Chapter 162: Normandy Cemetery

Calling it a move was an exaggeration—he had little to bring besides books and documents. With help from Sofia, Tina Fey, and a few others, Duke finished the job in half a day on Saturday. Early Sunday morning, the party planning company Nancy had hired rolled onto the estate and began busily decorating the garden for the evening's party.

Duke had originally intended to invite only his team members and a few close friends to the party, but Nancy Josephson and his new publicist, Penny Kalis, simultaneously vetoed the idea.

"You know exactly how important networking is in Hollywood," Nancy Josephson had told him. "You've always buried yourself in work and never hosted a formal social party. This is an opportunity!"

Despite the usual friction between publicists and agents in Hollywood, Penny Kalis agreed with Nancy. "Duke, you aren't a rookie director anymore. You're a major figure in Hollywood now! You have the standing to speak as an equal with almost anyone. If you want to sustain long-term success like Spielberg, you have to manage your network. Hollywood prioritizes profit, but interpersonal relationships within the rules can sometimes yield unexpected results!"

Though Duke knew there was another kind of director who could crush the world with their work alone, he knew he wouldn't walk that path. After all, there was only one James Cameron in the world.

And so, what was supposed to be a private bash transformed into a heavily commercial networking event.

This wasn't just Duke's affair anymore. Penny Kalis and Nancy Josephson also brought their assistants to the estate. Ever since Independence Day, a consensus had formed across Hollywood: Duke was a box-office money-printing machine. Both women highly valued this cash-cow client.

Simply put, Duke didn't just bring them financial gain. Just like Spielberg did for CAA, having a superstar director on their roster made it incredibly easy to pull in more business.

Compared to Nancy Josephson, Penny Kalis was a machine. Not only did she stand by Duke's side to outline what he needed to watch out for while mingling, but she didn't spare his new assistant, Tina Fey, either.

Penny Kalis handed Tina Fey a stack of documents half a foot thick. It was filled entirely with photos and brief profiles of Hollywood stars, socialites, and power brokers.

"This binder—you need to memorize their faces, names, and professions! And this one—not just their faces and names, but their hobbies, favorite topics of discussion, and what they hate..."

Standing in front of Tina Fey, Penny Kalis looked like the strictest of teachers. "Duke will be focusing his energy on his films. As his assistant, you have to stand by his side and constantly remind him who he's meeting and how to handle them!"

This wasn't just for today's party; it was preparation for the future.

Duke had flipped through the materials Penny Kalis brought earlier. Those on the priority list were mostly film studio executives, chief editors and high-ranking officials from major media outlets, and members at the core of the Academy.

"Duke, I've looked at the guest list."

After finishing her instructions to Tina Fey, Penny Kalis walked over to where Duke was sitting on the sofa. "Not a single core member of the Academy is on your invitation list. This will..."

"Penny, take a break." Duke gestured for her to sit down, then waved to a maid standing behind them. She immediately walked over with a coffee pot. Once she poured Penny Kalis a cup of coffee, he continued, "I don't know them, and I have no common ground with them."

Penny Kalis stared at Duke for a moment. "You aren't interested in an Oscar campaign?"

"Everyone loves the Oscar Golden Statuette." Duke shrugged. "If I said I didn't want to win Best Director, I'd definitely be lying. But if an Oscar campaign requires massive amounts of my time and energy, and forces me to make films tailored to their tastes just to please them—films that I actually hate—then I don't think the Best Director statuette is worth it!"

"So making a run for an Oscar isn't in your plans right now?"

Hearing the publicist's question, Duke nodded directly, speaking without any pretense. "Penny, I've discussed my plans with you. I do intend to change my style, but that change is to adapt to market needs and avoid audience fatigue, not for the Oscars."

"Of course, if the Academy is willing to give me Best Director, I'll be very grateful. If they don't, it's no big deal."

"With your age and qualifications, plus your rapid rise," Penny Kalis said before taking a sip from her coffee cup, "do you really think you can win that statuette without PR and behind-the-scenes maneuvering?"

"Which is why there's no need to place too much importance on the Oscars." Duke spread his hands. "I prefer to let the box office and commercial performance speak for me."

Penny Kalis nodded, understanding her employer's mindset. She stood up and walked aside to consider her next steps. Naturally, she wouldn't give up on persuading Duke to pursue an Oscar campaign; the awards season was usually the biggest source of income for publicists.

The sun gradually dipped toward the west. The garden outside had been completely transformed. Aside from a few long dining tables set up in the center, numerous oak tables and chairs had been arranged around the perimeter. Copious amounts of food and drinks were ready, and the party company's servers were already weaving among the dozen or so guests who had arrived early.

Back when he had planned to throw a wild party, Duke had asked the party company to contact a few agencies that provided professional models. But now that it had become a high-end networking event, that was naturally canceled.

Besides, just like any party hosted by a major Hollywood director or studio executive, plenty of women would inevitably find a way in. Anyone looking for a hookup would definitely have no shortage of targets.

As the sun sank lower, more people trickled into the estate. While it couldn't compare to a major awards ceremony, there was no shortage of famous Hollywood stars.

Nicolas Cage and Christopher Lee, who had become famous across America thanks to The Rock, arrived one after another.

The main cast of Independence Day followed shortly after.

The now-divorced Uma Thurman warmly greeted Duke with her arm linked through her new lover's.

Leaving aside the actors he had practically no friction with during filming, even Keanu Reeves and Johnny Depp—two of Hollywood's famous former bad boys—gladly showed up.

"Duke, I've been wanting to apologize to you, but I never had the right opportunity."

Standing near the garden entrance across from Duke, Keanu Reeves had lost a bit of his bohemian, cynical edge. His entire aura had become much more grounded. "I was completely ignorant when we were shooting Speed. I said a lot of things I shouldn't have said and did a lot of things I shouldn't have done. I also completely ignored the fact that you were actually trying to help me. I sincerely apologize."

At this moment, Keanu Reeves already possessed some of the presence Duke remembered him having. Naturally, this had a lot to do with the gap in their statuses. As long as they weren't complete idiots, no actor would deliberately antagonize a top-tier director without good reason.

This was partly due to the impact of River Phoenix's death, as well as his increasing age and life experience. It was also tied to the fact that his career hadn't progressed at all since Speed.

The reality was that several years had passed since Speed, and Keanu Reeves was still resting on his laurels.

Their statuses were completely unequal, and Duke had no intention of holding onto such ancient history. He lightly patted Keanu Reeves on the arm. "It's all in the past. Welcome to the party."

"Hey, Duke."

Only after Keanu Reeves finished hashing out the past did Johnny Depp walk over and shake Duke's hand. "You've been back in Los Angeles for a while now, right? Why haven't you dropped by my place?"

He leaned in a little closer. "The Viper Bar is a favorite spot for a lot of actresses, you know."

"Once I'm done with this busy stretch," Duke laughed, "I'll definitely go check it out."

After having someone guide Keanu Reeves and Johnny Depp into the garden, Duke only had to wait a few minutes before Tom Hanks and his wife walked over under the guidance of a server.

"This is your new place?" Tom Hanks walked straight over and gave him a hug. "Very nice. I've been wanting to buy a house in Malibu, but money's been a little tight lately. If Saving Private Ryan is a hit, we might just become neighbors."

After greeting Rita Wilson, Duke laughed. "I definitely don't want to be your neighbor, Tom."

"Why not?" Tom Hanks asked.

"You're about to become an Oscar Best Actor winner again. Let me think..." Duke put on a contemplative expression, then continued. "That should make you the second person in Hollywood history to pull that off. Think about it, Tom! You're going to spend your future surrounded by paparazzi. I don't want to get caught in the crossfire."

"It's still up in the air." Tom Hanks shrugged. "Anything can happen before the final results are out."

"Oh, right, Duke." His expression grew serious, dropping his joking tone. "Eno got definite word that a lot of people are trying to force a Golden Raspberry onto you."

"Let them." Duke knew exactly who "a lot of people" referred to, and he didn't care in the slightest. "My movies don't need their validation anyway."

"Don't ignore the negative impact a Golden Raspberry could bring."

Perhaps because they had gotten along so well on set, Tom Hanks offered a word of warning. "It can really lower audiences' expectations for a winner's next project."

"I understand!" Duke nodded and said, "Thank you, Tom."

Watching Tom Hanks and his wife walk away, Duke was actually completely aware of the situation. Given the intensity of the public relations war last summer—and his overwhelming victory—the professional film critics, who wielded immense influence and had a significant say during the awards season, were definitely not going to let him and Independence Day off the hook. The Golden Raspberry for Worst Director was practically in the bag for him.

He hadn't even brushed up against the Oscars, supposedly the most authoritative award in the industry, yet he was likely going to bag a Golden Raspberry first.

'Maybe I could go accept the award in person?' This rather absurd thought suddenly popped into Duke's head.