Chapter 182: Box Office Explosion

She was a typical Northern European woman with beautiful golden-brown hair. In her high heels, she stood almost as tall as Duke. Her blue eyes were as bright as gems, and her pointed chin accentuated the strong lines of her face, while the rose-red gown suited her broad shoulders perfectly.

Face aside, her figure somewhat resembled Charlize Theron's; both were classically tall and broad-shouldered.

Women like her matured early. Judging by appearances alone, Duke couldn't pinpoint her exact age, but he guessed she was anywhere from sixteen to twenty-two.

Unlike dazzling Hollywood actresses, she wasn't stunningly beautiful, or at least her makeup clearly wasn't aiming for glamour.

Her earth-tone makeup highlighted a poised, dignified air. A faint nose contour and a touch of orange blush gave her features more definition, and her coral lipstick harmonized perfectly with the overall palette, matching her aura and giving her a stylish yet elegant look.

It took Duke about ten seconds to recall who she was. They had, after all, just exchanged greetings.

"Should I address you as Your Highness? Or Your Grace?" Duke asked politely.

Princess Victoria let out a soft laugh. "Do Americans care about such things?"

From Duke's angle, her smile revealed exactly eight teeth—clearly the result of systematic training. He returned a similar smile. "Not all Americans are vulgar country bumpkins."

"That is strictly a British opinion."

As she said this, Victoria glanced toward the crowd, where a titled duke of the British Royal Family had his chin tilted so high it practically touched his forehead. "You can call me Vicky or Alice."

"And you can call me Duke."

The crown princess of the Swedish Royal Family seemed more down-to-earth, skipping the tedious pleasantries. After chatting with Duke about the movie they had just seen, she added, "I'm very curious about America. I've always wanted to go to college there after I finish high school in France."

"Vicky, I suggest you look into the New York University Film Institute, or perhaps the USC Film School."

Since she wasn't putting on princess airs, Duke threw in a fitting joke. "You have great insight into film. Who knows? You might just make a unique mark in the industry."

He was purely humoring a high school girl like Princess Victoria. Any fool knew the Swedish crown princess couldn't become a film director. But given Duke's status, hearing such words spoken with absolute seriousness by a top-tier Hollywood director was incredibly flattering.

"It's been a pleasure chatting with you."

No matter how poised and dignified her exterior, she was still just a young girl. The smile on Princess Victoria's face grew more natural and genuine, shedding its well-trained veneer. "I've met a few French film directors as well. They only ever talk about art. It only takes a few sentences before you lose interest."

"The pleasure is all mine," Duke replied, adding a teasing edge to his voice. "My beautiful Highness."

Though she wasn't entirely a sheltered hothouse flower, her worldly experience—especially regarding topics like film and the entertainment industry that young girls loved—was nowhere near Duke's level. Perhaps because she rarely met someone she could discuss such things with, Princess Victoria hit it off with him immediately. Duke even managed to subtly coax her age out of her.

Compared to an ordinary high schooler, Princess Victoria might have been smart and sophisticated. But to Duke, she was just a bright girl with a bit of worldly experience who hadn't even turned eighteen.

The two chatted as they strolled toward a quieter terrace. Although Princess Victoria's attendants trailed at a discreet distance, Duke completely ignored them, keeping the conversation focused on topics Her Highness found fascinating.

"Being an actor isn't easy, especially for a widely recognized acting powerhouse like Tom."

During his earlier probing, Duke had learned she was a huge fan of Tom Hanks, so he didn't hesitate to drop the actor's name to his advantage.

Stopping by the terrace railing, Duke looked at her and asked, "Do you remember that scene in the film where Captain Miller cries silently?"

"I remember!" Princess Victoria nodded eagerly. "Mr. Hanks's acting was absolutely incredible!"

"To nail that scene," Duke said, adopting a secretive tone as he leaned in and lowered his voice near the girl's ear, "Tom poured his heart into it. I heard from Colin—Tom's eldest son—that during the Christmas holidays, Tom would often sit off by himself and just cry to practice. And when it finally came time to shoot, even after the take ended, Tom's tears didn't stop for a solid five minutes!"

"God, he works so hard."

Princess Victoria took a small step back, seemingly observing proper etiquette to maintain her distance. But as soon as Duke finished sharing the secret, he proactively stepped away himself, as casually as if he had just been gossiping with a close friend.

"If there's ever a chance in the future," Princess Victoria said, a hint of longing in her voice. Viewed from afar, that industry always possessed a uniquely dazzling allure. "I'd really love to visit Hollywood."

Duke naturally played along. "I could introduce you to Hollywood."

In truth, he knew this was just idle chatter. A crown princess held a position far different from that of Britain's Princess of Wales, and her every move had to be far more guarded.

Of course, if he actually managed to entangle the Swedish crown princess with Hollywood, the media in both Europe and America would owe him a massive debt of gratitude.

"It was wonderful chatting with you."

After her attendants stepped forward to remind her of the time, Princess Victoria offered her hand to Duke. "It's getting late. I have to head back to my school in Paris, so I must take my leave."

"Paris?" Duke gently squeezed her hand. "The crew will be heading to Paris for promotions next week. I was wondering..."

Princess Victoria immediately caught his drift. She leaned in closer, whispered a string of digits, and smiled. "I could take you on a tour of the Seine River."

Following the anniversary of the Normandy landings, Saving Private Ryan swept into Europe's major box office markets. From England to Ireland, from France to Germany, and from Sweden to Italy, the film commandeered nearly sixty percent of mainstream theater screens. Its massive promotional campaign sparked a moviegoing frenzy across the continent.

Just like in North America, World War II veterans were the focal point of the European promotional tour. Numerous British and French veterans sang the film's praises. After the crew arrived in London, the core cast and staff—led by Tom Hanks—made frequent public appearances, attending various promotional events to build massive momentum for the European release.

Many Fleet Street tabloids, deeply influenced and controlled by the News Group, swiftly zeroed in on the crew. They relentlessly churned out gossip and scandals about the cast and staff, capturing the attention of a nation arguably more obsessed with tabloid gossip than any other in the world.

As the film wrapped up its opening weekend in Europe, it inevitably drew the scrutiny of many European directors.

"The press can't wait to sing Duke Rosenberg's praises. They think he's produced a milestone in the history of war films."

Slamming his coffee cup down, Jean-Pierre Jeunet sneered. "No matter how touching its humanism or how realistic its battle scenes, nothing can cover up the fact that this is a purely commercial movie. Duke Rosenberg is just a cog on the vulgar Hollywood assembly line. Saving Private Ryan is just another extension of his destructive urges and commercial gimmicks!"

"Jean makes a very good point!"

Several French directors had gathered in the café, and one of them immediately chimed in. "Duke Rosenberg and his Hollywood don't have the slightest clue what art is!"

"Please don't forget that Hollywood movies already occupy over ninety percent of the European market share!"

The large, heavy-set man sitting in the corner was none other than Luc Besson, a man ostracized by the European Film Circle. "I just received the latest figures for Saving Private Ryan. It made 16.65 million dollars in its third weekend in North America, bringing its domestic total to 191.12 million! The first week in Britain pulled in 7.89 million, France 6.87 million, Germany 8.52 million, Spain 4.21 million, Australia 4.11 million... Its opening week overseas has already broken past 60 million dollars!"

The café fell into a brief silence. Luc Besson glanced over his pretentious, underachieving peers and continued, "Duke Rosenberg is only twenty-five, yet his films are sweeping the globe. Shouldn't that be a wake-up call for us? Can't European cinema learn a thing or two from him? Or are we just going to hand the European market over to Hollywood on a silver platter?"

Luc Besson's words struck a chord with a few, but most just shook their heads, clearly rejecting the large man's argument.

"Learn from Duke Rosenberg and Hollywood?"

Finally, Jean-Pierre Jeunet—the oldest director in the room—broke the silence, his voice dripping with utter disdain. "And let commerce and money defile the elegant art of cinema? Luc, you've spent some time in Hollywood..."

Listening to the man's long-winded lecture on art, Luc Besson couldn't even be bothered to argue. In their eyes, 'art' just meant having actors strip down on screen! And was their so-called disdain for Hollywood films actually genuine?

Take Jean-Pierre Jeunet, for example. He constantly mouthed off about looking down on Duke Rosenberg and Hollywood, yet he had recently accepted an offer to direct Alien 4 in the States. Was he doing that for the sake of art? Did he really think he could turn an Alien flick into an arthouse film?

Or perhaps he wanted the Alien and the female lead to have a fling...

At that thought, Luc Besson slowly shook his head, stood up, and walked out of the café without a backward glance. In his view, as long as this crowd of directors controlled the narrative of European cinema, the industry would only continue to decline, inching ever closer to the grave.

As Saving Private Ryan wrapped up its opening weekend in the overseas market, Duke led his crew into Paris.