Chapter 215: Who Should Be Responsible

The atmosphere around the Braveheart crew was exceptionally oppressive. With only two awards left, they had secured nothing more than the inconsequential minor prize for Best Costume Design. The sheer scale of their failure was practically comparable to that of The Shawshank Redemption the year before, and many of them looked at Mel Gibson with distinctly cold eyes.

If it wasn't for this idiot shooting off his mouth while drunk, if it wasn't for this director dragging the crew down, would Braveheart be in this situation? At the very least, they could have matched Saving Private Ryan in the technical awards, couldn't they?

As long as he wasn't drunk, Mel Gibson's mind remained relatively sharp. He could sense the less-than-friendly atmosphere around him. The very people who used to be completely subservient to him on set were now staring at him with nothing but resentment and disdain. But he could ignore them; as long as he could win Best Director, these people would inevitably swallow their pride and flock back to him one by one!

As long as he could get Best Director, he would have the capital to stage a comeback!

No matter how slim the hope, Mel Gibson still clung to a sliver of wishful thinking.

He turned his head to look at the Saving Private Ryan crew over twenty feet away. A beautiful, sexy brunette was whispering something into Duke Rosenberg's ear. The easy, comfortable way they acted made them look like a picture-perfect...

Suddenly, Mel Gibson thought of Sophie Marceau. She was also one of the people who had framed him. After the incident, she had fled back to France and was currently negotiating to terminate her contract with Martin Bob. Word had it that she had secured Eno Martin's support and would be able to leave Martin Bob without paying too high a price.

These damn actresses had absolutely no principles or bottom lines when it came to fame and fortune!

If he got the chance to rise again, he would never trust another female star.

The chance to rise again was right in front of his eyes!

"Mel Gibson seems to be looking our way," Zeta-Jones whispered in Duke's ear. "Does he still have a chance to win Best Director?"

Duke shook his head. "Who knows? Let's just wait for the answer to be revealed."

On stage, Robert Zemeckis stood beside the large screen, introducing the nominated directors in tandem with the footage.

"Chris Noonan, through the fate of Babe in Babe, depicted a child's gradual awakening to the adult world."

"Mel Gibson, you and Braveheart have shaken the human soul. Freedom has always been so precious!"

"Tim Robbins, even though Dead Man Walking is only your second film, you have brought us the conviction that everyone deserves respect!"

"Duke Rosenberg, with a milestone war film like Saving Private Ryan, you have told us to cherish life and help others!"

"Michael Radford, The Postman is so outstanding..."

Chandler Hall was extraordinarily quiet. Only Robert Zemeckis's voice echoed through the room. He turned away from the big screen and faced the audience.

On the large screen, the five nominees occupied their own divided frames, each wearing a completely different expression.

Without making anyone wait, Zemeckis opened the envelope and glanced down at it. The air in Chandler Hall seemed to freeze.

Would it be him?

At a moment like this, claiming to be calm or not wanting to win was pure nonsense. Duke subconsciously reached back and grabbed Catherine Zeta-Jones's hand. Zeta-Jones squeezed his hand in return, a fleeting flash of triumph passing through her smile.

Mel Gibson's eyes were full of longing as he looked at the stage. He had never felt that the Oscar Best Director was as vital as he did right now—so vital that it concerned the success or failure of the rest of his life!

Tim Robbins tightly clutched Susan Sarandon's hand. He was last year's loser, and his girlfriend had just taken home Best Actress. He had put in a massive amount of work beforehand and had absolutely no desire to be the loser again!

Who would win?

In the ABC Television studio, Roger Ebert had been closely watching the live broadcast. They had put far too much work into this Best Director award. Most of the prominent film critics had abandoned their prejudices and made a rare united effort. Through columns, lobbying, and other methods, they sought to influence the old men in the Academy who had grown up alongside them, all to stop Duke Rosenberg from getting his hands on the Best Director Golden Statuette.

For this moment, he had practically sacrificed his own dignity. After all, once the Mel Gibson scandal broke, the other films were simply too weak, forcing people to choose Duke Rosenberg.

He would not win!

Thinking of the efforts he had made, the efforts made by Siskel, David Denby, Todd McCarthy, and the others, and then thinking of the fact that the other party wasn't even twenty-six years old, Roger Ebert firmly believed it was impossible for him to win!

He knew the bottom line for most of the old men in the Academy: the winner for Best Director would never be under thirty!

"The winner is..." Robert Zemeckis took another glance at the card pulled from the envelope. "Tim Robbins, Dead Man Walking!"

When the answer was announced, Chandler Hall did not immediately erupt in thunderous applause. People's reactions varied wildly.

'It's over!'

This was Mel Gibson's immediate thought. He slumped back in his chair, his head lolling to the side and his eyes slightly glazed over. His final hope had been shattered after all!

Catherine Zeta-Jones turned her head to look at Duke, wanting to offer comfort at the very first moment. When a man suffered a blow and experienced a setback, it was often when his mind was at its most fragile, and it was the best opportunity to conquer him.

However, what she saw was a smiling Duke, as if losing the Best Director Golden Statuette had no impact on him whatsoever.

In front of the television, Roger Ebert pumped his fist hard, even unconsciously shouting out a "Yes!" As he watched the broadcast cameras sequentially cut to close-ups of the losers, he immediately focused his attention. He wanted to see Duke Rosenberg looking dejected. Instead, he was disappointed. Just like every time he had seen him in the past, the young director remained steadfast, resolute, and calm.

"Rigged! It has to be rigged!"

Inside the Explosion Maniac Chat Room, it currently looked like a bomb had just gone off.

"What kind of movie is Dead Man Walking? Has anyone even heard of it?"

Duke of Destruction posted, "My premonition came true. The judges are playing a balancing act after all!"

"What a trashy Oscar, I'm not watching anymore!" Rose Mountain was exceptionally indignant. "They're obviously bullying Duke for being young!"

"Don't stop watching!" Ryan Saving Private tried to placate them. "They're about to announce Best Picture!"

Allen furrowed his brow tightly. After a long while, he finally swallowed the urge to curse and typed out a line of text: "Duke is still young. With how fast he makes movies, he'll have plenty of chances in the future."

"What if it's like this again next time? He's only 26!"

Following that, the chat room erupted in a flurry of text cursing the Oscars and the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences. The freedom, openness, and timeliness of the internet in terms of information flow were displayed beyond all doubt.

As Tim Robbins went on stage to accept the award, the people around the Saving Private Ryan crew gently patted Duke's arms and back as a sign of comfort. Duke could only accept it all in stride. Looking at the new Best Director receiving his Golden Statuette on stage, he marveled at the man's good luck. He had gone to great lengths to take down Mel Gibson, only to hand the victory to Tim Robbins, who didn't even owe him a favor for it.

Mrs. Leah turned her head and looked his way, swallowing back the words of comfort she had intended to say. She understood her son's temperament. Duke possessed a resilient character when it came to his career, growing braver with every setback. No matter what kind of blow or failure he faced, it would only make him more tenacious. This minor defeat was absolutely nothing.

Compared to this, she was actually more worried about Duke's private life. Even though it was her first time meeting the British actress beside him, the woman had not left a good impression on her. Her intuition told her that this woman was too ambitious, had too many schemes, and was overly driven by ulterior motives.

However, she didn't plan on saying anything. First, it was the wrong occasion, and second, she believed Duke knew what he was doing.

Duke made her proud as a mother in every aspect, except in his private life, where he was just as much of a bastard as his father.

Seeing his mother looking at him, Duke offered her a smile to show he was fine, then turned his attention back to the stage. The awards ceremony had reached its finale, and the most heavyweight award was about to be presented.

Whether Saving Private Ryan would become the biggest winner of the night or be reduced to an object of media sympathy the next day all depended on where this final award went.

Many people were waiting in eager anticipation, wanting to see if the Academy would have a collective spasm tonight, wanting to see if those old men felt their lives were too peaceful and wanted to cause some trouble for themselves.

Of course, in the minds of the vast majority, there was no suspense regarding this award. Throughout the promotional campaign of the awards season, Saving Private Ryan had consistently been closely linked to the fiftieth anniversary of World War II, earning unanimous recognition from the public, the media, and the industry alike.

Sidney Poitier, the first Black Best Actor in Oscar history, walked onto the stage to serve as the award presenter for Saving Private Ryan. This choice seemed to have been carefully considered by the Academy; after all, Saving Private Ryan had previously faced protests from some Black organizations.

The Black Best Actor didn't waste any words. Standing just to the side of the large screen, he began introducing the nominations. "Braveheart, Mel Gibson and Bruce Davey; Babe, George Miller and Bill Miller; Saving Private Ryan, Charles Roven and Robin Grande; The Postman, Gaetano Daniel; Sense and Sensibility, Lindsay Doran."

He tore open the envelope with the swiftest movement, pulled out the card, glanced down at it, and directly read out the answer. "Saving Private Ryan, Charles Roven and Robin Grande, congratulations!"

This time, there was no hesitation. The applause rang out immediately. Duke stood up while clapping his hands. After hugging Zeta-Jones and his mother, he spread his arms outward, gesturing to the people around him. The people nearby stood up in droves, and the human wave spread across the entire hall as rapidly as the applause.

The entire audience inside Chandler Hall rose to their feet to applaud once again!

Saving Private Ryan had secured the final and most heavyweight award of the 68th Oscar Awards Ceremony, taking home nine Golden Statuettes from eleven nominations and becoming the biggest winner of the night.