Chapter 256: The Tragic Artistry

"Tom, isn't there any way to improve the picture quality? I can tolerate the music, but the image is just unbearable!"

"Sir, if we increase it any more, the computer won't work, and there's not enough disk space."

"What about using CDs as a medium?"

"Impossible, too expensive. In the short term, it's just a concept."

"Tom, even if I tolerate the first version, what's the next step?"

Tom shook his head with a bitter smile. "Unless it's like an arcade, but it doesn't have an expansion slot."

"Then do this: organize a team to see if we can use an independent CPU for graphics processing."

"Sir, does that count as an adapter card?"

"Not exactly. Microsoft is about to launch a graphical interface, and the CPU clearly can't keep up. If we use a chip for graphics, it will greatly enhance the PC's computing speed. You could also delegate audio decompression to it."

"Sir, with the added cost of dynamic memory, that's half the price of a PC."

"Come on, there are many who need graphics processing. Such professional accelerator cards should naturally be more expensive than computers. What are you thinking?"

"I understand. I'll arrange for development right away."

"No need to deal with this junk currently; try using a mini-computer." William White couldn't create a 3D accelerator card; it was just a 2D accelerator with limited use.

But this was just technological accumulation. Once they accumulated enough, Motorola could completely transition to making GPUs. This would be quite profitable, and often this thing was more expensive than the CPU.

Driving PCs forward had never really been about office software. If you're into gaming, you'd be a joke without a 3D engine.

...

Having arranged things in the gaming company, William White headed to the film company without stopping. The initial edit for Basic Instinct was done; he needed to review them.

Everything was ready now, and he didn't want editing to ruin this film. Sharon Stone's potential to become a goddess depended on the power of this film.

Hearing the applause around him, William White was pleased. Although today was an internal screening, many big shots were present. They had no need to flatter. If the film was average, they might indulge in polite small talk, but nothing more than that.

"William, congratulations; this R-rated film of yours is simply a textbook example."

"Lucas, are you insulting me or complimenting me? I'll take it as a compliment."

"Ha ha, not joking, William. If it weren't an R-rated film, believe me, you'd face a lot of lawsuits. Even now, you'll have trouble; the gay community is very powerful. Aren't you afraid of protests?"

"Ha ha, protests, huh? If they don't come, I'd have to provoke them. If no one's criticizing, what's going to fuel the buzz? Besides, with such a small U.S. population, if we don't 'straighten' them out, there will be problems."

"Straighten out? Are you serious? Ha, I'm dying of laughter. Breaking them sounds more likely."

Lucas was the more outgoing type, while Spielberg was more reserved. It was clear he also appreciated the film, and he thought William White was a perfect fit for this genre. Truth be told, this guy really knows what men like.

One thing he was sure of: feminist organizations were definitely going to give him a hard time.

In America, if you don't learn to deal with various groups, survival is tough. These folks are all idealistic fanatics; get on their bad side, and they'll give you a rough time.

...

"Hmph, I thought you'd forgotten all about me."

"How could I? You're so captivating I can't get enough."

"Get out of here, always dreaming those crazy dreams. Tell me, will this movie really make it big?"

"Sigh, don't worry, it'll do very well, just a pity for all those souls."

"Ha ha, those bastards, after watching the movie, they won't be as lucky as me. So they'll only have their right hand to rely on."

"Phht, you're rotten, aren't you?"

"Don't worry, even ten years from now, you'll still be the first choice for many," William White said wistfully.

"Darn it, I'll bite you to death."

"Ha ha ha, don't bite randomly, there, it doesn't hold up well."

No more about how this guy was enjoying himself; the movie had entered the review process. White Films was busy, after all, this was the boss's film, not an outsourced project.

White Films had a reliable boss and internal rating standards. Therefore, theater chains were naturally willing to cooperate with him.

Everyone makes their living with the almighty dollar; what good is a relationship during major interests? No one cares about how long you've been around.

William White's status in Hollywood was earned through hard work. Respect was earned by capability, and it's only the old stalwarts in the academy who seemed confused.

...

"What? Still filming art-house films?"

"Yes, sir, no doubt about it. Yesterday's film received high praise within the industry."

"Well, that's good. Art-house films are always low-budget and won't gain as much attention as comedies."

The majors in Hollywood were also having similar conversations. If they don't make such movies, no matter how well you do, it'll make at most a hundred million at the box office. If it reaches two hundred million, it's like God is watching over you.

What they feared most were big productions. If you make another one like Speed, they'd be in tears.

William White didn't shy away from making big productions; it's just that the box office had been overdrawn. This year had to be taken slowly.

Even cunning foxes like Lucas and Spielberg were inclined to think this way. Box office earnings, much like stocks, have their ups and downs.

The eight hundred million gross of E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial shocked Spielberg himself, let alone others. Those with investment were ecstatic, while others cursed openly.

Crushed by two outstanding films, the tragedy was unspeakable. Luckily, these folks were sensible, never daring to pit their big budgets against it, or they might end up like United Artists.

The tragedy of United Artists left many big wigs hopeless. That scoundrel Kerkorian shattered and sold United Artists piecemeal. As long as you had money, everything was negotiable.

No one liked that guy. William White may have been a rogue, but he genuinely loved movies. If you were less skilled, you couldn't complain about losing. Kerkorian was different; a downright thug who'd sell his own parents for profit.

Everyone knew United Artists was one step from dissolution. Being acquired wasn't scary, but being obliterated was over the top.

*****

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