King of Hollywood
Chapter 505 - 226 This is Actually Not My Work

Chapter 505: Chapter 226 This is Actually Not My Work

The film began with an inexplicable atmosphere right from the start, especially with the dizzying opening credits which stirred a low hum of discussion in the otherwise quiet theater. Despite everyone knowing that the Miracle Director’s style was varied, such a random and even somewhat baffling opening was a first. How did such a joyful dance even resemble a crime thriller?

The murmurs quickly dissipated, just as mentioned before, the Miracle Director’s style was varied, and if he chose to start the film this way, it was his prerogative. Soon, the movie officially began with Naomi playing Rita/Betty being coerced and then getting into a car accident. She stumbled out of the car and down a steep slope, finally collapsing in the bushes outside a house.

Naomi’s red hair with golden highlights didn’t quite suit her after it was dyed black, so Adrian had the stylist darken her hair color to a deep brown. This achieved the desired effect without diminishing her beauty. Coupled with her frustration from her divorce case and being played by Adrian, she captured the bewildered and disoriented feeling of Rita/Betty very well, making one can’t help but want to protect her. In the theater—or rather, in the back rows—a few tsk sounds emerged as soon as the female lead, with her arms hugged, collapsed on the ground.

The sound was fleeting and soft, but Naomi heard it very clearly. That was the advantage of sitting in the back row. Yet her expression did not change, her gaze remained fixed on the screen, wholeheartedly waiting for the audience’s verdict after the film. Even so, she cast a glance at Adrian sitting beside her from the corner of her eye; he was sitting upright, also intently looking at the screen.

She couldn’t help but think back to the matter from the afternoon. She had only said those words because she didn’t want to be at a disadvantage, and she regretted them as soon as they left her mouth. Given Adrian’s character, how could he not take a stance and make her play along? So would she play along or not? Unexpectedly, he just laughed it off without bringing it up again, leaving her with a sense of hitting at air.

The damn guy. Despite often cursing him internally, she always sighed afterwards. She couldn’t see through this man; whenever she thought she had anticipated his next move, he would always surprise her. For a woman like Naomi, especially after nearly a decade of an almost fruitless marriage, she hated this feeling and also sensed the danger.

"Just wait and see, no need to rush," Naomi told herself in the end—that was all she could say—and returned her attention to the screen.

By this point, the story had split into two threads. One involved gang characters meddling with a film company’s production, insisting that a well-known director must cast a certain actress as the lead and using the company executives’ tension to portray the terror of these outsiders. The other thread followed Naomi playing Betty/Diane, who had arrived in Hollywood from Canada, settled in her aunt and uncle’s room, and found the amnesiac Rita/Betty who had escaped to this room after waking from her coma.

Naomi’s entrance—dressed in a pink silk jacket, a fitted tee with ankle-baring trousers, and her golden medium-length hair—perfectly showcased her beautiful appearance. Her face was always smiling, her eyes sparkling. This naive image of someone just breaking into Hollywood and curious about everything, combined with the dazzling sunlight, left a deep impression.

Up to here, the plot still had some coherence, despite being interspersed with many nonsensical scenes like a guy chatting with his buddy about dreams in a café, then getting knocked out by a ghost-like vagrant outside; or the bumbling assassin’s act, who could have stopped after killing one but ended up killing three for various bizarre reasons, ultimately causing a fire alarm—this sequence elicited much laughter.

But this coherence quickly became fragmented, and the mystery grew like a rolling snowball, getting bigger without offering any clues to a resolution. Just what kind of woman was Rita? Why did someone want to kill her? Why were there huge sums of cash in her bag? Why did the gang insist that this girl be the lead in the director’s film and go out of their way to make the director submit? What was the connection between the two?

Even more puzzling was when Betty had Rita read lines with her; despite the script being full of murderous intent, with the leading lady threatening to kill her lover if he left, why did it turn into a poignant and tender love scene during the audition? This change was incomprehensible. And then, at this moment, more thrilling scenes arrived—Betty accompanied Rita to a house she remembered, and after opening a window to get inside, they found a decomposing female corpse!

A low murmur of people drawing in breath filled the hall, and just before that, someone had complained in a hushed tone that they didn’t understand what the film was trying to convey.

Nicole shook her head and cast her eyes downward, not liking this particular scene. It wasn’t thrilling, but it was somewhat disgusting. It was at that moment she felt a warm touch on her thigh, a hand resting on it through the thin fabric of her evening gown.

Without needing to guess, she knew whose it was. Annoyed, she bit her lip and immediately tightened her legs together. But this did not deter him; soon, the hand slipped deeper through the high slit of her gown and began the most direct contact. Though she clenched her thighs, unable to push in further, the kneading on her thigh still caused her entire body to feel a sour numbness.

The bastard! The pervert! Nicole cursed in her heart, her breathing growing just as rapid, yet she had a fleeting realization that this was eerily similar to a past incident... It must have been... last year, yes, early last year at the premiere of "Eyes Wide Shut." Back then she was still Mrs. Cruise, and in that box, after Tom had left, he did this in front of his secretary as well!

The images of that day suddenly flooded her mind, causing her body to heat up slightly under the tingling sensation, and her legs relaxed a bit, allowing his hand to probe even deeper. If he dared to do those things to her back then, what would stop him now? Although the last few rows were reserved for the "Mulholland Drive" crew, besides the three of them, there was hardly anyone else in the very last row.

At that moment, suggestive music came through the speakers, and the plot on the screen had advanced to that scene, the bed scene between Naomi and Nicole. The two women were rolling around, kissing and entangling with smiles on their faces, seemingly never having been more pleased. Under Adrian’s editing, what was actually revealed wasn’t much, with the most crucial parts hidden, but it still gave a palpable sense of excitement, and soft gasps could be heard throughout the hall.

Despite the erotic thrill taking place in the last row of the hall, no one noticed; they were all deep in thought about the plot. If one could somewhat follow the clues in the first forty minutes, after the bed scene, everything previously shown was completely upended—Betty became Diane, and Rita became Betty. They seemed still to be a couple, and the director, who was previously hounded by the gangsters, now turned out to be a powerful figure, seducing Betty. Characters who had appeared earlier were taking the stage again, but with roles completely different from before.

If this were a film by some unknown director, people would probably have been cursing by now, but this film happened to come from the hands of the Miracle Director. So, surely there must be some deeper meaning arranged within it; he wouldn’t have made a senseless film just to fool everyone. Moreover, ever since he began directing films, his works like "Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels" and "Pulp Fiction" have featured non-linear storytelling. If it’s incomprehensible, surely it’s because we’ve missed something.

It must be said, being famous, being hugely famous has its advantages. As the saying goes, the same foolish act is foolish when done by a nobody, but becomes an anecdote when it’s a celebrity who does it. Adrian’s reputation precedes him; even if he truly made a mess of a film, people would find ways to contrive rational explanations.

The plot went on, and finally, some clues seem to be emerging. The woman who was Betty but now called Diane, and the one who was Rita but now called Betty, were a same-sex couple. Now, the one called Betty, having been favored by the director, was rocketed to stardom, and naturally, she fell into the director’s arms, even announcing their engagement at a party still in progress.

And the abandoned woman, who was once called Betty and now Diane, washed her face with tears all day and even masturbated while sobbing, reminiscing about Betty. This scene immediately elicited many low chuckles. For the two women, who were absorbed in their own matters, this was a strong stimulus, especially Nicole, whose nose was covered with tiny beads of sweat and eyes shimmered with intense desire, biting her lips and pressing Adrian’s hand deeper.

Thereafter, because of Betty, Diane, who had attended the party, could no longer restrain herself upon hearing the news of their engagement. She found an assassin right there in the café and asked him to kill Betty. The assassin agreed, handed her a small blue key, and told her that she would be informed about the place to retrieve a small blue box that could be opened with the key, which would contain something that proved Betty was dead.

However, when Diane received the small box from a ghostly-looking vagabond and hesitantly opened it at home, her aunt and uncle leaped out from the box, laughing maniacally and clawing at her. The collapsing Diane retreated to her bedroom, unable to withstand such pressure, and drew a handgun from the drawer. She fired it into her mouth, and with a bang, Diane was no more, her posture exactly like that of the rotting female corpse in the first half.

Finally, the scene shifted to the point in the story where the narrative had broken off, with Betty, still as Rita, and Diane, still as Betty, going to that club where the female singer was still singing in Spanish, sad and haunting.

The film ended there, with the credits slowly rising. In the pitch-black hall, there was nothing but the score, not a single clap. This was rather impolite unless the film was so bad that no one wanted to watch it. Applause, where due, should be given.

But was that the reason why Adrian received no applause? Of course not! After only about ten seconds, the first round of applause came, followed by others. Even though the film was incomprehensible, the clues were evident. The Miracle Director must have arranged it that way, letting the audience muse over it themselves. He couldn’t possibly have made a bad film, could he?

As the credits rolled on, more and more people subscribed to this view, and the applause inevitably grew more enthusiastic, making someone increasingly nervous. Desire had taken over Nicole’s mind under Adrian’s manipulation, yet she still retained a measure of clarity as this was in a theater.

Finally, the lights came on, and those accustomed to the dark squinted against the sudden brightness, but the light was not strong, so this adjustment didn’t last long. People began searching for Adrian and quickly located him alone in the back row, leisurely wiping his hands.

Soon a film critic approached with an extended hand: "Hello, Mr. Adrian, I am Jacques Reiman, I have a column with Le Figaro. You’ve made a very interesting movie."

Despite his thick accent, Adrian understood perfectly, but he did not intend to reply in French, knowing that the others would soon swarm. It wouldn’t be fitting to answer them in other languages, would it?

"Sorry, Mr. Reiman, I’ve spilled some drink on my hands," Adrian said, holding up the tissue in his hand.

Reiman smiled and withdrew his hand, about to speak when an Italian accent cut in: "May we now discuss your thoughts about this film, Mr. Adrian?"

Looking at the badge on his chest, it was evident that this was a reporter from Italy.

"Please, don’t rush; let’s first step outside before we discuss," Adrian suggested with a smile, gesturing and then striding toward the exit.

Jacques Reiman glared at the Italian reporter, who seemed not to notice and followed Adrian as well, and seeing that scouting the territory was successful, others followed suit. Directors and producers who had wanted to greet the Miracle Director and talk about his peculiar film abandoned the plan. After all, there would be other opportunities.

By the time Adrian reached the cinema’s entrance, reporters surrounded him again, with even more accumulated questions waiting.

"Don’t you think there’s not the slightest coherence in the logic of your film, Mr. Adrian?"

"What are you attempting to convey in this film, Mr. Adrian? The despair from a lover’s betrayal, or the dark underbelly of Hollywood in that era?"

"We’ve observed that while the two narratives are entirely different, they are intricately connected. What exactly are you trying to express, Mr. Adrian?"

"By splitting the story so starkly into two parts, and with the beginning and end reversed, is it..."

"Do you consider your work..."

Adrian kept a smile on his face confronting these endless questions, and once he had stepped out to the theater entrance where The Bodyguard created a barrier between him and the reporters, he gave a vague response: "As for what this film is specifically about, that should be up to the audience. This film doesn’t have a standard answer, just as there are a thousand Hamlets for a thousand people. Why not use your own intelligence to search for the answers you want? I understand many may still have doubts. Although my works vary in style, I have never done a movie like ’Mulholland Drive.’ So, let me give a little hint here..."

He glanced at the crowd craning their necks for an answer, then flashed a mischievously playful smile: "Actually, this is not my work. It’s David Lynch’s." (To be continued. If you like this work, welcome to recommend tickets and monthly tickets on qidian.com, your support is my greatest motivation.)