Chapter 243: Complaints About Chicago

"Todd, you absolutely have to see The English Patient."

At the party, Harvey Weinstein stood before a veteran Academy voter, pressing him tirelessly. "Minghella directed a truly phenomenal film. It has tremendous artistic merit, and you just have to see it."

The man named Todd shared a drink with Weinstein and said, "I've already seen it, Harvey."

"That's wonderful." Harvey Weinstein's skin was undoubtedly thicker than the walls of the banquet hall. "Todd, isn't the movie fantastic? Doesn't it perfectly align with everything we've always advocated?"

Seeing the other man nod, he added in a coaxing tone, "The film is great, and there's no question about its quality. Would you consider casting your vote for The English Patient?"

"I'll consider it," Todd said.

Harvey Weinstein leaned in a little closer and whispered, "Miramax is hosting a reception after Christmas. You absolutely have to attend..."

He raised an eyebrow, and Todd offered a knowing smile.

Awards season was the one time of year when Oscar voters could truly assert their relevance. Although many were seasoned Hollywood veterans, very few remained as prominent in their old age as Arthur Miller. They were still ordinary people with material and emotional needs, making it inevitable that they would be swayed by external factors.

From the complete failure of his campaign for Reservoir Dogs to his eventual success with Pulp Fiction, Harvey Weinstein had come to see this circle clearly. He was bold in both thought and action, and combined with the inherent advantage of his Jewish descent, he acted with extreme audacity in executing his maneuvers.

Bidding Todd farewell, Harvey Weinstein walked over to another voter and struck up a conversation. Once he found the right opening, he asked, "Misha, are you saying you haven't seen The English Patient yet?"

"That's right. I just haven't had the time."

Clearly, this was an Academy member who voted blindly.

"What a pity." Harvey Weinstein was a masterful orator. "You really should carve out some time to watch this movie. It's fantastic. It celebrates..."

After singing his film's praises for a while, he added, "Later, I'll have someone send the latest disc and a DVD player to your house. It's a new model from Japan."

Seeing the man frown, Harvey Weinstein immediately changed his tune. "I don't mean anything by it, Misha. You're a voter—you have to watch the submitted films to make your choice, right? We're merely providing you with the basic equipment to view them. It doesn't violate Academy rules at all."

"Alright, I'll watch the film!"

Misha agreed with a beaming smile. He knew full well that the viewing equipment Miramax sent him would be his to keep!

Moving on, Harvey Weinstein continued to weave through the crowd. Upon finding a target, he would recall the background information he had gathered and engage them in a tailored conversation, tossing out his viewpoints at the perfect moment. He tirelessly persuaded people to watch or vote for The English Patient, occasionally dropping a few subtle hints.

For example, when one veteran core member expressed a desire to have dinner with Juliette Binoche, the French actress from The English Patient, Harvey Weinstein promised to do his best to bring her to the next gathering.

"You must be tired, Harvey."

While Harvey was standing to the side taking a break, Bob Weinstein walked over. He had always been the one pulling the strings behind the scenes, while Harvey Weinstein charged the front lines.

"Want to rest for a bit?" Bob asked.

"No need," Harvey said.

Since it was just the two brothers, Harvey Weinstein spoke without reservation. "Losing with Pulp Fiction taught me one thing: if you want to win an Oscar, you have to throw away your shame!"

On the other side of the room, Penny Kalis was also mingling. Though not quite as thick-skinned as Harvey Weinstein, she was a veteran Hollywood publicist, and she wasn't far behind.

"The day before yesterday, my granddaughter was clamoring to do chores."

A gray-haired older man was saying this to two men of similar age.

"And she ended up breaking a porcelain plate I've used for years. It was a piece of tableware with a lot of sentimental value..."

Hearing this, Penny Kalis walked over at just the right moment.

"Hi, Ander. Hi, Bill. Hi, Kinson."

She expertly greeted the Academy members and said, "Ander, I was just walking by and heard your tableware was broken. Is that right? What a shame."

"How about this," she said.

Seeing him nod, Penny Kalis didn't beat around the bush.

"I happen to have a batch of commemorative tableware printed with designs from Chicago..."

The men were completely unmoved. She laughed.

"It's the custom-made Vintage Rose Series from Britain's Royal Albert Company."

Ander's eyes immediately lit up. As a porcelain enthusiast, how could he not know about Royal Albert's Vintage Rose Series? This series wasn't particularly expensive, but it was impossible to buy. It was a line of porcelain custom-made specifically for European royalty.

Penny Kalis then looked at the other two Academy members.

"This is just a small souvenir we prepared. If you two are interested..."

Public relations was never as simple as mere verbal persuasion.

Canvassing for votes was only one part of the job. After catching his breath for a moment, Harvey Weinstein waded back into the center of the party and quickly located several film critics who held significant influence during awards season.

"Roger, it's truly a rare treat to see you in Los Angeles."

After warmly shaking hands with Roger Ebert, Harvey Weinstein greeted Gene Siskel, Todd McCarthy, and the others beside him.

Since they all made their living orbiting the film industry, their conversation naturally revolved around movies.

"I've said it before, Harvey, The English Patient is the kind of movie you can watch twice." Roger Ebert made no secret of his support for the film. "You might not understand it the first time, but on the second viewing, you'll carefully search for the answers."

Hearing Roger Ebert's words, Harvey Weinstein smiled brightly. The check he had offered clearly hadn't gone to waste.

The situation was quite clear now. The New Year was fast approaching, and all the films with genuine potential to compete for awards had already been released. Harvey Weinstein had meticulously studied the Oscars over the past few years; barring off-screen factors, The English Patient's biggest rival was Chicago.

And as for Duke Rosenberg's relationship with film critics...

When Best Director fell to Tim Robbins last year, it was hard to say exactly what role the critics had played. With such a favorable situation, how could Harvey possibly let the opportunity slip by?

Having largely reached a consensus with the critics and invited them to a small private party he was organizing, Harvey Weinstein headed toward a spot he had been eyeing all along. Frank Pierson, a member of the Academy's Board of Governors, was sitting there alone.

He was one of the Academy's core members and shared a friendship spanning decades with the current Academy president, Arthur Miller. Although they didn't wield an overwhelming amount of direct power within the Academy, they possessed tremendous influence and could sway the voting choices of a large swath of voters.

"Hi, Frank."

"Have a seat, Harvey."

Harvey Weinstein sat in the chair across from him. As two men of Jewish descent working in Hollywood, they were reasonably familiar with one another.

After exchanging a few pleasantries, Harvey Weinstein cut straight to the chase.

"Frank, do you have a favorite film yet?"

"Your film, The English Patient, and Duke's Chicago are both excellent."

Hearing Frank Pierson's words, Harvey Weinstein sneered internally. 'These old geezers pulled a balancing act last year, and they might just do it again this year. Even though Duke Rosenberg is a year older now, he's still only twenty-six.'

However, Harvey Weinstein wouldn't underestimate him; after all, Duke was of Jewish descent just like him.

"Chicago is very well shot. You could say that Duke is the director with the brightest future in our club since Steven."

Glancing across the table, Harvey Weinstein continued in a very casual tone.

"It's a shame that Chicago can't be considered an orthodox musical. The commercial elements in it are far too heavy; its North American box office is about to break 100 million."

Frank Pierson seemed to be mulling it over as well.

Harvey Weinstein immediately pressed on.

"Just my personal impression, but the winners of the past two Oscars have all been massive box office hits. The commercial flavor has been a bit too strong, which doesn't quite align with what the Academy promotes, does it? The Oscars have always been high-end, not populist. I believe the Academy should showcase its uniquely refined taste rather than catering to the demands of the general public."

Although Frank Pierson gave no outward reaction, Harvey Weinstein could tell that his words had struck a chord.

"I'd like to think there is still a distinct difference between the Oscars and the MTV Movie Awards, right?" he continued. "The Oscars are the most authoritative, professional awards in the industry!"

Seeing that his words seemed to be having an effect, Harvey Weinstein had no intention of stopping.

"Duke used to be a purely commercial director. He only began to transition with last year's Saving Private Ryan. All of Hollywood can see his progress, but..."

"Frank, don't you think he still has plenty of room to grow? The artistic quality of his films can absolutely continue to improve. The Academy can afford to wait for him to produce a film with even greater artistic depth..."

In order to boost his chances of winning, Harvey Weinstein would employ any means necessary, even if it meant crossing the Academy's bottom line. Moreover, he knew the advantages his background provided him, and he was well aware that if the Academy really wanted to make an example out of someone, there was no way Miramax would be the one caught in the crosshairs.

Private lobbying was just the most basic tactic. To secure an award, one also had to sustain a certain level of publicity—both promoting oneself and smearing the competition. Lowering the competitiveness of a primary rival would inevitably increase one's own chances of winning.

Harvey Weinstein and Bob Weinstein had figured out their strategy long ago. They had pinpointed Chicago's weak spot, and they were just waiting for the right moment to launch a massive public opinion offensive!