King of Hollywood-Chapter 256 - 254

Chapter 256: 254

Chapter 256: 254

The lights in the screening room finally came on, yet the place remained silent, no sound to be heard, not even the earlier sobbing; the persistent air of sorrow seemed to trap people, immersing them so deeply they couldn’t extricate themselves.

At last, the sound of clapping began, initially just one person, standing out awkwardly. The audience quickly responded, bursting into applause as if awakened from a trance, fervently clapping until it sounded like a thunderous tide that could lift the ceiling of the screening room.

“Thank you! Thank you!” Audience members came forward to embrace Spielberg, one by one with red-rimmed eyes, extremely agitated. These viewers were different from those elderly men of last time—though they were also old—those guys were used to the ups and downs of life, and wouldn’t fully express their surprise and shock. But the current attendees of the premiere, coming from Jewish communities across America, naturally couldn’t contain themselves after seeing such an outstanding movie.

“Thank you, thank you,” Spielberg, shaking hands and hugging each one of them, repeated the words while his eyes also brimmed with moisture. In between, he managed to cast a grateful glance at Adrian who was not far away. It was Adrian who started clapping first during that moment of silence, which then triggered such fervent applause.

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Adrian shrugged it off; he had gone through so much effort and used so many connections to invite these people to the premiere. He wanted exactly this kind of enthusiastic reaction. Even if he had not initiated the applause, they would have come around sooner or later.

People kept gathering around Spielberg until he was swamped with nowhere to turn. Unlike last time with just a few dozen viewers, the swarming crowd blocked his path. Liam Neeson and Ben Kingsley were treated with the same fervor. Those who couldn’t express their gratitude to Spielberg turned to them. Thankfully, the audience maintained their rationality and calm, and didn’t equate Ralph Fiennes with Amon, but that also meant that no one approached him to speak, leaving a wide berth around him.

“Doesn’t seem to be going too well,” Adrian joked as he approached.

“No,” Ralph shook his head, “I understand their feelings. In fact… watching this movie myself… I despised my own character, it’s truly unimaginable that such a person existed decades ago.”

“Yeah, that’s the magic of film,” Adrian shrugged his shoulders, “Steven’s storytelling is indeed top-notch, of course, your performance was also excellent, it penetrated to the bone.”

“Thank you, speaking of which, I haven’t thanked you yet, Ed,” Fiennes suddenly remembered something, “I recall Jedrick telling me it was you who directed him straight to me.”

“Yes, I remember Jedrick said, when he found you, you almost punched him,” Adrian laughed as he said.

“If some stranger turned up at their door wanting them to dress in a Nazi uniform for a few pictures, many actors would probably react the same way I did,” Fiennes shrugged, then looked at Adrian with a sudden smile.

“I suddenly don’t feel like thanking you, Ed,” he said.

“Oh? Why not?” Adrian raised an eyebrow.

“Because that role was so troubling, not to mention the problems during filming—I drank roughly 28 British Pounds worth of alcohol. God, I never knew I could drink so much. But what’s more, I worry that once the film is released, I’ll receive a multitude of threatening and warning letters from all over the world,” Fiennes joked. Adrian burst out laughing.

The two chatted for a while longer, and Spielberg, Neeson, and Kingsley finally extricated themselves from the excited crowd. Then everyone headed to the foyer to prepare for the press conference. Although Adrian attended as a producer, in reality, other than investing and giving advice, he did nothing else, so he quietly sat in a corner listening to Spielberg and the others answer questions.

The journalists didn’t pay much attention to him. Although Adrian didn’t win the Oscar this year and had rumors with Julia and Monica, these were far less sensational than last year’s news. Plus, with the prior promotional efforts putting Spielberg at the forefront, “Schindler’s List” had already garnered a lot of attention, so the reporters focused their questions on him.

Adrian was happy for the quiet, only interjecting a word or two when needed. The journalists clearly came prepared; after the two months of extensive promotion, most of them were quite familiar with the movie’s adaptation source and its tribulations. But Spielberg, well-adjusted by now, answered smoothly, as he had coped with many such scenarios before. Neeson, Kingsley, and Fiennes also responded aptly. This continued until a reporter from the “Chicago Tribune” asked a question.

“Did you truly understand Oscar Schindler’s life, Mr. Spielberg?” he asked.

As soon as these words came out, Adrian raised his eyebrows; clearly, this guy meant trouble.

Spielberg paused for a moment, then nodded, “Yes, of course, I started gathering information as soon as I obtained the rights to the book. I believe I know quite enough about Schindler’s life.”

“Then, don’t you think that the film’s portrayal of Schindler is somewhat exaggerated?” the reporter pressed.

“It’s perfectly normal for a film to take some artistic liberties,” Spielberg said, frowning slightly, but still patiently answering the question.

“But this isn’t just artistic liberties anymore,” the reporter said confidently, “I have read Schindler’s biography several times and collected quite a bit of relevant material. According to my understanding, Mr. Schindler was not as humanitarian as you depict him in the movie. It can be said that his hedonistic nature never changed, and he helped those people more because he heard about Germany’s impending defeat, so as to secure a way out for himself—okay, I admit the last part is speculative, but it’s a fact that he lived in the homes of the Jews he helped after the war and maintained an affair with the lady of the house. I think this affects the entire movie, making its foundation not so solid.”

Spielberg’s frown deepened, and he was obviously a bit angry, but before he could speak, Adrian had already taken the microphone: “Let me answer that question.”

Why would they let Spielberg handle that kind of situation?

The gazes of the reporters instantly focused on Adrian; previously they had also asked him some questions about his relationship with Spielberg, but he casually deflected them to Spielberg. Spielberg had praised Adrian for his support and their friendship, so they were very curious about what Adrian was going to say.

“Before answering that, I would like the gentleman to answer a question of mine,” Adrian said.

“Although it seems a bit unfair, it’s okay… please ask,” the reporter, sensing something but not quite sure what, nevertheless indicated it was fine.

“I would like to ask if it is a fact that during those terrifying years, Schindler saved about a thousand Jewish lives?” Adrian said, with his hands crossed on the table and appearing quite at ease; this surprised the other party.

Seeing the surprise, Adrian did not give him a chance to speak and immediately continued: “Regardless of what kind of person Schindler was, regardless of his motives for rescuing these people, he sheltered more than a thousand Jews, allowing them to survive. Isn’t this the most basic fact?!”

“Yes, of course, but…” the reporter wanted to counter.

“Everyone, when watching the movie, I believe you wouldn’t forget the final few scenes, where the surviving Jews, to thank Schindler, crafted a ring for him. Inscribed on this ring was a phrase,” Adrian slightly lifted his chin and swept his gaze across the room, a cold smirk seemingly twinkling in his eyes, “Can anyone tell me what that phrase was?”

No one spoke up now; they already knew what Adrian wanted to say. The reporter from the Chicago Tribune who had asked the question was touching his nose and looking away.

“Whoever saves one life saves the world entire!” Adrian spread his arms as if in prayer.

Then came a smattering of applause, though not loud and not many clapping, it seemed exceptionally jarring in the lobby, and Spielberg gave him an unhidden thumbs-up.

“Your answer was quite brilliant, Ed,” Spielberg praised after the press conference ended, “I can’t think of a better one.”

“Your answer would have been the same,” Adrian shrugged his shoulders, “Actually, I should have let you give that guy a piece of your mind, it’s just that after all the effort, we finally got this film released, and it was so superbly made; I really don’t like people making unwarranted noise.”

“Yes, it’s finally released,” Spielberg reflected, “Although I’ve said it many times, I still want to say thank you, Ed, thank you for everything you have done.”

“No need to be so formal, we all know what it’s for,” Adrian said with a smile.

“Yes, but sometimes I can’t help but wonder what it would feel like if the entire process—production, distribution, promotion—were completely under my control,” Spielberg suddenly said, then quickly added apologetically, “Sorry, Ed, I’m not saying you didn’t do a good job, you did great, I’m just a little emotional.”

“I understand, Steven,” Adrian laughed and waved his hand, “Remember what I said to you after the initial screening? You could totally start your own film company.”

“What, do you think starting my own film company is a good idea?” Spielberg asked with a bit of surprise.

“Why not? You have the capacity and the connections, and as long as you raise enough funding, you can set up your own film company. Maybe it will even become a major film company on par with Warner and Universal,” Adrian said, a unique gleam passing through his eyes. (To be continued, for further details, please log on to www.qidian.com, with more chapters, support the author, support genuine reading!)