Chapter 95: *The Patriot*

Chapter 95: Chapter 95: *The Patriot*

Vera Cecil’s eyes lit up, and she immediately took out her phone to jot it down. "This idea is fantastic! I’ve heard so many classmates complain at parties about how hard it is to find work." She paused.

"In fact, a lot of alumni go freelance after graduation and need a platform to share resources. I’ve had alumni studying photography tell me they can’t find reliable crews to work with."

"Female alumni, especially, need to support each other," Irene Coppola said, her tone growing more serious, expectation in her eyes.

"It isn’t easy for us in this industry. If alumni help each other, we can avoid a lot of detours. Once The Italian Job wraps, we might even partner with the school to hold a sharing session—give the underclassmen some practical experience and give more girls who want to enter this industry the confidence to do it."

Just then, the waiter brought over steaming shrimp dumplings and siu mai. The swirling steam enveloped the two of them.

Vera picked up a shrimp dumpling, her face alight with excitement. "It’s settled! As soon as I get back from Venice, I’ll start preparing. By the way, Director, did you meet any particularly reliable alumni when you were at school?"

Irene took a bite of a shrimp dumpling, her lips curving into an awkward smile. "I was only on campus for a few days total. How would I have had the chance to meet seniors? Wait... I do know one director who’s very friendly, generous, has a lot of resources, and is willing to mentor newcomers. He’s just a bit on the older side."

"What does it matter if he’s older? Who is it?" Vera asked curiously.

"George Lucas," Irene said, stifling a laugh.

Vera’s fork froze in mid-air, clearly caught off guard by the dry humor.

"Hahaha, I’m just teasing you." Irene set down her chopsticks. The smile in her eyes faded, replaced by a burning, intense glow.

"You should know that the box office for Legally Blonde and Mean Girls is just the starting point. My ambition goes far beyond that. The Italian Job is only my second step. In the future, I’ll film more diverse stories—not just action films, but dramas, sci-fi, even TV series and variety shows.

My goal is to build something on the level of 20th Century Fox, Warner Bros., or Universal—maybe even something that surpasses them."

She leaned forward slightly, her tone firm and resonant. "And I can’t carry all of that alone. I need a group of truly like-minded collaborators. Creative screenwriters, cinematographers who understand light and shadow, directors who dare to innovate. Together, we’ll unearth buried talent and cultivate a team that is entirely our own."

A sharp glint flashed in her eyes—resentment toward industry prejudice, and more importantly, certainty about the future.

"When that day comes, we’ll film whatever we want, however we want. We won’t be looked down on because of the ’female director’ label. We won’t have to act according to the whims of those arrogant men. We’ll hold the power of discourse firmly in our own hands."

Vera looked at the impassioned Irene in front of her, and her own blood began to surge with excitement. The light in her boss’s eyes was too dazzling. It wasn’t just personal ambition; it was the determination to blaze a new path for every woman struggling in Hollywood.

She nodded vigorously, admiring her sincerely, and secretly hoped that day would come soon.

On Thursday night, the premiere of The Patriot was held as scheduled on Hollywood Boulevard.

Both sides of the red carpet glittered with stars, and the camera flashes never ceased, like a storm of lightning.

Mel Gibson stood side by side with director Roland Emmerich, wearing an impeccable commercial smile. Though his temper was well known, he had spent decades in Hollywood and had his own way of conducting himself. He was always generous to his friends.

As a result, the "like-minded" friends from the industry who attended that night were endless, and the scene looked exceptionally lively.

"Mel, this is definitely going to be another classic!" An action film producer he had known for years shook his hand firmly. "Let those people who only know how to make teen movies see what a real film is!"

The remark hit exactly the right spot for Mel Gibson. He laughed and hugged the man, and the gloom that had built up from scheduling conflicts and negative press seemed to dissipate.

He needed occasions like this. He needed the flattery and recognition to prove he was still a king of this industry.

However, not all interactions were so pleasant.

When a film critic with close ties to Fox walked by, the man only nodded politely and didn’t stop. That deliberately maintained distance was like a tiny thorn, pricking Mel Gibson’s sensitive nerves.

But he held back, telling himself it was just a minor figure.

The media interview session after the red carpet proved even more subtle.

A reporter threw out a question that seemed routine but hid a sharp edge. "Mr. Gibson, what do you think is the biggest challenge for an epic production like The Patriot in today’s market, which favors fast-paced teen movies?"

Mel Gibson’s face darkened instantly. He replied through gritted teeth, "True art never bows to fast-food culture."

Roland Emmerich, standing beside him, felt his heart tighten and immediately took over, using more tactful language to defuse the awkwardness.

Backstage, Roland couldn’t help but remind him in a low voice, "Mel, control your emotions. Don’t forget that people from AMC and Empire are also watching in the audience."

Mel nodded, feeling aggrieved, and said he would keep himself in check.

Afterward, no one disturbed him during the screening.

When the film finished, Mel felt satisfied hearing the applause fill the theater, as if the frustration he had endured all night had been smoothed over.

Thinking he would see compliments about him in tomorrow’s papers only made his nerves more excited.

The premiere ended in an atmosphere that was enthusiastic on the surface, but with undercurrents flowing beneath.

After Mel left the screening hall, his friends surrounded him to "celebrate" the film’s upcoming box office success. That night, alcohol and praise temporarily numbed him.

Not far away, publicity director Mark Gerard watched all of this with worry.

Mark’s concerns were confirmed in the days that followed.

At first, everyone was still pleased that both the midnight screenings and the opening day box office for The Patriot had exceeded Mean Girls.

But after the opening weekend results came out, the atmosphere inside Columbia Pictures turned subtle.

The Patriot had opened to forty-two million dollars, narrowly losing to Mean Girls’ forty-seven million, and the reviews from various media outlets were mixed.

The result sent Mel Gibson into a rage.

"They quietly added screens for Mean Girls!" Mel slammed the table during the second promotional meeting.

"Our attendance rate was clearly higher. Why did we get fewer added screens than they did?

And didn’t you promise you’d talk to the media? Why are there still so many negative reviews?"