Chapter 118: Privilege

Tom Cruise and his wife took off their sunglasses and set down their bags, settling into the VIP box on the second floor of the theater. Checking the time as midnight approached, they waited for the film that had rejected them to begin.

Compared to Tom Cruise's dark expression, Nicole Kidman looked a bit more composed. Her pale face showed no discernible emotion. She knew perfectly well that jealousy and anger solved nothing. Duke Rosenberg's rise seemed unstoppable; if Independence Day pulled in around $500 million at the global box office, it would instantly cement his status as an A-list Hollywood director.

Although he had rejected her for an audition and they had recently exchanged words, Nicole Kidman had no desire to hold a grudge. Lately, she had even asked her agent to find a way to mend their relationship. Being on good terms with a major director was far more beneficial than a bitter feud.

Unfortunately...

She shifted her pale blue eyes to her husband. He clearly had no intention of smoothing things over with Duke Rosenberg, despite Pat Kingsley's repeated warnings.

Nicole Kidman knew exactly what was going on. Ever since word got out that Duke Rosenberg had used a $5 million salary offer to veto Cruise for a role in Independence Day, her dear husband had dug up all his old grudges over The Rock and Interview with the Vampire. He hadn't taken the time to attend tonight's screening of Independence Day because he wanted to see the movie; he just wanted firsthand intelligence on his rival.

Although Tom Cruise never mentioned it, Nicole Kidman could guess he definitely had other moves planned.

Beneath the glamour of Beverly Hills, an abundance of darkness was always concealed.

About three miles west of the theater sat a mansion that paparazzi had staked out for the past year. In their articles and photographs, the once world-famous gentleman had been reduced to a piece of trash wallowing in the gutter.

Sean Connery sat in the mansion's living room, his hair combed neatly back and his thick beard impeccably trimmed. He looked every bit the true gentleman, save for the dark, sharp glint in his eyes that others would struggle to detect.

"Sean, do you really intend to do this?"

Across from Connery sat his most trusted friend, who also doubled as his publicist. "That's not a small sum!"

"$3 million is nothing to me!" Sean Connery squeezed the words through his teeth. "Jack, contact all the top film critics. I want them to launch the fiercest attacks on that bastard's movie! Warner Brothers and Twentieth Century Fox haven't done any PR with the critics—I bet those bloodsuckers are furious about it too!"

"Sean, doing this..."

Jack clearly had his reservations. "It won't do your career much good."

"Career?" Sean Connery practically ground his teeth together. "Jack, do you honestly think I still have a career? Even at its worst, could it be worse than it is now? All my dirty laundry has been dragged into the light. What else can Warner and Fox do? Hire someone to kill me?"

Jack didn't answer. Things were exactly as Sean Connery said: the gentlemanly persona he relied on to survive in Hollywood was completely destroyed. Scandals were everywhere, CAA had practically shelved him, and his divorce and asset division lawsuits dragged on endlessly. He hadn't booked a single job in a year—it was already the worst possible situation for a Hollywood star.

"Duke Rosenberg!"

The name was squeezed entirely through Sean Connery's teeth. "Jack, I have to see him suffer! I have to see him ruined! I have reliable intel that he's backing that mother and son. That high-profile lawyer fighting for my assets on their behalf—Duke Rosenberg's people must have helped find him!"

Sean Connery even suspected that his scandal exposure had something to do with the guy, although he had zero proof.

"Calm down, Sean!"

The people who understood these stars best were often their publicists and agents, and Jack knew Connery was impulsive. "What you need most right now is to stay calm. Acting on impulse won't solve anything."

"Contact the critics as soon as possible." Sean Connery took two deep breaths, temporarily suppressing his rage. "Especially Roger Ebert!"

"Don't worry, I'll get on it right away!"

Nodding to Sean Connery, the publicist strode out of the mansion.

For a director—even one with more experiences than others could ever possess—climbing to the highest echelon of the directing world was no less difficult than Earthlings defeating brutal aliens in Independence Day.

In this fiercely competitive circle, rivals wouldn't just stop at shouting slogans or firing off empty threats from afar...

In New York, at a theater on the Upper East Side, the midnight screening of Independence Day had just raised its curtain.

A massive shadow engulfed the Moon, the American flag and the lunar surface trembling endlessly beneath it. Aerin held her breath, unconsciously gripping Anna's hand. Then she saw a colossal spaceship flying toward Earth, and thinking of the content from the trailers and the posters' synopsis, her hand trembled slightly. The battle to defend Earth was about to begin!

'Typical Duke Rosenberg style.' Letting Aerin hold her hand, Anna began her habitual internal analysis. 'No idle chatter, and certainly no baffling nonsense. The movie gets straight to the point right from the start without dragging things out at all!'

"It's starting!" Aerin couldn't help but mutter.

Right next to her, David Denby, a film critic for The New Yorker, furrowed his brows tightly. The movie's very first frame used special effects—it was a complete show-off. A movie like this simply couldn't evoke any goodwill. It wasn't that a film couldn't use special effects, but was there any need to pull a stunt like this right at the start? Couldn't they take a gradual approach to the narrative?

"Opening, failure!" he scribbled directly into his notebook.

However, as the massive spaceship drew closer and closer to Earth, the fully rendered shots—crafted with practical models and CGI—provoked waves of gasps and awe throughout the theater, leaving the audience just as dumbfounded as they had been seeing the T-Rex in Jurassic Park the previous year.

This was the best special effects technology available today!

As a film major graduate, Anna was absolutely certain of this, and so was Sarah, the female reporter for the Los Angeles Times.

The film was still using Parallel Montage to reveal multiple facets of human life before the alien spaceship's arrival, as well as to establish several characters who were obviously the protagonists. Duke Rosenberg's signature explosion scenes hadn't appeared yet, but as Sarah sat in the Los Angeles municipal theater, she could tell from the bated breath and extremely earnest expressions of the audience around her that the movie was incredibly captivating!

Hollywood, the White House, the Capitol Building, the Lincoln Memorial, the Washington Monument, the Statue of Liberty, Central Park, the Empire State Building... countless iconic American landmarks were enveloped by the shadow of the alien spaceship.

In the skies above major cities like New York, Philadelphia, Los Angeles, Boston, and Chicago, fiery clouds brilliant as a sunset scattered, revealing the alien spaceship's true form!

On screen, everyone from children to police officers to taxi drivers was left dumbfounded. Off screen, audiences from New York to Los Angeles and from Seattle to Miami were also dumbstruck!

These meticulously crafted special effects might have merely been satisfactory in Duke's eyes, but to audiences of this era, they were the absolute pinnacle of realism!

In a theater near the University of Southern California, Allen, Jones, and Kunitz stared with wide, round eyes and slightly parted mouths, as if they had witnessed something unbelievable. The expression they revealed could only be described with one word—shock!

"God save me!" Kunitz clutched his chest. "With Independence Day out, how are we supposed to watch any other special effects movies?"

"Duke Rosenberg is destroying every other special effects movie in Hollywood!"

As the fiery glow gradually faded and the film entered a slower transitional sequence, Jones seized the opportunity to speak to his two companions. "Any movie relying on special effects as a selling point this summer is doomed!"

"Definitely doomed!" Allen agreed.

Naturally, what ordinary moviegoers focused on most were the special effects. They were all waiting, waiting to personally witness the moment America's major cities and iconic landmarks were destroyed by the aliens, waiting to see the fully realized scene of the White House turning to ash...

Sitting in a Chicago theater, Roger Ebert's focus certainly wasn't on the special effects. Although he wasn't a staunch opponent of special effects and massive budgets, as a film critic with a "highly refined" eye, his attention was inevitably drawn elsewhere.

Such as the film's structure and narrative style.

Aside from the core theme of the alien attack and how humanity responded, director Duke Rosenberg also started from the subtleties, firmly grasping some of the issues North American audiences cared about most. These not only relieved the nervous tension brought on by the suspense and massive set pieces but also served to embellish the theme and drive the story forward, thereby utilizing the limited screen time to flesh out several main characters.

For example, the film praised family bonds from several angles.

The federal President and his wife loved their daughter. Duke Rosenberg heavily emphasized how the President was always thinking of his daughter and wife; during many critical junctures, the President would nervously ask his subordinates—where is my daughter?—and in truth, these scenes didn't add up to many shots, but the director easily ensured that the image of "the President loves his child" was deeply seared into the audience's minds.

Even though Roger Ebert considered himself elegant and refined, he had to admit to America's mainstream value orientation that revered "family first." The President's family was practically a model for all American families. Duke Rosenberg's strenuous efforts to portray the American President's "family first" concept would undoubtedly pander to mainstream audiences.

There was also that Latino pilot who drowned his sorrows in alcohol, who bravely crashed into the alien spaceship for the sake of his children. The biggest reason he did so wasn't for some illusory, empty, and grandiose '-ism,' but to protect his children, sacrificing himself for his family.

Roger Ebert knew very well that this kind of sacrifice for family, despite seeming extremely clichéd, was often the most touching element in a film. It was a tried-and-true "tearjerker" that would leave massive crowds weeping; director Duke Rosenberg's decision to design it this way was similarly meant to pander to the audience.

Yes, in his eyes, whether it was the explosions or the depictions of familial and romantic love, the director Duke Rosenberg constantly clung to mainstream value orientations, pandering to the market and the audience in the most vulgar and detestable ways possible. But the most repulsive aspect of the film was something else entirely!

Yet this very scene ignited the emotions of ordinary audiences across America, proving to be the film's greatest trump card aside from its special effects!