Chapter 341: PR Choices

Chapter 341: Chapter 341: PR Choices

When Robert Smith walked out of the screening room for Lost in Translation, the setting sun had already dyed the Venice sky a deep purple.

The delicate, almost silent emotional flow in the film just now had indeed moved him, but it also further confirmed Irene’s reason for refusing to come to Venice—the artistic atmosphere here was indeed somewhat unconventional.

Afterward, he proceeded to the other exhibition halls as planned, targeting the hot projects mentioned by the organizing committee, The Return and The Kite.

The Return was the work of a Russian director. Its cinematic language was extremely poetic, telling the story of a father and his two sons on a journey through the wilderness to find their father. The visuals were as beautiful as oil paintings, but there was almost no dialogue throughout, and the plot was so obscure that the audience members in attendance kept checking their watches.

The Kite, on the other hand, focused on the survival plight of Middle Eastern refugees. The topic was heavy, and the shaky camera work made people feel dizzy. Robert forced himself to finish watching it, only to feel a tightness in his chest.

As he walked out of the exhibition hall, he saw that the other audience members also had solemn expressions on their faces.

The tone of the Venice Film Festival had always been this way. Compared to Cannes’ balance between commerce and art, and Berlin’s focus on political issues, this place was more like a director’s "personal art experimental ground." Aesthetic value and the spirit of exploration were elevated to the extreme, while completely ignoring general audience acceptance.

In his view, while these films might garner high praise from critics, they would find it hard to make waves in the North American market. After all, no distributor was willing to pour money into promoting and releasing an "unintelligible" film.

By contrast, the delicate emotions of Lost in Translation and the family warmth of Little Miss Sunshine were already the films in this festival that best aligned with mainstream aesthetics.

But even so, he had just received word from internal channels that the jury of the Main Competition unit was more inclined to award the Golden Lion to obscure films with "breakthrough artistic expression." A light comedy like Little Miss Sunshine was destined to miss out on the Main Competition awards.

"We can’t come all this way for nothing," Robert thought, rubbing his temples, already formulating a plan in his mind.

Although the Orizzonti Section didn’t carry as much weight as the Main Competition, it was still an officially recognized category. As long as they could win one of the awards, it could serve as a promotional highlight back in North America, attracting more art-house theaters to schedule screenings.

In any case, most American audiences didn’t know the inner workings of European film festivals. As long as they won an award, it was good, regardless of what award it was.

He immediately contacted his accompanying PR team: "Focus our PR efforts on the Orizzonti Section. We can try for the San Marco Award for Best Picture or the Special Orizzonti Prize. Work within our budget and try our best to secure one award."

Coincidentally, when he ran into Sophia Coppola again at the film festival’s cocktail party, he found that she was also calculating her options for the awards.

Beside Sophia, Julie Costello-Walzer, dressed in a sharp black suit, was talking in low tones with her PR team. Seeing Robert, she smiled, raised her glass in greeting, and walked over of her own accord. "Robert, it seems we’re thinking along the same lines."

"Julie, long time no see," Robert responded with a smile. "With the Main Competition out of reach, is the Orizzonti Section our only choice?"

"Exactly." Julie shrugged helplessly. "Venice isn’t home turf for Americans. European directors make up the majority of the jury, and the Golden Lion and Best Director Awards in the Main Competition have long been reserved by those ’artistic avant-gardes.’ We can only settle for the next best thing and target the five awards in the Orizzonti Section."

She paused and listed them one by one. "The San Marco Award for Best Picture carries the most weight, but the competition is also the fiercest. The Special Director’s Award can highlight Sophia’s personal style. The Best Actor and Actress Awards can boost the actors’ commercial value. And the Special Orizzonti Prize focuses more on the film’s buzz."

Robert nodded in deep agreement. "Little Miss Sunshine is also gunning for the Orizzonti Section, but our goal is the Special Orizzonti Prize. We’re focusing on the differentiated label of ’family warmth,’ which doesn’t conflict with Lost in Translation."

Just then, Sophia walked over, holding a glass of champagne, with a faint look of contemplation on her face. "Actually, I’m not that obsessed with awards. I just feel it’s enough if the movie can be seen by more people."

"That may be true, but awards are the best stepping stone," Julie added with a smile. "Back in North America, with a Venice award to our name, we can secure more screenings and attract more art-house film audiences. Now it’s just a matter of seeing which award offers the best value. The San Marco Award has the highest prestige, but it’s also the hardest to lobby for. For the Best Actress Award, Scarlett Johansson’s performance in Lost in Translation was indeed brilliant, so she has a good chance. The Special Orizzonti Prize is easier to get, but its influence is limited."

Sophia gently swirled her champagne glass, her gaze landing in the direction of the distant awards podium. "Let me give it some thought." She knew very well that Lost in Translation was her attempt to break away from the Hollywood commercial system. Naturally, she cared whether the emotions conveyed in the film could be felt by the audience, but winning an award would also serve as promotion and encouragement for her.

To put it bluntly, she was also just an ordinary person. Who wouldn’t want their movie to be both critically acclaimed and commercially successful?

She understood Julie’s considerations. Although the Coppola Family held a prominent position in Hollywood, they still needed awards to solidify her reputation as an art-house director. Especially with Irene already becoming a top-tier commercial film director, she needed to prove her worth in her own way.

Looking at Sophia, who was lost in thought, Robert had already made his judgment.

He gave Julie a look, signaling that he wouldn’t interrupt their discussion, and turned to walk toward the other guests. He needed to take this opportunity to get in touch with a few more judges from the Orizzonti Section, giving an extra push to the PR campaign for Little Miss Sunshine.

The lights at the cocktail party were soft, and melodious jazz music drifted through the air. Directors, actors, and producers from various countries mingled. On the surface, they chatted and laughed, but behind the scenes, everyone was maneuvering for the awards.

Holding his glass, Robert watched the scene before him and suddenly found it somewhat amusing. The Venice Film Festival seemed like a temple of art, but in essence, it was still inseparable from the competition for commerce, fame, and fortune.

And their participation made the party appear even more colorful.

The jazz music at the cocktail party was still softly playing, and everyone in the hall was talking eagerly. Robert was no exception. He was currently exchanging pleasantries with a filmmaker from France. This gentleman was quite interested in their film and was one of the few people at the party who expressed approval of it. He even subtly indicated that if they were interested in overseas distribution for Little Miss Sunshine, they could contact him.

Just as Robert finished exchanging contact information with him, he caught sight of his assistant, Maxim, hurrying through the crowd out of the corner of his eye.

Maxim walked up to his side and whispered, "Mr. Robert, there’s a response from the organizing committee. They privately sent Mr. Pierre, who is in charge of public relations, to contact us."

Robert’s heart stirred. He calmly concluded his conversation with the filmmaker and followed Maxim to a corner of the terrace.

"What did they say exactly?" He held his glass, his fingertips lightly tapping against its rim, his gaze falling on the lights of the distant Venice canals.