Chapter 200: Unreconciled

Stepping into the dedicated dance rehearsal room built inside the soundstage, Duke stood by the door and watched the actresses warm up. Lily Fred and her assistants were scattered around Naomi Watts, Catherine Zeta-Jones, and the other main cast members, explaining the most basic movements and key points.

While he wasn't a complete layman, Duke truly lacked professional expertise in song and dance. Most of the time, he just watched and rarely voiced an opinion.

Lily Fred was not only a Broadway veteran but had also earned several Tony Awards nominations. The few routines she had already choreographed had won Duke's approval.

"Duke, there's something I want to discuss with you."

Seeing Duke, Lily Fred walked over and said, "I have a different opinion on the set design for the musical sequence."

"Go right ahead," Duke said.

She was a professional, and Duke was not the kind of on-set dictator who refused to listen to anyone.

"Shall we head to the soundstage, then?" she asked.

After Duke nodded in agreement, he and Lily Fred left the dance rehearsal room and entered the adjacent soundstage. They walked straight to a set construction area for the prison scenes. The set-building work here was relatively simple, and a row of sliding prop jail doors had already been installed.

Having worked together for a while now, Lily Fred knew Duke's attitude toward work. She didn't beat around the bush. Standing right in front of the iron prison doors, she said, "I think six chairs will be enough as props for this musical number."

Duke looked at her and gestured for her to continue.

Lily Fred elaborated, "This is the darkest, most oppressive musical number in the entire film. Based on my vision, we only need six chairs for props. Each woman will take turns stepping up to the front to defend herself for murdering her husband, and then they will all let out a roar from the deepest depths of their hearts. It's simple and powerful."

She pointed at the iron doors. "I've seen your concept. Aside from that, the sequence features duets, group dances, and a chorus, plus you want the actresses to hold strips of red silk. Such an overly complex and dazzling stage background will dilute the charm of their performances. It might even steal the spotlight."

"The simplest props, solo dances and singing, using the actors' performances to build the atmosphere." Duke walked over and touched the plastic iron doors. "Is that it, Lily?"

"Yes!" Lily Fred replied immediately. "I believe this is the most suitable artistic expression."

"Your idea isn't wrong, and your suggestion is very fair." Duke gestured around them. "But you've overlooked one thing. We are making a movie, not a stage play. These are two vastly different forms of expression."

"A film is more than just the actors' performances!" Duke paced past the iron doors. "I need more props, choreography, and a chorus to back them up and give this scene more visual impact. Movable iron doors, red silk to symbolize blood and death, plus the ensemble dances and the chorus—they might dilute the actors' performances, but they'll flesh out the scene and make it much more appealing."

When audiences watched a stage play, they could focus entirely on the actors. A film was different. If it relied on nothing but a dry solo performance, it wouldn't hold the attention of most moviegoers, even if the actor were a fusion of Meryl Streep and Tom Hanks.

From the day he chose this project, Duke had established exactly what Chicago would be. It was a musical, but it was also a commercial film!

Perhaps the approach Lily Fred suggested aligned better with artistic demands, and filming it that way would please certain professionals more. If the actors performed exceptionally well, it might even make winning awards easier. But Duke wasn't going to use it. He was the investor behind this film, and any methods that defied the rules of commercial cinema had to step aside.

Having resolved this minor issue, Duke and Lily Fred visited other sets under construction and exchanged views on many of the props and layouts. One was the director, the other the choreographer; clear communication between them was paramount.

All sorts of pre-production preparations ultimately had to be consolidated in the hands of Duke and Robin Grande. After a busy morning, Duke didn't feel a bit of relief until it was time for lunch.

"A croissant, beef and potato stew, and a glass of juice, please. Thank you."

In the Warner Studios cafeteria, Duke ordered his lunch and carried his tray toward the dining area. Because film crews frequently worked on the lot, many huge stars and major directors were regulars at this incredibly ordinary-looking restaurant.

Sitting at a spotless white table, Duke had just lowered his head to take a sip of juice when he heard someone across from him ask a question.

"May I sit here?"

Duke looked up, glanced at Catherine Zeta-Jones holding her tray, and said, "Grab a seat."

"Thank you!"

Catherine Zeta-Jones sat down opposite him. She set down her tray and gathered her damp, long hair behind her head. Duke looked at her loose knit sweater, guessing she had just taken a shower after practice.

"I haven't had the chance to say thank you," she said.

Seeing that Duke was just keeping his head down and eating without any intention of speaking, Catherine Zeta-Jones had to take the initiative to break the silence. "Thank you for giving me the role of Velma."

"Don't mention it." Duke smiled at her. "You earned it with your own outstanding performance."

If her audition hadn't been ideal, Duke definitely wouldn't have chosen her. Even if she was Catherine Zeta-Jones, and even if she was willing to offer something in return, he wouldn't risk his investment on a pointless gamble.

As for which was more important—his career or these actresses—he didn't even have to choose.

Like most actresses, Catherine Zeta-Jones ate very little, focusing her energy on Duke instead.

"I originally wanted to buy you dinner last weekend to show my gratitude, but my mother came over from Wales."

Sitting just a short distance from Duke, Zeta-Jones blinked those enchanting eyes of hers. "Do you have time this weekend?"

"Sorry..."

Thinking about his schedule, Duke could only slowly shake his head. "I'm going to New York to visit my mother. We made plans a long time ago."

Her deliberate display of disappointment vanished in a flash, and Zeta-Jones immediately changed the subject. "I can tell you're very close with your mother."

"My mother is my only family."

Duke set down his knife and fork. Zeta-Jones immediately handed him a clean, fragrant napkin. Duke took it and wiped the grease from his mouth. "My mother taught me a lot. Without her, I wouldn't be who I am today."

His mother was proud of him, and he was equally proud to have a mother like her.

From their brief exchange, Zeta-Jones quickly found a suitable angle of approach. "A great mother can give us so much help."

Duke completely agreed with this. "That's very true."

"I will never forget my mother," Zeta-Jones said, seemingly sinking into her memories, her eyes turning a bit red. "My original dream was to become a singer. But when I was sixteen, I fell severely ill. My vocal cords sustained some damage, making it impossible for me to bear the strain of singing frequently. At the time, I felt like my whole world had collapsed..."

Her voice carried a faint, infectious sorrow. "My mother kept encouraging me, helping me back on my feet. With her encouragement, I went to London to study professional dance, and that's how I achieved the little bit of success I have today."

"Of course, I also have to thank you for your help," Zeta-Jones said sincerely. "Duke, you're the one who gave me the chance to return to Hollywood and prove myself."

"Then I suppose the movie has to succeed," Duke said with a shrug.

Zeta-Jones asked in confusion, "Could it fail? I've never even considered that."

"No one can guarantee a film's success."

Hearing Duke's words, Zeta-Jones retorted without hesitation, "I think you are the guarantee of a film's success. How many directors in the world have had four massive hits in a row?"

Duke just laughed. "You have more confidence than I do."

"I'm just stating the most basic facts."

Very satisfied with how she had subtly steered the conversation between them, Zeta-Jones's smile looked even more charming. "I've been keeping an eye on Saving Private Ryan. Your style actually changed with this film, and the transition was so successful."

She picked up her juice, took a sip, and continued, "I saw the box office stats yesterday. A North American box office of 298.75 million dollars, and a global box office of 612.14 million dollars. It's the highest-grossing R-Rated Film in history!"

"An even higher-grossing R-Rated Film will come along soon enough."

Checking his watch, Duke stood up, ready to leave. "It's about time. I need to get back to work."

While preparing for Chicago, Duke also paid some attention to the recently sidelined Saving Private Ryan. Due to factors like its rating, this war film clearly didn't have the same staying power as Independence Day. By the end of November, the film had already left commercial theater chains like AMG, Regal Entertainment, and United Artists. The theaters still screening it were mostly independent chains located in New York and Los Angeles.

The strategy of the distributor, Twentieth Century Fox, was very clear: they were targeting the Oscars during awards season.

As time slowly marched into December, the traditional awards season of the North American film industry officially kicked off. The actors, directors, and studios hoping to contend for School Faction awards—along with their publicists and agents—all plunged into the busiest time of the year. Even someone like Duke, who didn't care much about the Oscars, had to adhere to his directorial contract and attend several consecutive PR events.

In this era, the Oscars provided a very noticeable boost to a film's commercial revenue. Although he knew he had almost no chance of winning Best Director, there was still some hope of cooperating with the producers and distributors to vie for the Best Picture Golden Statuette.

There was a tradition at the Oscars: if a film's director and producer didn't care about the awards at all, the film generally wouldn't win any of the heavyweight categories.

For the sake of his closely tied profit shares, before Christmas arrived, Duke hosted a special party at his home at the request of Warner and Fox.