The Best Movie Actor In Hollywood!

Chapter 507

"Do you think Matthew's a racist?"

Inside a slightly run-down house in Westwood, Brian Lister lowered the newspaper in his hand and asked a young black man his age, "Do you believe what they're writing in the papers?"

Without a moment's hesitation, the young man shook his head. "No."

He was absolutely certain. "It's all rumors."

"Exactly! They're just rumors!"

"That's just Spike's bullshit!"

"How could Matthew..."

A murmur of voices filled the house—men and women, black and white—all of them certain the stories were just rumors.

Brian nodded and turned to the black man. "Thompson, I remember that fan meet-up where Matthew hugged you and took a picture with you, right?"

"Yeah," the young man named Thompson replied immediately. "He didn't just take a picture, he even gave me his autograph."He pulled out his wallet. "I carry the photos with me everywhere."

"Let me see." Thompson handed him the photos. After a quick look, Brian addressed the group, his voice rising with conviction. "Friends, someone is slandering Matthew, and we can't just sit back and do nothing. I want to collect all the photos and videos we have of Matthew with us and send them to his agency to help clear his name."

"Yeah!" Thompson shouted in agreement.

"I've got pictures!"

"I have some at home, too!"

The room buzzed with activity, particularly from the black fans. Some asked Brian to wait while they rushed home to grab their own pictures. Several others already had videos on hand, clips of Matthew interacting with fans at various promotional events over the past few years.

They even had videos of Matthew interacting specifically with his black fans over the years.

Brian even got his hands on a video from a photographer in the Westwood fan group, one showing Matthew visiting a young black child with leukemia.

"Nice." Brian looked over the materials and nodded. "This is very good."

Just then, a man approached him. "Brian," he asked, "I heard there are some black people protesting outside Matthew's house. Should we go there and show our support?"

Some of the guys in the back overheard him and chimed in, "Yeah, why don't we all go together!"

"Yeah! I can't just stand by while they slander Matthew!"

"Let's go over there and give them a piece of our minds!"

Brian quickly waved his hand. "No, don't."

He raised his voice, cautioning them, "We need to wait a few days. This will all be cleared up soon."

****

In Chicago, at the studios owned by Harper Productions, Helen made her way down a long corridor. Halfway, she encountered Oprah heading to get her makeup done. Helen offered a calm greeting, they shared a smile and exchanged a few words, and then she continued unhurriedly toward Matthew's dressing room, knocking gently on the door.

"Come in."

Matthew's voice came from inside. Helen pushed the door open and entered.

Matthew had already finished his makeup and waved a hand, dismissing the makeup artist and his assistant, who filed out of the dressing room.

Helen closed the door behind her and said to Matthew, "I have some bad news for you."

Matthew turned his head to look at Helen.

"I got a tip from a production assistant at Harper Productions," Helen said quickly. "Spike Lee is in another dressing room right now. He's going to be on the talk show tonight."

"Spike Lee?" Matthew was more than a little surprised. "On the same show as me?"

Helen gave a curt nod. "For Oprah's show tonight."

Matthew slowly rose from his chair, shaking his head as his surprise quickly faded. "Oprah's got some nerve."

Honestly, this was truly unexpected.

"There was nothing she wouldn't dare to do."

Matthew knew it was true; Oprah was no ordinary celebrity.

Helen added, "It looks like you'll be facing Spike Lee in tonight's finale." Her eyes bored into Matthew. "This is a battle you cannot afford to lose. If you do, you'll have to leave Hollywood for the next few years."

"Do you think we'll lose?" Matthew had never been so serious. "We've done so much to prepare."

Helen nodded. Now was not the time to retreat. "I can only be backstage," she said. "Everything depends on you."

Matthew exhaled. "It's good that he's here. It's better to settle this face-to-face."

Helen opened her purse and handed Matthew a flash drive. "Use this at the right moment."

Taking the flash drive, Matthew slipped it into the back pocket of his jeans.

Since Oprah had invited Spike Lee, it would be best to address this head-on.

In fact, the incident had already created a cascade of negative consequences. The most immediate was Armani's decision to suspend negotiations with Helen, offering no clear timeline for their resumption. Furthermore, both the Screen Actors Guild and the Producers Guild of America had voiced their concerns, not ruling out the possibility of investigating the casting policies on I Am Legend and the Pirates of the Caribbean films.

Then there was the domestic box office for 300, which would obviously suffer the most.

On Monday, the film had shown a typical box office trajectory, grossing nearly $11 million. By Tuesday, as the media began its widespread coverage of the controversy, the box office took a significant hit, dropping to just $8.5 million for the day. Wednesday and Thursday saw further declines, with yesterday's take falling to just over $6 million.

According to feedback from Warner Bros. and Skydance Pictures, the film was now facing noticeable resistance from black audiences and even some white moviegoers.

This was precisely what had infuriated David to the point of wanting someone to just kill Spike Lee—this investment was far too important to him.

***

In another of the studio's corridors, an agent had just left the dressing room after speaking with Spike Lee.

Inside the dressing room, Spike took off his glasses, huffed on the lenses twice, and pulled out a cleaning cloth to slowly wipe them down. He wanted them polished, ready to see if Matthew Horner would still dare to be as arrogant as he had been in front of the hotel.

This was about business, but it was also personal revenge.

He had already caused a stir, but it wasn't big enough. He wanted to create a tidal wave, one that would permanently brand Horner as a racist and leave him to reap the benefits.

Spike had been very surprised to receive an invitation to Oprah's show. When he learned it was for the same episode as Matthew, he thought it over carefully before deciding he had to be there.

This was a live talk show broadcast across the entire country. If he could make Matthew look bad, he would emerge as a champion of tolerance, a role model for every black person in Hollywood, and the biggest beneficiary of the whole fiasco. The old guard at the Academy already disliked Horner; with a racism charge hanging over his head, Spike was certain they would be left with a very deep, and very positive, impression of him.

After all, Hollywood was dominated by the left.

He might not be the most competent in other respects, but when it came to smearing people with accusations of racism, no one in Hollywood would dare claim to be second best.

You see, he'd been dealing in racial issues for more than a decade and was the number one shit-stirrer—no, the leading expert—in the field.

After so many years in Hollywood, nobody understood this territory better than he did.

Spike Lee knew his own directing skills were mediocre at best. Without resorting to certain tactics, he would never be an A-list director; even his current standing would soon be untenable. After years of research, analysis, and observation of the changing climate in Hollywood, he had arrived at a fascinating and highly effective conclusion: always be ready to shout, "I'm black, and you're a racist."

More than a decade ago, reaching such a conclusion might have gotten him torn to shreds by the industry. But now? Now it was a powerful, door-opening tool with absolutely no drawbacks.

Spike saw the core of the issue clearly: when faced with the onslaught of political correctness, some in Hollywood would bow, and others would recoil, but not one of them would dare to speak out.

In that case...

Why not take advantage of the situation? For him, being "in the right" was a simple matter of skin color, and for anyone to have a problem with that was, by definition, discrimination!

In the current social climate, Horner couldn't escape the racist label. After all, it was a fact that he had interfered with casting, replacing two black actors with two white ones. And it was a fact that Francis Lawrence had left I Am Legend because he had stood up for the black actors.

Of course, he could also see that he wasn't the only one looking to profit from this opportunity. Will Smith, it seemed, also knew which way the wind was blowing.

He had already asked his agent to contact Kevin Huvane. He could very well join forces with Will to keep fanning the flames and turn this into a win-win situation.

Although there had been no clear response from Smith yet, Spike believed that after this talk show, Will would definitely join forces with him.

To make Matthew Horner hated, to force him out of Hollywood in disgrace...

What would make him attractive to Sophia then?

What happened that day still haunted Spike. He had planned this attack meticulously and would never settle for half-measures.

Sitting before the mirror, he slowly considered Horner's reaction over the past few days. It could only be described as stunning; it had caught him completely off guard.

He figured that Matthew was trying to use the influence and ratings of Oprah's show to exonerate himself.

Unfortunately for him, Spike was here too, and whatever plan Horner had was useless.

Thinking this, Spike flashed a brazen smile at his reflection in the makeup mirror, then adjusted it. He needed to practice his winner's smile.

Soon, that winner's smile would come in handy.

****

As darkness fell, a long line formed at the studio's main entrance, filled with the live audience members recruited by Harper Productions specifically for this talk show.

At the entrance, there was not only a security gate but also several guards checking the audience's belongings.

The events of September 11th in New York had forever changed the country, especially when it came to security checks.

Gilbert was a typical African-American man, with naturally curly black hair, a dark complexion, and full lips that always contrasted sharply with his white teeth whenever he smiled.

But today, the young Gilbert wasn't smiling.

He had managed to get a ticket as a live audience member just so he could see for himself if the big Hollywood star he'd once admired was really like the person described in the papers. If it was true, he would never...

"What's this?"

At the security gate, Gilbert was stopped by a guard who opened his bag, found several eggs, and asked, "Why are you carrying these?"

"Can't I bring eggs?" Gilbert scratched his head, putting on a naive and embarrassed look. "It's dinnertime, and I got in line so early I didn't get to eat. This is the dinner I packed."

The security officer reached out a finger and gently prodded an egg, confirming for a moment that it was, in fact, an egg. "Your dinner?"

Gilbert nodded earnestly. "It's my dinner."

The guard waved him through. "Go on in."

Someone had just brought in bread, and another had hot dogs, so bringing eggs seemed normal enough. The guard didn't think twice about it.

Gilbert hoisted his bag and hurried forward, breathing a sigh of relief only after he had rounded a corner.

This was the "gift" he had carefully prepared for the big star who had supposedly discriminated against his people.

If the star he'd once liked really did discriminate against black people, he was determined to give him an unforgettable souvenir.

Hundreds of people were filing into the studio. Gilbert blended in with the crowd, passed a second security check without any trouble, and made his way into the main hall. Perhaps because he was black, the staff seated him in the very first row, right next to the stage.