked the young man.
Though he had hinted that investors might influence decisions within reasonable bounds, airing such grievances in public, especially in a casual setting like this, was akin to making scandalous revelations. Did this guy not realize he was giving ammunition to their critics? It had to be intentional!
"I'm not speaking nonsense, Mr. White, and you know it. I believe such practices are inappropriate. Otherwise, any nouveau riche might think they can swing their money around and trample all over Miramax's integrity," Philip Walters continued defiantly, visibly pleased with the attention his outburst attracted.
His intention was clear: to expose this issue in a crowded setting, though it might seem rash. But clearly, the most embarrassed would be Richard White, the orchestrator of the deal.
His uncle would surely praise him, perhaps even reward him. Philip was nearly giddy with delight, restraining his laughter with the last bit of his sense.
"Mr. White! I think you should control your subordinate," Nancy Jacobs, also taken aback by the spectacle, chimed in. She hadn't expected such drama and noted that White's position in Miramax might not be as solid as she thought.
But now wasn't the time to ponder that. Regardless of the reasons, such behavior was detrimental to their image, and she quickly expressed her displeasure, applying pressure in hopes of reigning in the situation.
"I'm very disappointed, Mr. White. I thought this would be a friendly and harmonious meeting, not one disrupted by a jester," Bruce added, indicating that the turmoil within Miramax wasn't a secret and was now spilling over to affect him directly.
Bruce's expression darkened, his disdain palpable and frosty. In fact, Richard White had already introduced this young man as the head of the management department, Philip Walters. Yet, Bruce did not consider him an adversary.
"What?! How dare you speak to me like that, you disgraceful upstart!" Philip Walters grew furious, his anger tinged with embarrassment. He was here to stir trouble, after all, aiming to sabotage any partnership. He didn't mind spouting provocations—flinging words was something he excelled at! He already had excuses lined up to deflect any backlash onto Richard White.
However, Philip's plans were abruptly halted by Bruce's icy stare that sent a chill down his spine.
"When I'm speaking with Mr. White, it would be best for you to stand quietly aside and not interrupt. Furthermore, I really don't appreciate being interrupted," Bruce spoke slowly, his voice resonating with an authoritative and unyielding force, each word striking like a heavy blow to the heart.
He stood up and took two steps forward, leisurely fastening the last button of his suit, looking down at Philip Walters with a chilling gaze.
Philip, somewhat blustering but inwardly panicked, felt Bruce's aura intensify suddenly, his eyes sharp as blades, seemingly ready to lunge at him any moment. Instinctively, he raised his hands defensively in front of his face.
But this act only elicited laughter from the onlookers, as Bruce made no move to advance but instead turned and sat down, making Philip's defensive posture look utterly ridiculous.
"Now, you can leave." Bruce, uninterested in even glancing at Philip again, found the idea of physically dealing with such a pest beneath him; it would only dirty his hands.
Realizing his actions had been embarrassingly futile, Philip quickly tried to recover his dignity with a retort. As he was mentally preparing his comeback, he suddenly felt the back of his suit tighten, and in the next instant, he was lifted off the sofa into the air.
Gasps and exclamations filled the room as Marcus, whose stature resembled a giant bear, appeared behind the sofa. With one hand, he effortlessly hoisted the slender Philip up as if he were merely a small chicken.