From Hollywood to Media Empire

Los Angeles, Pacific Time, 2:00 PM.

The area around the Kodak Theatre on Hollywood's Walk of Fame was packed with people eagerly anticipating the annual Oscars.

Luxury cars, each carrying meticulously dressed stars, lined up at the venue, filling nearby parking lots to the point that cars had to be parked in other neighborhood lots.

The red carpet extended directly to the entrance of the Kodak Theatre, flanked by shouting fans and ceaselessly snapping media reporters.

However, this year's red carpet affair was much simpler than usual, likely influenced by the ongoing Iraq War. Security personnel were also on high alert to prevent any disturbances.

Anti-war protesters certainly wouldn't miss an opportunity to stage a demonstration during the Oscars.

Charles Carpe, being part of the Lost in Translation crew, naturally attended, with his mother Evelyn Carpe, dressed to the nines, accompanying him.

"No wonder stars love walking the red carpet; the atmosphere sure is intoxicating," Charles remarked as he walked. The red carpet might have been shorter this year, but it was still there.

The weather in Los Angeles was nice, with plenty of sunshine casting a lazy warmth over everyone.

"This is what makes Hollywood so attractive," Evelyn commented, clutching her purse beside Charles.

"Look, there's Sofia and the crew," Evelyn noted, spotting some members of the Lost in Translation crew chatting ahead.

"Let's go!" Charles wasn't exactly thrilled to have arrived so early, considering the award ceremony started at 5 PM and would run for nearly four hours!

Having eaten lunch, they wouldn't get to eat again until 9 or 10 PM. No wonder those stars on TV looked so happy munching on pizza; they were probably starving by the time they started devouring burgers as soon as the awards ended.

After greeting their crew, Charles made his way to the media hall. While fans and reporters outside were keen on seeing the stars, as a producer, Charles believed networking was essential.

At the entrance, they bumped into Catherine Zeta-Jones, nominated for Best Supporting Actress for Chicago. Her husband, Michael Douglas, naturally accompanied her.

"Charles, long time no see!"

"Catherine, congratulations! The Best Supporting Actress award should be yours!"

The two hugged. Charles noticed her slightly rounded belly - she was pregnant. Memories of that night flashed through his mind, but he shook his head; it felt like ages ago.

"The award ceremony hasn't started yet, so no one knows the outcome," Catherine Zeta-Jones mused. She surely wanted Oscar's recognition. "But your achievements last year were astonishing," Catherine replied, thinking back to the Golden Globe Awards where she attended with her husband. Lost in Translation had been a big winner.

Charles smiled enviously. "That was just the success of one movie for me. Chicago had a much bigger impact; it grossed over $100 million in North America alone and $300 million worldwide!"

It was Miramax's highest-grossing film yet!

Charles glanced at Michael Douglas being interviewed by reporters nearby. Michael was known to be a bit jealous.

After all, with an older husband and a dazzling young wife, Michael's white hair and wrinkles contrasted sharply with Catherine's glamour.

"Miramax has good taste. Charles, make sure to come to the next party we throw!" Catherine urged.

Charles nodded and then parted ways with her.

The media hall was even more crowded, teeming with stars and guests.

Soon, Charles encountered more familiar faces - Tom Hanks and his wife, Oscar contender Nicole Kidman, and Best Actor nominee Nicolas Cage, among others.

By the time the Oscars began at 5 PM, a sizable anti-war crowd had gathered near the Kodak Theatre, chanting their slogans.

"It's interesting. Some award presenters or winners are bound to call for peace on stage," Charles commented, sitting with his mother on one side and Scarlett Johansson on the other.

Evelyn glanced at her peace pin and whispered, "Whether or not the stars care, their management teams will remind them."

"Maybe some will even express their opinions more vigorously," she added.

"Heh, Mom, you're overthinking it. Most of them will just say something brief about peace. In fact, many support the war," Charles continued mockingly. "Bruce Willis, Robbie Williams - they're all for the war. Besides, the Oscars' committee hates it when stars discuss politics. Only those with significant status dare to, while the rest just follow along!"

"And you? You're against the war, right? You gave me this anti-war pin," Evelyn remarked.

"Of course I'm against it. Public sentiment is heavily anti-war right now. No film company would publicly say otherwise," Charles replied, looking at his mother. He continued to remind her, "Mom, you should attend more political fundraisers. It'll definitely help our future business - funding campaigns and aiding media coverage, etc."

Perhaps the 2003 Oscars were quite boring. After Sofia Coppola accepted the Best Original Screenplay award, Charles left his seat.

Inside the Kodak Theatre, seat-fillers were plentiful. Many guests vacated their seats to use the restroom, grab a drink, or simply leave.

Seat-fillers would then take their places to avoid empty seats on camera.

Where did Charles go? He went to meet representatives from Media Asia Films, who had flown in from Hong Kong.

They discussed acquiring the script for Infernal Affairs. A few companies had expressed interest, including Robert De Niro's and Brad Pitt's production companies.

However, Charles offered a direct price of $1.5 million, the highest at the moment. After a few phone calls, Media Asia's representatives tentatively agreed.

They just needed to sign the contract the next day. As Charles left the hotel, he wondered if he had paid too much.

In the past, Plan B bought the script for $1.75 million, but that was Warner Bros.' money and happened at the end of 2004. Now, it was just the first half of 2003.

Charles shrugged - it's $1.5 million, so be it.

*****

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