Chapter 886: Chapter 292: So-Called Art
“I just tell stories,” Adrian repeated once again, “To me, when the audience, after a day’s work, steps into the cinema and can completely relax while watching my story, feeling sorrow, joy, and excitement for the characters, that’s the best reward for me. Of course, if after the story ends, they gain some insight into life and family, that would be perfect.”
“It seems you prefer optimistic and uplifting films, rather than those unbearable tragedies.” DeGeneres said, looking as though she had an epiphany.
“No no no, Ellen,” Adrian laughed, truly worthy of being one of the best talk show hosts, skilled at guiding the conversation in the direction he wanted, “No matter what kind of movie it is, as long as it has a good story that resonates with the audience, it’s a good film. However, from a personal perspective, I hope that no matter how cruel and painful a tragic story is, there should always be a glimmer of hope at the end.”
“Why?” DeGeneres was quite surprised.
“Because it’s a film.” Adrian spread his hands.
“If I need to understand the harshness of reality, there are plenty of documentaries and a wealth of information to look at. If I want to change these things, I can donate, I can volunteer, and the effects of those actions far exceed those of a film,” he quickly continued, “Never forget the primary attribute of film, never forget that only hope can lead people forward!”
Adrian sat up straight: “This is why I feel European cinema is dead; their films either become mere fragments of life on display, and they’ve forgotten the original purpose of films. More people are making suffocating films just to gain fame, just to please themselves, even at the expense of challenging societal boundaries. A few years ago, I saw a screenplay—here I’d like to first apologize to that young screenwriter, though I don’t know where he is now, I was indeed a bit too severe back then.”
“Ha, to make you apologize so solemnly, the script must be quite good, and there must have been… quite intense conflict between you?” DeGeneres asked with great interest.
“It was indeed a very good script, a story about drugs destroying a family. A young couple and his friend deeply addicted to drugs, their mother also dependent on prescriptions, trying to escape it all and find a new life, but no matter how they struggle, it’s futile. The mother ends up in a mental hospital, the protagonist and his friend jailed and amputated, while the female lead resorts to selling her body for drugs.” Adrian briefly introduced, “With appropriate modifications, it would certainly be an outstanding film, but the problem lies in two aspects. First, I insisted that no matter what, there must be a bit of hope at the end; second, the failure in the protagonists’ attempts at a new life, like opening a clothing store or something else, was due to… coincidence.”
“Coincidence?” DeGeneres furrowed her brows, soon grasping his meaning, “You mean, those failures causing them to relapse into drug use, were portrayed as coincidences rather than consequences of drug use itself?”
“Exactly,” Adrian nodded forcefully, “Initially, it doesn’t feel significant, but eventually, such coincidences become overwhelming, thus making the whole narrative exhibit a very obvious, very deliberate theme of destruction due to drug use.”
“I guess the other party didn’t agree to modifications.” DeGeneres laughed.
“Of course, I raised more than a dozen issues, and without any deliberation, was outright rejected,” Adrian shrugged, “Very individualistic, isn’t it? Actually, he wasn’t too bad; some European directors demand others cater entirely to their self-centered perspectives, believing if any issues arise, it’s not them at fault but the world.”
“I bet you’re not talking about Lars von Trier.” DeGeneres laughed mischievously.
“Certainly not. I am friends with many European directors, like Luc Besson, Giuseppe Tornatore, and I also respect Mr. Bertolucci, even though I dislike his style.” Adrian shrugged, “But as for some directors, those who only take and never give, never having considered social responsibility…” Here he abruptly raised his hand, “I know what you’re going to say, Ellen, let’s use an example.”
His gaze grew profound: “Now, there’s a script, there’s a girl, she is misfortunate, raped by her stepfather since childhood, and her mother is too weak to protect her. After finally escaping, she wanders around. She undergoes many hardships, has tried many things to rise but keeps being played by fate, and the cold society keeps all doors closed to her. Then, after one more sordid occasion of selling herself, she finally loses the will to live, ultimately running into an oncoming truck one cold rainy night. Do you think if I shoot it, would it become a powerful film inducing great social reflection?”
“That’s undoubtedly true.” DeGeneres cautiously replied, instinctively sensing something amiss.
“Good, so the film is now made and released, receiving tremendous acclaim, provoking society’s introspection,” a strange smile appeared on Adrian’s lips, “And now, there’s a girl, unfortunately, her cowardly mother couldn’t protect her, raped by her stepfather very young, enduring till she’s 16, escaping that home only to wander society. She encounters many bad people and many good ones, but always remains on society’s fringes, unloved, unvalued. Then, after repeated disappointments, on a cold rainy night, feeling hopeless, not knowing what else she can do, she spends her last few U.S. Dollars watching a movie by her favorite director, who has recently released a socially critical work, widely acclaimed.”
He paused here; DeGeneres’s expression turned somewhat unpleasant, and the audience fell silent.
“What I want to know is, after watching the movie, what action she might take.” Adrian’s lips curled slightly, appearing both cruel and mocking.
“No no no,” DeGeneres shook her head emphatically, “This example is too extreme.”
“With great power comes great responsibility,” Adrian didn’t argue with her, “For many, especially those who consider themselves above all others, this is just a comic book line, but I know some things ultimately need to be done. I am capricious, I have many flaws, but I know what I should do and what I can do. Let them pursue what they call art, I just need to help others as much as I can, I disdain to associate with these people! Even Michael Bay is far better than them.”
The moment this was said again, it carried a different weight, and before DeGeneres could speak, applause erupted from the audience.
“It seems everyone supports you.” She could only conclude with a smile.
“Thank you, now here, finally, let me say my definition of art.” Adrian smiled, finally changing the subject, and gestured to the staff backstage, requesting a bottle of water and a cup.
“This is life,” he raised the cup, shaking it slightly, then opened the water bottle and began pouring into it, “This is accumulation.”
The water soon filled the cup.
“When people accumulate to a certain point…”
The cup finally overflowed, and the water streamed down the sides onto the table, prompting a low exclamation from DeGeneres.
“It will overflow,” Adrian said, unfazed, “The overflowed part, most of it is useless stuff, at least the water in the cup can still be drunk.”
He stopped pouring, gestured to the water droplets on the table, and then to the liquid within the cup.
“And here, you see, because of the surface tension of the water, the edges are raised,” he said, lowering his head to level his gaze with the rim of the cup, “only after countless accumulations, after being tempered a thousand times, after the waves wash away the sands, what remains is art! It is noble, it is rare, it is elusive, it is heart-shaking, and only by reaching out in a flash of inspiration can you grasp the slightest hint of the true ultimate in beauty!”
“In that case,” DeGeneres finally spoke up with a smile after a long while, “I know the shortcut to making a real art film, and that is to honestly tell a hundred stories in different styles.”
Adrian burst into laughter.
The entire talk show nearly ended here, and afterward, both sides of the Atlantic fell silent on the topic again. Europe initially wanted to make a fuss about the phrase “ashamed to be associated,” but Adrian had already clarified the target of the remark in the show, leaving them with the feeling of punching into cotton.
However, what’s more important is what made them even more unbearable was the sudden realization that they were losing their voice in art. Adrian ended with an example of pouring water to explain art, which, although still a bit raw, was lively, vivid, simple and clear. The vast majority of ordinary people would not delve into what constitutes art, but if someone could explain it in terms they could understand, they would certainly be willing to accept it.
If it were anyone else saying these things, it would still be fine, but when it comes to Adrian, it’s different. Never mind his headache-inducing achievements, the mere fact that he practices what he preaches is enough to give European filmmakers a headache. DeGeneres’s last teasing words are almost his current portrayal—how many films has he made in a decade? What genres do these films encompass?
The perfect synchronization forced Europeans to lament in their hearts, why did such a freak appear in Hollywood? Even if someone publicly states that the Miracle Director’s views on art are too shallow, or that the Miracle Director is too arrogant, it means nothing. Adrian said from the beginning, “I’m just a storyteller.”
Therefore, even though many in the United States do not quite acknowledge Adrian’s remarks on the talk show, they still side with him after being speechless. How can they pass up such a rare opportunity to potentially trample Europeans underfoot? Moreover, his remarks aligned with the needs of mainstream society, combined with the momentum stirred by “The Pianist,” some astute minds already had a vague sense of his intentions.
“So what? Can they stop me? I’ve been preparing for this day for so long.” Standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, basking in the sunlight, Adrian nonchalantly spoke into the phone.
Indeed, not to mention that even before 9/11, he had separated his own charity fund, and those used as trademarks must have transparent accounts to withstand any checks. Later, while the Red Cross was scandalized post-9/11, he seized the moment to boost the already good reputation of his charity fund, further intensifying supervision. Therefore, these charity funds that can withstand the light are essentially impeccable now, allowing him to promote them grandly at salons.
As for the charity plan of donating half or even more of his wealth with Gates and Buffett, that was incidental. After Claude’s wedding, he accompanied his uncle back to New York and stayed for three days, coincidentally meeting these two at a party in New York. After chatting briefly, Adrian figured certain things were bound to happen, thus steering the conversation this way. Despite having only a nodding acquaintance with Gates, he struck a preliminary deal smoothly due to his familiarity with Buffett thanks to his uncle.
Of course, this preliminary agreement is somewhat rudimentary. Even after exchanging opinions over the phone, it’s still far from a formal draft. But this doesn’t stop Adrian from using it at salons to impress and bolster his image anyway, since he is determined to join this, and the daughters don’t need such an enormous fortune. Leaving part of it will be enough; if they wish to start a business, there are so many connections readily available.
Besides, everyone understands what charity foundations really are, even at the level of Gates, Buffett, and Adrian—as long as they indeed serve some charitable function, it’s fine.
“If you’re too careless, problems can easily arise.” An indifferent voice from Ivanka came from the other end.
“I know… Alright, I’ll leave it to you then, make sure to keep an eye on them for me, Innie.” Adrian considered it before acknowledging her advice obediently.
“I knew it.” Ivanka snorted lightly, “Well, but the final decision must be yours. I’ll send you relevant information as soon as possible. By the way, how do you plan to respond to Miss Kournikova?”
“Did she call the office? I remember ESPN’s new issue agreed to invite her on the cover and do an exclusive interview.” Adrian was slightly surprised.
“Yes, but she evidently hopes to keep in touch with you more,” Ivanka’s tone shifted here, “Frankly, your taste is getting stranger, Ed, what’s so amusing about that Slavic woman?”
“She’s a tennis player,” Adrian laughed, by now Ivanka, just like Charlize in the past, could say anything, “Let me think, secretary, actress, singer, director, producer, host, gymnast, occasionally having a change of taste isn’t bad—even if it’s just a change. Politely decline her for me, please.”
“You bastard.” Ivanka immediately hung up in a seething rage.
Adrian couldn’t help but smile slightly at her temper, seemingly another younger tennis beauty had to be put on hold. Initially, she was the target, but after Anna Kournikova withdrew from the Wimbledon Championships last year due to injuries, she might have realized that her sports career is starting to decline. Therefore, over the past year, she has been frantically self-commercializing.
And although ESPN’s sports magazine couldn’t rival “Sports Illustrated” upon release, with AC Media’s support and ESPN’s influence, it established considerable recognition, drawing Kournikova’s agent to seek a contract. It happened that around then, Adrian returned from Cannes, so he subtly indicated an interest in chatting with Miss Kournikova. Better act before it gets stale.
What followed was a piece of cake. So what if she had a boyfriend? For Kournikova, whose focus was on earning as much as possible, it’s merely a matter of a check. Of course, Adrian wasn’t overt, hardly ever is, and hinted at secrecy in the deal. Thus, receiving a high-quality return from the tennis beauty—like playing together on his home court and then, well, escalating things.
She seemed to enjoy it quite a lot, otherwise, she wouldn’t have called for another appointment. Or, well, maybe she had another agenda too, but he wasn’t really interested. Who knows how the other younger tennis beauty will react by then? If he could handle the two Williams sisters solo, that’d be more intriguing.
After all, a Playboy is a Playboy, indulging in flirtations even during significant planning. Apart from Kournikova, there was yet another, indicating he also needed to add ‘lawyer’ to the professional list.
“Hi, Ed, I heard your voice from the door, who was the call to?” A warm body embraced him from behind, and a pair of hands roamed unapologetically from his pectorals down to his legs.
“Josephine.” Adrian inhaled sharply and called out the woman’s name.
“Who told you to stand here without any clothes on.” A typically Nordic female face appeared before his eyes, with golden straight hair and azure eyes that made her look sexy and striking, “You still haven’t answered, who was the call to.”
“My secretary—you should have met her—handling some work matters, are you satisfied?” Adrian blinked then frowned, “Are you really going to continue? Aren’t you afraid I’ll, hmm?”
Josephine smiled brightly without saying a word, teasingly licking her lips and intensifying her hand movements. She’s Josephine Nordgreen, and while the name is quite ordinary, it’s different if you mention her sister. She has a twin sister named Erin Nordgreen, and her sister’s husband, well, is Tiger Woods. (To be continued. If you enjoy this work, you’re welcome to visit Qidian () to vote for recommendations and monthly votes; your support is my greatest motivation.)