[Chapter 827: The Movie Was Good, But the People Were Not.]
William White certainly had an interest in films. After all, he ran a panel manufacturing plant back in the States.
Thinking about the factory made him a bit irritated. That damn old guy wasn't even ordering panels from him. He thought, "When I finally get my new toy, I'm not selling it to you."
"Hey, you really are something. Instead of watching Forrest Gump, you come to see Pulp Fiction," remarked Nicole, raising an eyebrow.
"Nicole, no matter how good a movie is, you can't watch it forever. Besides, I had my eye on this movie's rights, but a sleazy fat guy snatched them away from me. I just want to see if it flopped. If it's really bad, I'll buy the rights and shoot it again in a few years," he explained.
"Ha ha, you're really petty. Darling, this movie should be pretty good. Since you liked the script, it can't be too bad. By the way, Bruce Willis is starring in it, right? What type of movie is it? Is it one of those tough-guy films?"
Nicole was genuinely curious. White Films typically didn't go for the all-action, hard-hitting kind of films. They preferred those with more style and flair.
"No, actually, the lead was supposed to be John Travolta. Bruce's role is pretty minor. But that's not the point. I like the structure of the film. It's made up of several interwoven stories, and if the transitions aren't jarring, it could be a really solid narrative."
Rather than saying he was there to simply watch a film, it was more accurate to say he came to observe the actors. Bruce Willis' performance would have a say in his next casting choices.
"Nicole, pay close attention to this movie; it could help your acting. You know, actresses who are drop-dead gorgeous often have to work twice as hard."
"Is that supposed to be a compliment?" she asked teasingly.
"Of course! Beautiful actresses face this challenge all the time. Audiences don't really care about your performance; they just want to know what you're wearing."
"Please! What about Uma Thurman?" Nicole shot back playfully, pinching him lightly, causing him to cough awkwardly while retracting his wandering hand.
"She's pretty good, but she doesn't seem like someone who's easy to deal with," he replied.
"Ha ha! I had no idea you had the talent of a fortune teller," she teased.
"Please! What do they know about face reading? The most they can do is draw a card and then ramble on for a while. That's just a gimmick from the Rabbit Country anyway. It has some charm, but they don't share their secrets with me."
"Why not?"
"Discrimination, I guess. Well, it isn't full-blown discrimination; it's just that Westerners don't have much experience with that."
The movie ended, and overall, it was pretty decent, or one could say, nothing really changed.
"So, Nicole, how well do you feel you could perform the dance scene?" he asked.
"I--uh--no, that woman is insane. Besides, I don't use detergent, nor do I smoke," she stammered.
"Ha ha! That's not the point. The point is, it's about being able to act out a life you've never lived. That's tough! Just the action of smoking is hard to mimic if you're not a heavy smoker."
Nicole had to admit she couldn't manage that. If she smoked that much, it would wreck her skin. This guy beside her was especially fond of her flawless complexion. It was definitely not worth it for a film.
"Mr. White! Mr. White! I'm a reporter from the Los Angeles Times; can I have a word?" As soon as William stepped out, he was immediately surrounded by a throng of reporters, and his bodyguards could only keep them at bay to a degree.
"The movie was well done. Quentin is a great director, and the performances were all fantastic. I liked it; it's a good story. Everyone, I really need to take this lady home; it's getting late. Sorry, folks."
A group of reporters internally mocked, "Seriously? Are you trying to clean up damage control here? As if we don't know the deal by now. That woman is stunning, though."
In truth, it was already quite respectful for William to offer any comment at all. He usually wouldn't acknowledge those paparazzi at all.
Glancing at the newspaper in his hand, Harvey, the overweight guy, felt a bit puzzled. From any angle, Pulp Fiction was considered a competitor to White Films.
But why did William say that? Just a single compliment would have been generous enough.
"Quentin, why's that?" he asked.
"Cough cough, Harvey, you're reading too much into things. Besides, what does William White have left to pursue? An Oscar? Don't joke around; he didn't even attend the premiere of Forrest Gump," he replied sharply.
Talented people often struggled to communicate. While it was a blunt statement, it accurately reflected the truth, leaving Harvey irritated.
Indeed, only someone with a high self-opinion would consider themselves a big deal. William didn't care much. As for competition, that didn't exist. Forrest Gump's box office numbers were sky-high, while although his film was good, it was still in a different league.
"By the way, Harvey, have those old-timers signed off yet?"
"Yeah, we secured a budget of a million dollars. Those cheap-skates. The publicity budget for Forrest Gump was five million; I wonder how much they'll spend on PR."
"Harvey, I've heard White Films doesn't tend to put much into PR."
"Nonsense! That was back when they had a rough history with the Academy. Those old-timers got scolded a few times, so now they're well-behaved. But White Films' relationship with the Academy isn't great. Many of those old-timers vote gritting their teeth."
Harvey had made his name through the Oscars. With this film's public relations strategy, it didn't take long for him to decode the preferences of the Academy members.
Unfortunately, those who became gatekeepers of the Academy often lost their way. An ex-con from Queens who suddenly hit it big could easily have their mindset flipped. The ancestral sayings from the old country were right.
It seemed that despite often mingling with the Rabbit Country, Harvey hadn't absorbed much of their culture. Hollywood hadn't really changed its rules over the years.
The notion of "the red couch" might have shifted in a more veiled manner, but it undeniably existed. With so many others untouched, why was he the one targeted?
Simple--he had pushed the envelope. Some things ought to be mutual consent, at the very least.
William sometimes wondered if that overweight guy truly had already lost it. Without some special jolt, it seemed unlikely he'd stay relevant.
Why had he originally vetoed that acquisition? It really had been for his own protection. William was certain that if he had integrated that guy, many women would have been sent his way.
Cough cough, although that might have been okay, if Harvey faced failure, William would certainly be entangled in trouble too.
Being a bit of a player in Hollywood wasn't exactly an issue--everyone was an adult, after all. It wasn't about what happened, but who benefited more.
Harvey had the skills and the instincts. Being someone from Queens, his ability to read people was remarkably strong.
Having someone like that around would indeed be convenient. But if only he were a bit less predictable at times. What if this guy were to get ahead of the game? That'd certainly be a hassle.
"What? Impossible?"
William thought that was absurd. The chaos of Hollywood wasn't just talk. Even if no direct relationships were formed, indirect ones certainly could happen. Hence, it was best to tread carefully; safety was most important.
In the latter half of '94, Hollywood saw a massive film boom. A lot of industry giants seemed less concerned about box office numbers; reviewer and audience satisfaction were given priority like never before.
*****
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