Made In Hollywood

As Christmas approached, Duke temporarily set aside the issue with Sophie Marceau and gave the crew in preparation a holiday break. He himself flew to New York to spend one of the most important holidays of the year with his mother.

Parties were an indispensable part of life and social interactions in this country. Before Christmas, Duke accompanied his mother to some high-society gatherings in New York. Not to mention his own income from the film industry, his mother's wealth had also been steadily increasing in recent years. Especially after moving her company to New York, her ties with the fashion industry had grown stronger, and she had long crossed the 100 million-dollar mark. Coupled with her close connections to the Jewish community in New York, she had become one of the city's upper echelon.

Attending parties was a social necessity, but on Christmas Eve, just like the past decade or so, it was only Duke and his mother at the dining table at home.

"The commercial you made aired early."

As she cut the roast turkey, Mrs. Leah handed a slice to Duke. After he took it, she added, "I heard from Irene that you offered some promotional suggestions?"

"I just mentioned a few things casually." Duke said while slicing the turkey, "Irene is smart. She's the one who handles the actual execution."

"The commercial has been well-received," Mrs. Leah sat back in her chair, "Last week, Irene met with me. She hinted that the Lauder Group is very interested in signing you for another ad contract."

"I had to turn them down."

Swallowing the turkey, Duke shook his head. "It's awards season now. I need to follow the studio's plan and prepare for my new film. I don't have the time."

Filming a commercial isn't as simple as it seems. While the shoot might only take a few days, the prep work often takes weeks.

In fact, when Duke returned to New York, he spoke with Irene over the phone. The commercial had been moved up this year to coincide with the publicity surrounding Elizabeth Hurley. Hugh Grant was despised by everyone because of his scandal, but Hurley had won considerable praise for graciously forgiving her boyfriend and bravely facing the public. Her story had been a hot topic for some time, and Lauder Group's decision to release the ad during this time was remarkably effective.

Irene had also mentioned over the phone that Elizabeth Hurley wanted to meet him to express her deep gratitude, but Duke had declined. He was not interested in Hurley's special form of thanks.

The reason was simple. Duke wasn't sure whether Hurley had already gotten involved with someone in the White House, and he didn't want to cause any trouble.

He had once read about a rumor involving Bill Clinton and Elizabeth Hurley. He couldn't recall the exact year but remembered some details.

One of Hurley's ex-boyfriends had been invited to the White House because of his work. During a dinner, Hurley's name came up, and Clinton directly asked her ex for her phone number.

It's said that without any hesitation, Clinton called Hurley right in front of her ex-boyfriend and arranged for a plane to pick her up.

At the time, Hurley was in Los Angeles and dating Hugh Grant. Yet just hours later, she arrived at the White House and stayed there for four whole days.

Later, there were rumors that Clinton and Hurley had an affair that lasted more than a year. When Clinton realized he was falling for her, he decided to end things swiftly to avoid getting entangled in a complicated situation.

Clinton's many dalliances were no less numerous than those of any Hollywood director or star. In fact, Duke rather admired one of the quotes attributed to the president by the media: "I don't talk love with women who roll in the mud of fame. If I realize I'm falling for you, I'll break it off."

Dinner proceeded slowly. Duke and his mother ate and chatted. Perhaps it was because she was getting older or because they hadn't seen each other in a while, but Mrs. Leah spoke more than usual and showed a lot of concern for his career and life.

In her eyes, Duke's private life was a mess, but she no longer bothered lecturing him about it. She mainly focused on his work.

"Do you have a shot at Best Director and Best Picture?"

With the Oscars approaching, Mrs. Leah hoped Duke would win a few awards. "How's the preparation going?"

"The specific publicity and PR work is all being handled by the production and distribution companies."

Though Duke had seen some case studies, watching and executing were two very different things. He was a novice when it came to Oscar campaigning and was merely following Warner Bros. and Fox's overall strategy. "There's a chance I could get a nomination for Best Director, but winning is unlikely. Warner and Fox are focusing on Best Picture, and they've done a lot of work this year given the unique circumstances. I think the chances of winning are high."

At this point, if *Saving Private Ryan* didn't win Best Picture, the pressure on the Academy would be tenfold what it was in the past.

"I've read some analyses too," Mrs. Leah said, setting down her knife and fork and sipping her wine. "Mel Gibson seems to be the favorite for Best Director."

"Yes, that's true, Mom."

By this point, most of the Oscar contenders had already been released or previewed. Compared to *Braveheart* and *Saving Private Ryan*, the other directors—whether Ang Lee for *Sense and Sensibility* or Mike Figgis for *Leaving Las Vegas*—were significantly outmatched, and no amount of PR could bridge that gap.

Shrugging, Duke continued, "Even though William Wallace's shout of 'freedom' seemed overly dramatic and made many ordinary viewers cringe, it does appeal to a lot of Academy members. Gibson also has the advantage of being younger. If nothing unexpected happens, there's more than a 70% chance he'll take home the Best Director Oscar."

"So, is there going to be an unexpected twist?" Mrs. Leah, knowing her son's nature and having heard of some of the clashes between him and Gibson, didn't believe Duke would just sit back and let the other man win. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask."

"Not yet, Mom." Duke appeared confident. "I already know what to do."

Back in Los Angeles, Zack Snyder and Sofia Coppola were handling the preparations for *Chicago*, so Duke decided to take a short break and spent more than a week with his mother in New York. He even met with Irene Landy during that time. It wasn't until 1996 dawned that Duke returned to Los Angeles.

For the first half of January, Duke's work involved preparing *Chicago*, drafting a new script, and occasionally attending events to support the studio's efforts. As time went on, the films and individuals likely to receive Oscar nominations became more apparent. Though critics like Roger Ebert had privately lobbied Academy members not to vote for *Saving Private Ryan*, the momentum this year was too strong. Both *Saving Private Ryan* and *Braveheart* were seen as Oscar frontrunners.

Given the societal climate, it was almost impossible for a group of a few hundred voters to buck the trend.

Most critics weren't foolish enough to publicly bash *Saving Private Ryan* as unworthy of awards in their columns. Instead, they targeted Duke personally, trying to prevent him from winning any Best Director award.

In the New York Film Critics Circle, Chicago Film Critics Association, and Los Angeles Film Critics Association awards that had already been announced, Mel Gibson easily beat Duke for Best Director, while *Saving Private Ryan* only managed to win Best Picture.

As the highly anticipated Screen Actors Guild Awards, Directors Guild Awards, and Producers Guild Awards approached—each of them far more significant than any of the critics' prizes—Mel Gibson continued to rack up Best Director honors, while *Saving Private Ryan* triumphed over *Braveheart* in the Best Picture categories.

The situation seemed to be settling into place, and the Golden Globe Awards were just around the corner.

"Are you sure, Sophie?"

In his black Bentley, Duke was on the phone. "I need absolutely reliable information."

"Mel Gibson will be attending the Golden Globes, and if he wins, he'll definitely be at the after-party."

The voice on the other end of the line sounded a bit shaky. "I guarantee it! I saw him yesterday, and he's pushing me to make a move on you before the Oscar nominee luncheon."

"Thanks for the tip."

Duke hung up, started the car, and drove toward the café where he was meeting Tom Cruise.

Half an hour later, he arrived first at a quiet café in Malibu, choosing a booth in the corner. After waiting about ten minutes, Tom Cruise walked in alone. Seeing Duke wave, he came over immediately.

"Tom..." Duke looked at the man who would soon be the lead in his movie. "The opportunity has arrived."

"I've been waiting for this!"

The two had spoken before, and Cruise lightly tapped the table in front of him. "I'm definitely going to pay back the insult Mel Gibson threw my way!"

He didn't like the man sitting across from him, but right now, he liked that wild Australian even less.

"I heard you've accepted the Golden Globe invitation too?"

When Cruise nodded, Duke continued, "Gibson will be at the Golden Globe after-party. Will you be there too?"

Tom Cruise hesitated for a moment, then nodded again. "Of course, I'll be there. I want to see the pathetic look on Gibson's face after he loses at the Golden Globes."

"If all goes as expected, Tom," Duke shook his head, "Mel Gibson is going to win Best Director."

"He's going to take Best Director at the Golden Globes?" Cruise was confused "Then he'll win big in the early rounds. The bastard will get the Best Director statuette."

"Tom, he is our common enemy."

"That's right!"

Everything else was tolerable, but Cruise could not tolerate Nicole Kidman and Mel Gibson staying in the same hotel for a long time. This had long been a thorn in his heart. As a member of Hollywood, he could guess with his toes what this meant.

"So, what are we going to do?" asked Tom Cruise.

"What you have to do is simple."

Duke certainly wasn't stupid enough to drag out all his thoughts, he just whispered a few simple words.

...

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