[Chapter 833: Potholes Everywhere]
Hollywood buzzed with excitement those days as it celebrated a century of filmmaking. However, not everything was harmonious. The hefty producer Harvey found himself in hot water, faced with a perplexing group clamoring for the discontinuation of a certain film.
In contrast, William White enjoyed a comfortable life, completely unbothered by such drama. Harvey's film was starting to lose steam at the box office after a brief resurgence. While alternative communities thrived in America, traditionalists still made up the majority, often reluctant to voice their opinions.
According to William White, he might not support the actions of the protestors, but he wouldn't interfere with their choices. "Everyone has the right to choose," he had maintained.
The essence of discourse varied greatly, as the same message could relay drastically different implications to the outside world.
"William, it's quite lively these days. Why can't you just show a little support? Look at me, I've openly declared my backing," Lucas said, grinning and sporting a somewhat unsavory expression. William felt a surge of frustration. He had already given Lucas more grace than he deserved--if it were his own son acting like this, he would have had no qualms about punishing him.
"George, that's just kicking someone when they're down. Those idiots are truly sensitive. They're not aiming to convey that message."
Lucas chuckled heartily. "Besides, regardless of your orientation, coercion doesn't sit right. The scriptwriter aimed to send a strong message to the mob boss, and he succeeded."
"Indeed, it's still a good movie, but it's unfortunate that it crossed paths with Forrest Gump. That just spells disaster for the fat guy," Lucas laughed exuberantly. In fact, the misfortunes of newcomers brought the industry veterans a certain joy. Hollywood operated like a big pot--if one person took a bigger share, others went without.
"Lucas, think this through. This disaster film requires at least a hundred million in investment. Profit isn't guaranteed," William cautioned.
"Come on, don't be like that. The script sparked some ideas. I'll take the lead as producer," Lucas replied confidently.
"Alright, then prepare yourself. I'll need some actual launch footage from the two shuttle missions," William conceded, understanding that he had no valid reason to reject Lucas's involvement. Hollywood worked that way--having connections was crucial.
Given their positions, they couldn't behave the same way as before. Going it alone led to resentment, and strained relationships certainly didn't yield good results. Looking at the Hollywood landscape of that time, it was evident that the industry mingled pleasantly with tech giants. Those holding Apple devices in TV shows or movies usually played the heroes, while Tesla drivers often portrayed the good guys as well.
Sponsorship was only one aspect; more importantly was the unspoken understanding established behind the scenes. Quietly, European or Asian products often ended up heavily criticized.
The box office receipts didn't matter much to William these days. Maintaining good relations within his circle was what truly mattered.
"Harvey, I think it's time you learned a thing or two from William White. This situation can't continue; if they push any further, the Oscars will feel the ripple effect."
"Sure thing, boss. I'll send someone to talk to the paparazzi. A little give-and-take should calm things down."
The head of Warner was also feeling overwhelmed. Though he was satisfied with the performance of his film, the producer's antics had gotten out of hand. Despite his unsavoriness, Harvey knew how to navigate the industry's old guard. In less than a month, his film was announced as a nominee.
As for awards, it was truly a matter of luck. To offend William White for a little golden statue hardly seemed worth the risk.
William White's evolution hadn't gone unnoticed among Hollywood's bigwigs. It appeared that keeping things amicable was preferable to provoking one another.
Harvey's strong personality didn't help matters; his interactions with the press left much to be desired. Did he really believe he could navigate this world without recognizing their tendencies?
If one were in William White's position, it wouldn't matter much anyway. No one dared to cross him, and he wouldn't use the media to undermine others.
Yet, Hollywood was tougher now than ever. Everyone seemed desperate for attention.
An eight-million-dollar budget that produced this level of quality left a lasting impression.
"By the way, Harvey, avoid clashing with those delicate folks; tell them it's to punish the mob boss. For crying out loud, you shouldn't have cast an African American lead," he ordered.
"Uh, boss, the film doesn't have any clear protagonists. Everyone in it is a jerk; I can't exactly shuffle roles around," Harvey stammered.
"Forget it. Just oust the negativity pronto. By the way, have Quentin come by my office."
"Sure thing, boss. I'll head over right now."
That's just how Hollywood operated--every film was expected to include an African American character, though it wasn't a strict rule. Yet, it was wise to comply.
If the portrayal was negative, it needed to be balanced by a noble character. Otherwise, accusations of racism would abound.
Why was it that Asian characters hardly changed? It was either supermarket owners or restaurant workers.
That was a different conversation, but there were plenty of unflattering roles for various backgrounds. The unfortunate reality was that the loudest complaints carried more weight.
If an uproar erupted in Los Angeles, Americans would rethink their policies--tightening immigration regulations or making adjustments to tackle the situation.
If anyone believed the social status of African Americans had significantly improved, they were gravely mistaken. Violence, chaos, poverty, those were their labels. Discrimination hadn't diminished; it had simply become more subtle.
In the world, nowhere was racial discrimination more severe than in America. The Chinese people, despite their casual words, didn't have the same deep-rooted biases. So long as they weren't disturbed in their lives, they were content.
In America, their stance against discrimination had devolved into mere formalities.
One would notice an odd phenomenon among the so-called elite-- their social circles always included a token member from another ethnicity. They fashioned this into a standard; it became a way to showcase their "progressiveness."
Did that mean discrimination had vanished? Not a chance; having a handful of friends didn't change the reality.
Americans traveling to China found it astonishing that people could dine out freely at night on foot.
Goodness, that was practically unimaginable back in America. After dark, it was best to remain indoors. As for what they saw on television, those stories were entirely fictional.
Compared to this, life in Australia was easier, perhaps because of the space and population density. Coming across someone was still a delight, not like the gun-fueled chaos of America.
Americans were interesting, permitting gun ownership freely, with Afghanistan being the only other nation that mirrored this. Logically, one would think they should communicate, if not buddy up, at least they shouldn't be at each other's throats.
"Lisa, have the legal department draft a set of guidelines. Emphasize that issues concerning religion, race, gender, and sexual orientation must all be avoided."
"Understood, boss. Is there anything else to consider?"
"Through the White Foundation, donate five hundred thousand to women's rights groups. Also, fifty thousand each to environmental and animal welfare organizations."
"Got it, boss."
*****
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