Pink Storm

"A sword should be gifted to a hero. I don't like Elvis, and since I happen to have his album on hand, giving it to you is the best choice. If you still feel bad about it, you can put in a good word for me with the boss and squeeze me into her next film. That would be the best reward for me, and I'd be grateful."

Britney burst into laughter, collapsing into Irene's arms.

"If you listen to me and take an acting class, I'll find you something to do in the second half of the year." Although there weren't any prominent male roles in the new film, it was better suited for an actor like Edward, whose acting skills were currently at zero.

"Boss, you really have a new plan?" Edward's eyes lit up.

"Shh, it's just a plan for now. Keep it a secret."

Edward quickly covered his mouth: "I'll definitely keep it a secret!"

"Whoosh." The cinema lights suddenly cut out, images began to appear on the screen, and the MGM lion roared once more.

Hall Carter was a low-profile film critic for The Washington Post. As the movie began, he looked around and saw that the theater was quite full. Aside from his peers, most of the audience were young people. Thinking back to the cheers from earlier, these youngsters were likely here for Britney Spears rather than the film itself.

Most of his colleagues had chosen Eyes Wide Shut, and there were already too many people writing reviews for it. With the attitude that no one would read his work anyway, he decided to take a different path and chose Legally Blonde, hoping to find something worthwhile here.

The opening of the film flashed by quickly, and he braced himself to focus on the movie.

As the plot progressed, he began to scribble in his notebook.

Simple shots, a perfectly timed soundtrack, a lighthearted tone, infectious performances, and a smooth, sincere plot—all of this effortlessly piqued the audience's interest.

Soon, he heard the natural laughter of the audience; being drawn into the movie was as simple as breathing.

The only drawback was that the film was perhaps too simple, but considering it came from a rookie director, it was hard to be too critical.

However, a simple plot had its advantages. Besides attracting a large crowd of teenagers, it should also dispel the rumors that Francis Coppola had directed the film for his daughter. After all, anyone in the industry could see the raw, unpolished quality in the shots, which was something an old hand like Francis would never produce.

The final shot of the film froze on that bright, pink figure. This shot was the essence of the entire film; he could even give it a 90.

"Clap..." As the film ended, the theater erupted in loud applause.

"Elle is so amazing. I really want to be like her."

A girl's exclamation reached Hall Carter from behind. He quickly noted in his notebook: "Audience engagement: 9 points."

By the time he gathered his belongings and walked out of the theater, he could still hear the audience praising the film; there were basically no negative comments.

He checked his watch and walked quickly to his car parked on the side of the road. There was still an hour before the screening of Eyes Wide Shut ended, which was enough time for him to write a decent review. This time, he might actually be able to make a comeback.

Irene walked out with everyone else. She was prepared to head straight home, but Edward invited everyone to a nightclub to celebrate the successful premiere of their first film.

She was truly exhausted today and only wanted to go back, take a bath, and sleep, so she declined.

Britney, however, was full of energy and expressed her desire to go. Irene couldn't refuse her outright, so she could only strongly urge Edward to take good care of Britney, avoid shady places, not drink in public, and maintain Britney's image at all costs.

Edward promised to complete the mission and left with a large group of people, driving the same sports car he had lent to the crew—it was incredibly flashy.

Irene didn't pay attention to the others and got into her car, signaling the driver to take her home, leaving her own father behind.

When Francis finished his business and wanted to go home, he couldn't find his car anywhere.

"I'll take you home, Mr. Coppola. I happen to have some other questions I'd like to ask you." Joyce Jackson, the head of film selection at MGM, stepped forward. She had been delayed for so long because she was discussing follow-up promotion and expansion plans with him.

Francis gave a noncommittal, faint smile. He looked at George Lucas not far away and said, "Thank you for your kindness, Ms. Jackson, but I'll go back with Lucas. It's the same. This collaboration has been very pleasant, and I look forward to great results tomorrow." With that, he turned and left.

Joyce didn't stop him, only smiling as she watched Francis leave. In reality, she had wanted to talk to George Lucas about Star Wars today, but the man kept changing the subject—he was as slippery as an eel. In desperation, she had tried to go through Francis Coppola, only to be shut out there as well. These old ghosts were truly difficult to deal with.

After a while, the screening of Eyes Wide Shut also ended. Jessie and several companions walked out. When they reached the entrance, they could be seen yawning, looking extremely drowsy.

"I told you Tom Cruise is a poker face. He's fine in action movies, but as soon as he plays a deep, brooding character, I just want to doze off," one of her companions couldn't help but complain.

"But the visuals were beautiful. Tom was handsome, Nicole was gorgeous. It's just a shame the plot couldn't be shorter; 150 minutes is really tiring to watch," another companion offered a different perspective.

"Forget it. It's very late, I'll take you all home first. We can discuss anything else tomorrow." Jessie led everyone to the car in a hurry.

She opened the car window, enjoying the coolness of the night breeze, which blew away the stuffy air from the theater. She could vaguely hear others commenting on the film as boring, confusing, and absurd.

A new day arrived, and the sunlight filtered through the glass, refracting into dreamy, iridescent colors in the air.

Irene squinted, reaching toward the nightstand, and touched a glass that was still warm. As the water slid down her throat, she felt as if she heard someone reciting poetry. Who was in such a good mood so early in the morning?

After a simple wash, Irene changed her clothes and went downstairs, only to see her agent sitting at the dining table eating breakfast. "Good morning, Shelly. Why are you here so early today?"

"Forgive my intrusion, but I wanted to be the first to share everyone's reviews of Legally Blonde with you." Shelly quickly finished the sandwich on his plate. Beside the plate lay the briefcase he had brought, which was already open, and the newspaper inside was now in Francis's hands.

Before Irene could even ask, her father handed her the newspaper. His expression was relaxed and natural; it was impossible to tell if the reviews were good or bad.