Chapter 200: Chills

[Chapter 200: Chills]

Everyone seemed to let out a sigh of relief. There was some concern that Eric might stubbornly pursue the Best Screenplay Award. After all, Eric had achieved a level of box office success that most people only dreamed of in their lifetimes. This accomplishment likely intensified his desire for personal accolades in film. Winning the Silver Lion would belong to the entire team, but taking home the Best Screenplay would be entirely Eric's own.

"Eric, it's really no big deal. I think the Oscars are where you truly belong," Bill Garrett said, seemingly trying to comfort Eric. Jonathan Demme nodded in agreement.

Eric shrugged noncommittally. "Thanks, Bill. I just wish those stubborn old men over at the Academy felt the same way."

They all laughed, sharing a bit more conversation before parting ways. Eric returned to his room with the materials on John Landis, consciously avoiding any appearance issues -- Virginia hadn't followed him, and Allen was staying in another suite downstairs.

...

The night in Venice still had a few hours to unfold, while it was still morning on the East Coast of the U.S. Despite spending over ten hours on a plane, Eric didn't feel tired at all, thanks to his long-established biological clock.

He stayed in his room reading up on John Landis until seven in the evening, when he finally changed clothes and headed out alone. The agreed-upon location was at a restaurant near the boutique hotel. Eric didn't need any guidance; he wasn't accompanied by a date either. Virginia was the leading lady, so having dinner with a judge wouldn't look good if someone saw them together. In this setting, Eric had less of a worry about being recognized; not too many people would know him here.

John Landis, in his early forties, wore black-framed glasses, had a prominent nose, and a full beard -- he looked every bit the quintessential Jewish filmmaker.

Another Jewish character!

Eric mused internally. The materials indicated that John Landis was good friends with Steven Spielberg. Both had cameo roles in each other's films over the years. Interestingly, Landis nearly rose to fame around the same time as Spielberg; while Spielberg set the industry on fire in 1975, Landis directed a film that grossed over a hundred million just three years later. They both found success at the age of 28.

However, Eric noted that by the 1990s, Landis's directing career began to fade, which might explain Eric's lack of familiarity with him in his past life.

...

In the restaurant, after John had ordered, he eagerly watched as Eric chatted with a blonde waitress who happened to speak English. Once the girl left with the menu, John spoke up. "Eric, you're quite familiar with Italian cuisine, I see."

Eric smiled and explained, "My dad used to be an Italian chef."

"Oh," John nodded, his expression indicating he knew about Eric's father's passing without needing to discuss it further.

As they waited for their food, Eric and John struck up a conversation, the focus shifting to films.

"What surprises me isn't your changing style but the fact that several of your distinctly different movies have all been box office hits. That's what's truly puzzling. I mean, I've attempted various styles, but the few that did well were all satire. Even Steven has been trying to break new ground for years, but his biggest successes remain within sci-fi and alike."

Eric replied, "That doesn't mean much, John. I might just be lucky. I've only directed a handful of films, and when I've done a few more, I'll inevitably hit some failures. Only then will I truly understand what I excel at."

Listening to Eric, John pondered for a moment before shaking his head. "No, it's different. You feel very different to me, Eric. Can you share where you learned to make films? I'd love to know, really. With your age, even making a straightforward film isn't easy. It took me years of experience before I could direct my first movie."

Eric couldn't mention his past life and settled for, "Honestly, it's just been luck. I wrote a script, and fortunate for me, I found a fantastic team. I'd just express the effects I wanted, and they'd make it happen for me. Without them, I probably wouldn't even have anything to show for it."

John accepted Eric's explanation without skepticism. Indeed, Eric's personal experiences could easily be attributed to good luck.

"I've watched that kid -- what's his name again? Stuart Ronkel. He's really something. If I had the chance... never mind, let's skip that."

Eric recognized why John brought that up. Seven years ago, John had been involved in an incident during film production that resulted in the deaths of several actors, including two underage performers. If not for the minors, it would have simply been a tragic accident on set, as such things happened frequently in Hollywood. But because of those two kids, John was dragged through legal battles for six years, finally emerging from lawsuits just last year. It was understandable why John was cautious about young actors.

"John, don't dwell on it too much. That's all in the past, right? I mean, it was just a heartbreaking accident."

Taking a sip of red wine, John solemnly added, "But they insisted on charging me with involuntary manslaughter. It felt just a bit much. I was only the producer; I wasn't even present when the accident happened. I apologized publicly and made ample amends, but some people clung to that incident. It took me six years to wriggle free. There were times I felt so overwhelmed I wanted to escape like Roman Polanski, just disappear abroad. I didn't want to go to jail."

Eric recalled the mention in the materials and sensed an undercurrent of something more in John's tone.

Whether or not Polanski was framed, he certainly had it coming for being caught in the act of assaulting a minor.

But John's situation felt tainted with more intrigue and conspiracy -- perhaps someone wanted to take him down, clearing out a competitor to protect box office shares. After all, while John might not have had Spielberg's fame, he had two films gross over a hundred million and several others that were also quite successful.

With that thought, Eric involuntarily felt a chill. John was a Jewish man in Hollywood with a whole community that would back him up; if someone could pull strings to ensnare him in a six-year lawsuit, imagine what they could do to him. He was quite alone in Hollywood. If anyone tried to take him down, it would spell disaster.

Shaking the worries from his mind, Eric reminded himself this wasn't the time for paranoia. He smiled at John. "Let it go, John. It's all behind you, isn't it? Look, your success last year was the most direct comeback, really."

John smiled at the mention of his recent triumph. "Indeed, once it hit theaters, that whole affair came to a close. But if it hadn't succeeded... who knows how long I would have been mired in it?"

As their conversation shifted, John grew warmer towards Eric. "Eric, I've watched your film several times -- both the suspense and the twists at the end had me applauding. In May, Cannes just awarded the youngest Best Director. I believe the Venice Film Festival won't hold back either."

Hearing John's comments, Eric understood he might be leaning toward advocating for him for the Best Screenplay award. He quickly shook his head. "John, I'm only nineteen. I haven't thought much about honors, honestly. If I receive recognition too soon, it might diminish my drive for the future, don't you think?"

John paused, then realization dawned on him, and he chuckled. "I see."

Eric smiled back, raising his glass towards John in a gesture of thanks. John raised his own glass in reply, softly saying, "Don't worry, I'll do my best."

Eric remained silent, finishing his wine in one go.

As he set down his glass and was about to delve back into conversation with John, he suddenly heard a somewhat familiar female voice not far behind him, cutting through the restaurant ambiance with a few snippets of conversation.

"Ha, that fat guy was hilarious, saying I look like... haha, and claiming he's a director... but you... that's savage."

Raising an eyebrow, Eric glanced in the direction of the voice. The sight of a girl with a head full of curly brown hair appeared in his view, and a smile crept onto his face. He couldn't believe Julia had shown up in Venice! The woman sitting across from her, obscured from view, had to be Elisabeth Murdoch, the younger daughter of the Murdoch family.

"What's this? Running into familiar faces?" John followed Eric's gaze but didn't recognize Elisabeth. If he saw her face-to-face, he might recall Julia, but from just a profile, he couldn't place it.

Eric nodded. "Two acquaintances, though they might prefer I don't say hello. I'll leave them be."

John glanced at the two girls in the distance and chuckled ambiguously. "You've got to make the move when pursuing women. Sitting here passively won't bring any cuties to your doorstep."

*****

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