yournovel Chapter 128 The grand event concludes, the main course begins
Chapter 128 The grand event concludes, the main course begins
Chapter 128 The grand event concludes, the main course begins
As the host announced the program, everyone's hearts were in their throats.
Everyone thought Francis Ford Coppola and his "The Godfather" would sweep everything tonight, but while he did manage to win the less prestigious awards, he surprisingly lost to "Cabaret" in one of the most prestigious categories—Best Director.
"My God, those old guys at the Academy are insane!" Fred's voice was filled with disbelief and astonishment. "Coppola actually lost? If he can't even keep Best Director, does that mean 'Cabaret' will take Best Picture?"
That's the highest-grossing and best-received movie of the year!
Sitting on the other side, Ted Ashley twirled the platinum ring on his thumb, his eyes darting around, clearly also unsettled by the unexpected result.
"Calm down, Fred." Qin Han finally broke free from the bloody motel and returned to his usual self: "The best film can only belong to 'The Godfather,' there's no doubt about it."
Ashley turned his head to look at the young Eastern man beside him who always seemed incredibly confident at crucial moments: "Qin, are you that sure? I'm sure many people here are doubting whether 'Cafe' will ever achieve a grand slam."
"Ashley, that's impossible." Qin Han looked at the dazzling stage: "If The Godfather, after breaking box office records and sparking a cultural frenzy across America, can't even win Best Picture, then the Academy's credibility will be completely bankrupt."
""
He turned slightly to face Ashley: "If The Godfather doesn't even win Best Picture, tomorrow's headlines will only say one thing—the Oscar voters' pockets are stuffed with dirty money from the producers of Cabaret."
"Those old men who are extremely protective of their reputations will never allow such a scandal to destroy the authority they have built up over half a century."
Ashley's eyes grew brighter as he carefully considered Qin Han's analysis, then let out a low laugh.
"A brilliant analysis. It seems I don't need to mourn for Coppola in advance."
37
The program on stage continued to unfold amidst the host's witty remarks.
When the presenter tore open the envelope that would determine the night's highest honor, the breath of the more than two thousand Hollywood elites in the audience seemed to freeze at that moment.
"The winner of the 45th Academy Award for Best Picture is—" the guest flipped the card and announced loudly into the microphone, "The Godfather!"
Boom!
Beneath the theater's dome, thunderous applause erupted like a tsunami.
The suspense that had built up from the unexpected upset in the Best Director award was completely ignited at this moment.
The lights shone as if on the area where "The Godfather" was filming, and Francis Ford Coppola stood up surrounded by the main cast and crew.
The slightly overweight Italian director with a thick beard was clearly still upset about losing the Best Director award, and his expression was somewhat unnatural.
Amid thunderous applause, he strode onto the stage, took the heavy little golden statue from the guest, and held it high.
Walking up to the microphone, Coppola looked at the huge crowd below the stage and shrugged helplessly: "Thank God, at least I still have a chance to go up on stage and accept an award."
This joke, clearly self-deprecating, immediately elicited a good-natured laugh from the audience.
The host, who was standing to the side, immediately stepped forward to lighten the mood: "Francis, don't rush to complain. Mr. Marlon Brando is absent from this grand event tonight. When the Best Actor award is presented later, if his name is chosen, you'll definitely have to accept it on his behalf. There's a good chance you'll have to come up again."
Coppola, holding the trophy in one hand, had a subtle expression on his face as he drawled into the microphone, "Who knows?"
As soon as he finished speaking, the theater hall, which had been filled with cheerful laughter, seemed to have been suddenly muted.
Who knows?
These four simple words take on a completely different meaning when spoken by the director of "The Godfather".
Did even Coppola himself think that Marlon Brando still couldn't win Best Actor despite his iconic role as Vito Corleone?
Whispers spread like a tide throughout every corner.
After all, Marlon Brando was a notorious "troublemaker" in Hollywood.
He was eccentric, arrogant, and rude, and often clashed with directors and producers on set, offending countless high-ranking officials.
Many veteran academics who held voting rights had long harbored deep resentment towards this exceptionally talented but unruly troublemaker.
His extremely arrogant refusal to attend the awards ceremony tonight is undoubtedly a blatant disregard for the authority of the Oscars.
All these factors combined have made the upcoming Best Actor award incredibly unpredictable.
Ashley whirled around, his eyes gleaming with excitement: "Qin! That guy from United Artists just bet a hundred dollars!"
He gestured with his chin towards a white-haired, overweight man smoking a cigar to his right. "He thinks Coppola's comment just now implied Brando was out of the game. Your judgments have never been wrong before. Tell me, what do you think?"
Following Ashley's gaze, Qin Han glanced at the Lianmei executive who was smugly boasting to those around him, and a faint smile appeared in his eyes.
"Arrogance can certainly come at a price, but if it's overwhelming talent, Hollywood rules will make way for it."
"Since he's willing to give money, Ted, bet five hundred dollars. Tell him Marlon Brando is still the leading man tonight. No one can take what's rightfully his from the Godfather."
"Great!" Ashley laughed and immediately turned around, patting the United American executive hard on the shoulder.
The two negotiated very quickly, and after a few playful banter, the $500 bet was officially settled under the flashing lights.
After the Best Actress award was presented, all the spotlights and camera lenses were focused on the center of the main stage.
The award presenter was none other than veteran actress Olivia de Havilland. She smiled as she opened the much-anticipated envelope, and when her gaze swept over the name on the card, a hint of unsurprise flashed in her eyes.
"The Best Actor award goes to Marlon Brando! For *The Godfather*!"
"Ha! I knew it!" Ashley waved his fist in his seat without any regard for his image, then turned to the pale-faced executive at United American and made a gesture of taking the money.
The audience burst into warm applause.
Regardless of how much criticism Marlon Brando might have in private, all the judges could only bow their heads in obedient respect for the near-perfect performance of "The Godfather."
As the rousing awards march played, everyone turned their attention to the Godfather crew, waiting for director Coppola to walk down the long red carpet once again.
However, Coppola remained firmly seated in his position, hands crossed on his knees, showing no intention of getting up.
Not only him, but all the other members of the Godfather crew sat quietly, as if everything happening on stage had nothing to do with them.
A soft, tinkling sound of tassels suddenly rang out from the aisle of the venue.
Qin Han smiled slightly: The most exciting scene tonight is about to begin.
Everyone looked in the direction of the sound and saw a young girl walking slowly down the steps covered with a red carpet toward the brightly lit stage.
Her outfit looked so out of place amidst the tuxedos, haute couture gowns, and luxurious jewelry that filled the room.
She wore a traditional Indian long dress made of deerskin, her long black hair was simply tied back with two headbands, and she wore a pair of soft moccasins.
There was no glamorous makeup, no dazzling accessories, only a rustic charm belonging to the wilderness.
The audience, which had been cheering for the Best Actor award just a moment ago, suddenly fell into an eerie silence.
More than two thousand pairs of eyes were fixed on this Native American girl who looked like she had stepped out of the western wilderness in the 19th century.
The host stood in front of the award stage, watching the girl approach, her forehead already covered in fine beads of sweat.
He awkwardly held up the microphone, trying to defuse the unexpected turn of events with his seasoned sense of humor.
"It seems that not only is our Best Actor eccentric, but even the guest we invited to accept the award is very—eccentric."
The girl walked to the center of the stage, and the award presenter stepped forward with a smile and handed her the small golden statuette that was gleaming in the sunlight.
To everyone's surprise, the Native American girl did not reach out to take it, making a very clear gesture of refusal.
Ignoring the growing commotion around her, she took out a folded piece of paper from the pocket of her deerskin dress.
"My name is Sachin Little Feather. Tonight, I stand here representing Mr. Marlon Brando."
"Mr. Brando asked me to tell everyone that he regrets that he cannot accept this extremely generous award. The reason is that the portrayal of Native Americans in today's film industry and television networks is full of distortion, defamation and discrimination."
"Furthermore, at this very moment, in the events unfolding at Wounded Knee, Native Americans are suffering unjust treatment and brutal repression at the hands of the US government!"
Whoosh! The scene erupted into complete chaos!
In the Oscars, a hall of fame that claims to promote pure art, Marlon Brando used the most decisive method to slap Hollywood with the bloody reality of politics!
Half the audience was applauding wildly; it was a show of support from a new generation of filmmakers who sympathize with the disadvantaged and advocate for equality.
Meanwhile, the other half, the old guard and conservative elites who dominate the traditional order of Hollywood, booed deafeningly.
Qin Han sat quietly in his seat, already knowing what was going to happen. He seemed like someone who didn't belong on this stage, quietly observing everything.
These gentlemen and celebrities, who usually hold wine glasses, are now behaving no more noblely than the thugs in Chinatown fighting for territory when faced with a conflict of beliefs and stances.
"Damn bastards! That's a blatant insult to the United States of America!" A powerful roar erupted from the left front of the hall.
Suddenly, a tall, extremely robust old man sprang up from his seat.
That was John Wayne, a veteran Hollywood Western movie star and a recognized spiritual leader of the American conservative movement.
The legendary cowboy, who once drew his gun and killed countless Native American "savages" on screen, now had a flushed face, and spittle kept spitting from his mouth.
"Get her out of there! Drag that rule-breaking Native American woman down here!"
He roared and yelled, accusing the organizing committee of letting this happen, clearly intending to personally drag the Native American girl who was spouting nonsense in front of the microphone off the stage.
Six security guards in black suits rushed out from both sides of the passage and blocked John Wayne's way.
"Get out of here!"
The security guards dared not hurt him, so they could only do their best to hold onto his arms and shoulders tightly, barely managing to drag the enraged John Wayne back to the edge of the corridor.
On stage, Sachin Little Feather watched the chaos erupt below the stage, but he did not back down and insisted on reading out all the protest statements.
After reading it, she didn't look at the little golden statuette that countless people dreamed of again. Amidst the boos and applause of the audience, she walked directly off the stage and disappeared behind the curtain.
"My God—this is absolutely the craziest night in Oscar history." Fred wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, his voice still trembling.
Qin Han did not agree. In his eyes, the Japanese right-wingers hiding in the shadows, trying to destroy everything with bombs, and the conservative elites who were booing wildly from the sidelines and trying to maintain their status with violence, were not essentially different in some respects.
After a period of chaos, the sweating host finally brought the proceedings back on track, and the conference continued in an extremely tense atmosphere, quickly awarding the remaining minor prizes.
The lights dimmed again, and a melodious, slightly melancholic tune echoed through the hall.
The entire venue fell silent; this was the final moment of the night.
The curtain in the center of the stage slowly opened.
An elderly man with a full head of white hair and a faltering gait slowly walked into the spotlight with the help of staff.
Gone was the iconic bowler hat, gone was the comical tuft of beard, and gone was the cane he always used for clown acts.
Charlie Chaplin, the comedy master who brought laughter to the world with his silent actions, has finally returned to the Hollywood stage after being forced into exile in Switzerland for twenty years.
He accepted the small golden statuette that represented the Oscar for Lifetime Achievement, and his eyes, which were always full of liveliness and cunning, were now brimming with turbid tears.
brush!
Several veteran Hollywood executives in the front row stood up.
Then came the second row, the third row —
Thunderous applause erupted once again.
This time, the applause was devoid of any confrontational stances; it was simply a pure tribute to a pioneer of a new era in cinema.
Even John Wayne, who had been furious earlier, stood up straight and clapped solemnly.
Just as I remembered, the applause rose in waves, lasting for a full twelve minutes.
These twelve minutes are a tribute to a great genius and a profound confession from Hollywood to that crazy era of witch hunts.
The curtain slowly fell amidst thunderous applause.
The 45th Academy Awards, often described as one of the most dramatic awards ceremonies ever, has finally come to an end.
The theater's side doors were pushed open one by one, and rows of extended luxury cars had been waiting for a long time on the outskirts of the street.
Qin Han and Bruce Lee walked out the door side by side, with Fred and Ashley following closely behind.
"Gentlemen, tonight's frights have been enough." Ashley walked to his car, turned back and waved to the group. "Let's go to Beverly Hills. With champagne and music at the Governor's Dinner, we'll have plenty of time to process what just happened."
Qin Han got into the back seat of the car, and the cars filed out, heading towards Beverly Hills.
The main course is finally about to begin.