Chapter 442: Industry Status

Chapter 442: Chapter 442: Industry Status

February 27, 2005, Los Angeles, Hollywood.

In the evening, the Walk of Fame was brilliantly lit and crowded with people, while countless spotlights crisscrossed densely, tearing through the twilight and illuminating the entire street as bright as day.

The 77th Academy Awards grandly opened as scheduled at the Kodak Theatre. As Hollywood’s annual top-tier gala with the highest specifications and most attention, tonight gathered top directors, gold-medal Producers, A-list actors, capital tycoons, and industry judges of the global film and television industry. Fragrant dresses and bustling celebrities gathered, and every inch of air floated with the smell of fame, fortune, resources, connections, and ambition.

At the end of the red carpet, countless media reporters were on strict standby, and the sound of camera shutters rose one after another, endlessly, freezing the highlight moments of every top-tier filmmaker.

Among a crowd of competing and exquisitely carved female stars, the appearance of Irene Coppola still steadily grasped the focus of the audience, carrying her own aura.

She was dressed in a custom-made black Dior haute couture gown. The minimalist and neat tailoring outlined a slender and superior figure, without complex and redundant bead and diamond stacking, and without gorgeous and flamboyant colour embellishments.

The pure matte black tone was high-end and restrained, with clean and neat lines, and the neckline and skirt hem concealed ingenious texture, revealing a natural momentum in the low profile.

Her dark hair was gently swept up, revealing slender and graceful shoulder and neck lines, her make-up was clear and exquisite, and a pair of gorgeous diamond earrings carried an aura that attracted all eyes.

In the fame and fortune rules of Hollywood, female stars squeezed their heads to fight for haute couture endorsements, current-season new arrivals, and out-of-season gowns, just to win a fleeting moment of attention on the red carpet and maintain their own fashion status.

But Irene never needed to fight deliberately, nor did she need to sign any haute couture brand endorsement to elevate her worth.

As a dual identity of top director and gold-medal Producer, she was a creator at the very top of the Hollywood pyramid, and her industry status and right to speak naturally surpassed all traffic-driven female stars.

Whether it was the brand’s current-season new arrivals, scarce out-of-season ready-to-wear, or out-of-print vintage haute couture, as long as she was willing to wear them, all top luxury brands would proactively present the latest and most precious styles with both hands, letting her choose and tailor them, not daring to show the slightest negligence.

The creator’s right to speak and the industry’s top strength foundation have always been a stronger confidence than commercial endorsements.

This was Irene’s fourth time standing on the Oscar red carpet.

From her first appearance at the 73rd Oscar in 2001, when she shocked the audience and won Best Original Script with Mean Girls, to the 75th when she reached the top of Best Picture and Best Adapted Screenplay with Million Dollar Baby, creating a youthful legend, except for a brief absence last year, she had almost never missed this top-tier industry event.

Four appearances on the red carpet in five years had long since stripped her of the greenness and nervousness of first entering the industry, making her thoroughly understand all processes, camera rhythms, interview talking points, and social rules.

She walked calmly across the red carpet, facing the dense lenses and fans’ cheers with a relaxed and generous posture, smiling, pausing moderately to cooperate with the shooting, and mastering just the right amount of exposure.

After briefly stopping in the shooting area and completing the media shooting tasks, she politely moved away and walked quickly towards the official interview area, methodically cooperating with the subsequent process.

The host in charge of the live broadcast interview was a well-known senior Hollywood media person. Facing this youngest dual-award winner in Oscar history, the host had no intention of making things deliberately difficult at all, and only prepared to throw out the questions that received the most attention across the entire network.

"Irene, welcome back to the Oscar scene." The host wore a decent smile with sincere eyes,

"From the 73rd until now, as long as your works have been nominated for an Oscar, you have never returned empty-handed. Mean Girls won Best Original Script, and Million Dollar Baby won Best Picture and Best Adapted Screenplay, creating your own legendary record. This time Brokeback Mountain has strongly entered seven major awards, and you are nominated for Best Adapted Screenplay again. May I ask if you have absolute confidence in tonight’s award results?"

This question itself represented Irene’s industry resume and award confidence.

Looking at Hollywood’s new-generation and even middle-generation filmmakers, no one could replicate her combat record.

In just a few years, her screenwriting skills had long stood at the peak of the industry, blessed by two Oscar script awards, and her strength had long been recognised by all members of the Academy.

Among the several works shortlisted for Best Adapted Screenplay this session, whether in terms of text depth, narrative polishing, humanistic thickness, or adaptation completion, not a single one could rival Brokeback Mountain, and the gap was stark.

In everyone’s eyes, this Best Adapted Screenplay trophy had most likely steadily fallen into Irene Coppola’s pocket with almost no suspense, including Irene herself thought so.

But the Oscar was never just an arena of strength; it was even more an arena of human relationships and word of mouth.

The more certain the winning odds were, the more one had to remain humble and decent. Over-brilliant sharpness and exposed arrogance would only provoke the disgust of judges and circles, resulting in losses outweighing gains.

Facing the camera and national audience, Irene raised a gentle and decent smile at the corner of her lips, speaking in a humble, calm, and watertight tone:

"Every work shortlisted for this Oscar is a masterpiece polished with the painstaking efforts of various teams. Each has its own highlights and temperature, and each deserves to be respected and affirmed.

I can only say that my team and I have tried our best to polish every detail of Brokeback Mountain. As for the final result, I am full of expectations, but dare not be certain. Whether I can win the award again, I am also filled with anxiety, waiting quietly for the fair judgment of all judges."

Hearing this, the host nodded happily, and then smoothly threw out the second question: "Then putting aside Brokeback Mountain that you participated in producing, among all the shortlisted films this session, which one is your personal most appreciated and favourite work?"

This question was extremely easy to step on a landmine; a little carelessness would disguisedly belittle other films and trigger public opinion controversy, but Irene answered without hesitation: "My favourite is The Aviator."

"This film brought me to see the Hollywood The Best Years of Our Lives that I had never personally experienced, the enthusiasm, brilliance, madness, romance, and struggle of that era were all restored with extreme delicacy. Every lens and every narrative are extremely charming, full of retro texture and generational tension that make people indulge, making it a masterpiece of the era in the true sense."

This evaluation was fair, objective, and grand in pattern. It not only praised this session’s biggest opponent, demonstrating her own industry magnanimity, but also won the unanimous recognition of the media and industry insiders present, making it impeccably flawless.

The brief interview came to a successful conclusion. Irene politely said goodbye, turned around, and walked along the crowd toward the inner banquet hall.

After passing through the hustle and bustle of the red carpet and breaking away from the lens focus, the decent smile on her face faded slightly, and she no longer deliberately maintained her public posture.

Just as she was about to step into the doors of the banquet hall in a relatively sparse corridor, a bloated and familiar figure abruptly blocked the front.

Harvey Weinstein.

At this moment, Harvey was at the peak and most glorious period of his life, being a top capital tycoon and Oscar behind-the-scenes manipulator whom no one in Hollywood did not know or fear.

Holding Miramax Films in his hands, he had deeply cultivated the awards season for decades. With venomous vision, ruthless methods, and connections spreading across the entire Academy circle, behind almost every Oscar award-winning list hid his public relations layout and capital manipulation.

Everyone in the industry knew that Harvey held the right to speak for half of the Oscar, and was good at leveraging the award pattern through extreme public relations, capital operation, and connection bundling. Films operated by him never returned empty-handed, with a winning rate close to one hundred percent.

This year’s awards season blockbuster and frontrunner with eleven nominations, The Aviator, was jointly produced by his Miramax Films and Warner Bros., and was also his core project pouring all efforts into chasing the award, aiming to win this session’s heavyweight award.