Chapter 173: Neither Side Played Fewer Tricks Than the Other

"Mr. Gibson, don't you think it's a bit much to portray William Wallace—a universally acknowledged traitor to Britain—as a hero?" The moment Mel Gibson stepped out of the premiere theater, dozens of reporters surrounded him. They seemed to have been waiting specifically for him, armed with carefully prepared questions.

"Are you just naturally drawn to traitors and informants?"

"Mr. Director, shouldn't you check your historical sources before making a movie? Shouldn't it align with at least basic historical records?"

Naturally rebellious, Mel Gibson glared at the reporter who asked the question and answered coldly, "History is written by the victors..."

Before he could finish, his publicist gave him a sharp tug. Those were not words meant for a public setting.

The surrounding reporters grew even more excited. One wearing a press badge for The Sun shouted, "Mel, are you saying that all recorded British history is fake? Do you think Scotland should be independent? Don't you think this blatant interference in British internal affairs is going too far?"

"If history is written by the victors, as you say, does that mean the recorded histories of America and Britain don't exist? Does World War II not exist either?"

The reporters seized the opportunity to relentlessly hound him, desperately hurling all sorts of baseless accusations at Mel Gibson. They stopped just short of calling him a traitor and an informant himself.

Mel Gibson snapped his mouth shut, refusing to respond to any more of these sensitive questions. He didn't let out a sigh of relief until his car pulled up and he slipped inside.

"Those reporters are mostly from Warner, Disney, and News Group, along with a few from Fleet Street."

Once the car door closed, his publicist reminded him, "Mel, the subject matter of the film is already somewhat sensitive. Even if your intention is to use the controversy to drum up attention, you absolutely cannot respond to sensitive questions like the ones they just asked."

Having fought his way through Hollywood for so many years, a now-calm Mel Gibson understood this perfectly well. Those reporters clearly wanted to drag him into a ditch. He had to be careful around these kinds of media traps.

'Damn bastards!'

He looked through the car window toward Hollywood. What had just happened was undoubtedly tied to a certain other film crew.

"Gil, have we received the premiere feedback for Saving Private Ryan?" Mel Gibson asked his assistant in the passenger seat. "What's the response?"

"The audience gave two standing ovations during the screening."

Through the rearview mirror, the assistant could see Mel Gibson's grim expression. "And both times, the applause lasted quite a while."

"That doesn't mean anything!"

As an industry insider, Mel Gibson knew perfectly well that planting shills in the audience to lead applause and cheers during specific scenes was a tactic most productions used. In his own movie, for instance, when William Wallace shouted "freedom," it was actually the planted shills leading the audience to clap.

While that kind of battle cry would definitely please the old men at the Academy, its actual impact on regular audiences was merely average.

"Anything else?" he asked.

"After Saving Private Ryan finished screening, the applause lasted for over ten minutes." The assistant stopped checking Mel Gibson's expression and instead stated the facts, allowing his employer to make an accurate assessment. "Duke Rosenberg and Tom Hanks led the crew in four consecutive curtain calls, and the audience still refused to leave!"

"What?"

Mel Gibson's face turned unusually serious. Such prolonged applause and so many curtain calls could never be orchestrated by planted shills. There was only one possibility: the film had triggered a powerful emotional resonance with the vast majority of ordinary moviegoers!

Could it be that the film was even more outstanding and devastating than they had anticipated?

Even after returning to his mansion and lying in bed, Mel Gibson was still pondering this. Meanwhile, in distant Chicago, Roger Ebert and Gene Siskel had already confirmed it as they walked out of the movie theater.

They had both attended the test screening of Braveheart, so they chose Saving Private Ryan for their midnight screening. After watching it, their faces were taut. They walked into the theater lobby in complete silence.

"Is this really Duke Rosenberg's work?" Siskel was the first to break the silence. "No car chases, no exaggerated explosions, no aggressive camera cuts... This doesn't look anything like the style of his first three films."

"But it is indeed his work!" Roger Ebert blinked, as if still recalling the film's contents. "You must have noticed, Gene, that there are a lot of explosive scenes in the movie. In fact, some were completely unnecessary. Who else but Duke Rosenberg would cram so many needless explosions into a film?"

"Michael Bay!"

He seemed to be trying to ease the atmosphere with a joke. "Didn't people say the director of last month's Bad Boys learned everything from Duke Rosenberg?"

"Let's stick to this movie," Roger Ebert said softly, nodding to a fan who occasionally waved at him. "He has truly grown. We were all mocking him, and what's the result?"

"Duke Rosenberg didn't shy away from the bloody violence of war, nor did he depict it from a high strategic vantage point. He solely focused on the war's most direct executors, reflecting the conflict from the perspective of ordinary soldiers. He used the simplest, most unadorned methods to authentically reveal every aspect of the battlefield."

Since this was a private conversation, Gene Siskel didn't hide his true opinion either. "There has never been a movie that depicted the cruelty of war so directly. The hail of bullets, the bloody carnage, the endless wails—the realism of the footage makes it hard to even look directly at the screen."

Nodding in agreement with his old friend, Roger Ebert said, "The film's reflection on war is greatly elevated through that cruelty. The so-called concepts of justice and injustice seem incredibly fragile in the face of death. Duke Rosenberg also dug deep into human nature. The soldiers in this war—whether heroic, resolute, cowardly, or retreating—have their fundamental humanity laid bare. The profound thought and shock this movie brings are worth experiencing over and over again."

"Roger, how should we review it?" Gene Siskel looked reluctant. "If we attack this film..."

"Don't attack it. That will only bring us trouble," Roger Ebert said, shaking his head. "Don't forget, this year is the fiftieth anniversary of the victory in World War II. The whole world, including North America, is holding a series of commemorative events. The film's political stance and core values are so impeccably correct that attacking it will only backfire on us."

He looked at Siskel. "Ignore it. Neither praise nor attack it. Just pretend this movie never existed!"

"I suppose that's all we can do."

Stepping out of the theater and into the same car, Siskel changed the subject. "Mel Gibson is going to have major trouble during awards season."

They had attended the test screening of Braveheart and had spoken with Mel Gibson personally. They knew this ambitious Australian's goal wasn't just the summer season market, but also the major prizes of next year's awards season.

"In my view..."

Although his eyes flickered with anger toward a certain director, Roger Ebert's words were quite calm. "If Duke Rosenberg were ten years older, the Oscar Best Director Statuette next year would definitely be in the bag for him, given this specific timing, the film's unique subject matter, and his own ethnic background."

"It's a pity..." His voice turned sinister. "We can stay silent now, but awards season won't!"

"So we hit him with everything we have when the time comes?"

At Siskel's words, Roger Ebert gave a slow but firm nod.

The black car drove through the streets of Chicago, heading for the suburbs. Along the way, it passed an independent theater that was still brightly lit. The explosive popularity of the midnight screenings showed no signs of fading.

Criswell was the owner of this independent theater. Because it was an independent operation, he often had to invest far more energy into managing it. Especially on weekends when major productions premiered, he would regularly stay until the early hours of the morning.

Today was no exception. Even though the screening of Saving Private Ryan had ended, he had no intention of leaving. Instead, he asked his staff to randomly poll the audiences of the two newly released films for their thoughts.

It was a frustrating necessity. An independent theater like his certainly couldn't afford to hire a specialized survey company. If he wanted to adjust the screen share appropriately for the following day, he had to figure it out himself.

He stood right at the exit of the auditorium, listening to the audience's reactions.

"An outstanding plot, excellent actors, and a perfect presentation of visuals and sound. Saving Private Ryan is simply the greatest war movie ever!"

The first to walk out were the viewers of Saving Private Ryan. Many looked exhausted, their eyes red as if they had been crying...

"Fuck... Duke Rosenberg, the movie he made is so fucking good, he made me cry!"

"I want to curse him out too. He made a war movie like this—how are we supposed to watch any other war movie from now on!"

"And Tom Hanks. The look in Captain Miller's eyes when he died still makes my heart ache!"

There was also a slightly older fan who wasn't as impulsive as the younger ones, appearing remarkably calm. "In the past, there have always been movies claiming to be a collaboration between powerhouses, but they only brought disappointment upon release. What Duke Rosenberg and Tom Hanks have delivered this time is a true powerhouse collaboration!"

Listening to the genuine reactions of the fans from the sidelines, Criswell nodded continuously. Duke Rosenberg truly was a guaranteed source of income for the summer season!

A few minutes later, the screening for Braveheart also let out.

"The movie is alright, but it's a story about the Scottish. It doesn't really have anything to do with us in America."

One fan shook his head and walked right off, while another said, "Mel's performance is stunning, but his directing skills feel mediocre. The plot is too slow, too drawn out."

Finally, a male viewer in his thirties said, "The way the movie tries to stir up emotion is too crude. We all know the importance of freedom, but there's no need to scream it out like that. That shout of freedom felt so fake it made me want to throw up. On this land, I think the monkeys in the zoo are more real and more free than William Wallace's exaggerated scream of freedom!"

Returning to his office, Criswell immediately called in the business department manager. "For tomorrow's daytime screenings, drop the screen share for Braveheart by 10 percent from the original plan, and increase Saving Private Ryan by 10 percent!"