Chapter 721: The 84th Oscars

On the afternoon of February 26, 2012, the 84th Academy Awards, a pinnacle event in the North American film industry, commenced at the Hollywood and Highland Center.

Thanks to preceding media controversies, this year's Oscars attracted unprecedented attention.

As the red carpet unfurled, ABC's ratings nearly matched last year's peak during the Best Supporting Actress segment.

These statistics piqued the interest of Academy chairman Tom Sherak, prompting him to ponder potential innovations for future ceremonies.

In an era saturated with entertainment options, stirring up trouble seemed essential to capture public interest.

Amidst the frenzy, Martin crossed paths with his girlfriend, Elizabeth Olsen, eliciting thunderous cheers from fans.

Observing the spectacle, an audacious idea struck Tom Sherak: why not enlist Hollywood's enfant terribles—Martin, Leonardo, and Nicholson—as planners or directors for next year's Oscars?

Approaching Vice Chairman Kathleen Kennedy, Tom shared his notion, seeking her perspective. "You've collaborated with Martin and the others. What's your take?"

Recalling their work on "Benjamin Button," Kathleen attested to the trio's flair. "With those three involved, the theater might implode, and the audience might go wild."

Tom Sherak weighed the rumors surrounding the trio, torn between sensationalism and propriety, ultimately opting for the latter—the Oscars were, after all, the Academy's public face.

In the media area, Melissa from ABC approached Martin with a prediction: "You're the top contender for Best Actor tonight."

"Will you clinch the Best Actor award?" she prodded. "Any predictions?"

Martin, notorious for his enigmatic responses, replied, "I'll let you know in three hours."

Seeing Martin's reticence, Melissa redirected her query to Elizabeth, inquiring about post-Oscar celebration plans.

Elizabeth, mindful of maintaining decorum, deflected, "We'll discuss that after the results."

As Johnny Depp and Amber Heard stole the spotlight, abandoning Martin and Elizabeth, Melissa noted the couple's topical allure.

Depp's eyes lit up upon spotting Martin, a surge of energy coursing through him as he indulged in his vice.

Poisonous insects, driven by their impulsive nature, often act erratically, their corroded brain circuits a far cry from those of ordinary individuals. Depp, his temper flaring, instinctively reached for his belt, contemplating another confrontation.

Observing his agitation, Amber pondered, "Should I intervene and appease Depp?" Despite her own unreliability, Megan Ellison's words echoed in her mind, urging caution: "This is the Oscars!"

Thankfully, Depp's loyal bodyguard, stationed nearby, recognized the signs of impending outburst and swiftly intervened, ushering them away from the cameras and into the media area, with Amber flanking Depp on either side.

Sensing the tension dissipate, they withdrew from the limelight.

Meanwhile, Elizabeth looped her arm through Martin's, casting a glance back at the Depps' departure.

Aware of the poisonous insect's antics, she seethed, "I could just hit someone."

Martin, catching her gaze, reassured, "Just wait a bit longer. You'll see something worth the show."

He had reliable sources keeping him abreast of Depp's exploits.

Depp's financial maneuvers, orchestrated by his cunning investment manager, were a spectacle in themselves, with his accountant brother overseeing the financial brinksmanship—a dynamic akin to battling tigers.

As Martin and Elizabeth settled into their seats at the front row, they noticed Leonardo and Nicholson sneaking into the adjacent seats, their presence unexpected.

Assisting Elizabeth with her dress, Martin exchanged a glance with Leonardo. "I didn't expect you to show up."

Leonardo retorted, "Why wouldn't I? We've poured months of effort into this. We've got to witness the outcome firsthand."

Nicholson interjected, "Let's not forget whose plan salvaged the situation after your failed attempt. It was Martin and me who steered us to victory."

Admitting defeat, Leonardo seethed, "Fine, my scheme to capitalize on misfortune flopped. But what does your plan to make matters worse have to do with it?"

Nicholson, shamelessly deflecting, quipped, "I provided the motivation. 'Come on,' I said."

Leonardo, dumbfounded by Nicholson's audacity, marveled at the shamelessness before him.

Elizabeth couldn't overlook Leonardo's dubious tactics, despite his role in securing Martin's victory. His erratic strategies for clinching awards left her wary.

Martin, exasperated by his two eccentric companions, begrudgingly tolerated their presence. Yet, he understood that sand sculpture teammates not only observed your triumphs but also dragged you down to their level.

As Leonardo scrolled through Twitter, he couldn't resist a jab. "What's Depp plotting? Planning to urinate on you on the red carpet?"

Nicholson chimed in with a smirk, "I've got a stash of fireworks handy."

Martin, ever the diplomat, quipped, "If we win tonight, we'll extend an olive branch to Depp. If we lose, well, he'll bear the brunt of our frustration."

Suddenly struck by a realization, Martin inquired, "Aren't you two scheduled to present an award?"

Leonardo shook his head. "The Academy didn't assign us to present Best Actor."

Nicholson explained further, "Last year, it was just you and me presenting Leo with the award. Even if you win this year, they won't repeat it. It's standard protocol, plus Natalie Portman's here for the ceremony."

In the adjacent row, Johnny Depp and Amber Heard settled in, their gaze drawn to the "The Martian" crew across the aisle.

Martin acknowledged Depp with a polite smile and nod, followed by Elizabeth's courteous gesture.

Observing Elizabeth's smile, Amber perceived a hint of icy determination beneath her warmth, akin to that of a lioness.

Contemplating Martin, Amber drew a parallel—he was akin to a lion, commanding his pride, surrounded by lionesses. Though she didn't hold the same animosity toward Depp, she couldn't tolerate Martin's dominance.

Reflecting on nature's order, Amber muttered to herself, "No matter how mighty the male lions are now, when they grow old and feeble, the lionesses won't just bite their eggs—they'll rebel!"

Suddenly, Amber's attention was diverted by frantic chanting nearby: "Martin Davis will not win! Martin Davis will not win..."

Depp clutched a cross, seemingly in fervent prayer.

As the Oscars ceremony loomed, Matt Damon sat on the sofa beside his wife, quietly observing the live TV broadcast.

Luciana sensed her husband's tension. "You've partnered with Steven Soderbergh again, and there will be more opportunities in the future."

Matt offered a simple smile. "I'm alright."

Luciana knew Matt hadn't given up hope yet. His willingness to watch the ceremony, despite not being directly involved, spoke volumes.

"I'll fetch some beer, and we can enjoy the show," Luciana announced, rising from the sofa and heading to the bar.

As Luciana departed, Matt's smile vanished. Though he'd kept a low profile since his release from state prison, he harbored a fervent desire—not to see Martin claim the Best Actor award.

Sitting there, Matt sought solace in the slim possibility of an unexpected outcome, relishing the prospect of witnessing Martin's disappointment if he failed to secure the coveted statuette.

Meanwhile, at the Coca-Cola Cult headquarters on Peachtree Street in Atlanta, Robert, adorned in a red cape, performed a ceremonial ritual with a vintage Coca-Cola bottle, invoking divine favor for Martin's victory.

As the chants resounded, the cult members, led by their high priestess Elena Carter, fervently proclaimed their leader's imminent triumph.

In Beverly Hills, at Davis Manor, Lily, meticulously attired, sat alone in contemplation, her gaze fixed on the live broadcast. A small carving knife danced between her fingers as she fervently declared, "Martin must win the Best Actor award!"

Though Elizabeth's promise of a celebratory gift might seem unconventional, Lily yearned to fulfill that role—a desire she'd harbored for years.