On March 29, at the Los Angeles Music Center, the 54th Academy Awards ceremony was held, still a star-studded event. Some jerk mingling comfortably among them was naturally as unpleasant as ever.
Alright, there were certainly more people wanting to crawl into this jerk's bed.
And the reason? William White was undoubtedly a big shot, and not the kind you can compare those old guys to. Most importantly, he had an unusually good reputation.
Possibly because things were going well, the two women beside William White certainly stole the show.
Old folks at home watching TV were also speechless.
This is the Oscars, and you're just a cameo, yet every year you manage to steal the spotlight. Just by showing up, you can get famous without winning anything.
Have to say, this guy was really petty. How dare you old fools make me keep running this race?
Hmph, I'm not like DiCaprio. In tomorrow's TV programs, you'll only see scenes with me. Nothing else will exist, all will be voiceovers.
William White had made up his mind. If he left empty-handed again today, he wouldn't let those old folks look good.
While thinking about how to frustrate them, he was speaking with unparalleled modesty, almost belittling his own film.
A bunch of reporters didn't care about the committee, and finally catching hold of him, naturally swarmed in.
This time the reporters were quite crafty; they didn't ask William White directly, knowing he'd likely dodge.
Helping two beautiful women get famous wouldn't be a problem, would it? After a pile of film was wasted, William White leisurely escorted the two beauties inside.
...
"Heh, Lucas, this guy sure is popular."
"Old buddy, want to try it too? How about I arrange a couple of beauties for you?"
"Tsk, even a bunch wouldn't help. Young, rich, and talented, he's launched so many new stars. I can't compete."
"How about this, Steven, let's start a company together."
"Well, let's see. The situation isn't good right now."
"To hell with bad, I really agree with William White's view."
"Oh, what's that?"
"The worse the economic environment, the better the film industry does, but there's a catch; you have to know what the audience wants to see, and serious subjects are a no-go."
"Isn't Evita a serious subject? Seems like it's even a tragedy."
"Heh, haven't you seen? With current tensions between the UK and Argentina, just think about the possibilities for playing with this stage play written by Brits."
"Sigh, when it comes to hype and marketing, he's really unique. Every time it's different, and no one knows how he comes up with it."
"Haha, I'll make a movie and just hand him the distribution rights."
...
The awards ceremony kicked off, with William White composed as ever.
Alright, his hopes were dashed again. Outwardly, he appeared calm, still chatting and laughing with the beauties beside him, not caring about what was happening on stage.
Truth is, he was on the verge of fury. Not only did they snub him of any awards, but they dared to mock him, mistaking his good temper for weakness.
Alright, their mockery failed. William White kept smiling, his smile textbook-perfect and almost instructional.
When the host intentionally prolonged his speech, he merely raised an eyebrow and shrugged, looking as if he'd seen through it all.
After the show, William White confidently took his girls back to the hotel. What happened next was anyone's guess, since he rented out a whole floor.
...
The American public didn't care much, but the British were the first to react with sharp criticisms and conspiracy theories popping up left and right.
The American public wasn't concerned with these; they were more curious about how the two beautiful ladies would comfort him, since, in their view, the film academy was indeed trash. A goofy movie like Johnny English should at least get a couple of consolation prizes.
NBC's program was even funnier. Why didn't they report the acceptance speeches, just air the flattering bits about their boss?
Other than that, there was nothing much. All of William White's media outlets downplayed the Oscars. Forget about the front page, you couldn't find a mention without searching hard.
Jeez, putting it alongside filler ads, could you be any more dismissive?
At this moment, the film academy could only respond awkwardly, for William White didn't say anything bad, he even praised their fairness. But somehow these words sounded so harsh.
Some understood. You made him the perennial runner-up without compensation; of course, he didn't want to be used for your publicity. These were merely warnings.
But not everyone saw it this way.
Honestly, the American Oscars have long been controlled by a group of folks. If your themes don't appease them, you'll be running forever.
This bunch holds grudges. DiCaprio showed a bit of disappointment and didn't attend the awards; they made him run as a nominee for over ten years.
Even with two of your films nominated, they wouldn't give it to you because there are three more to choose from.
William White was fed up. He tolerated running as a nominee, but how dare they make jokes at his expense. Hmph, he's not DiCaprio and won't take it quietly.
Hope they enjoy their time in the sun because it won't last.
...
William White was very busy. This film was a challenge for him. If he didn't capture some historical essence, it wouldn't be enough to avoid embarrassment.
Movies differ from musicals; musicals can't convey somber beauty, but films can.
William White knew there was no great tragic love story here, just a bunch of nonsense about a woman who got lucky.
Tragic love story? Give me a break, those are just British fantasies. In her country, this character was divisive, potentially not even considered a positive figure.
In William White's hands, it needed more drama, more emotion.
What kind of person is William White? He's watched plenty of dramatic plots in modern times. Oh, he'd make them love passionately, until the end of time!
In fact, the original script's author said nothing and just walked out after seeing the adaptation.
Yes, he had no right to critique because the man was still a bestselling author.
*****
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