The Best Movie Actor In Hollywood!

Chapter 684

Oscar season had arrived, and publicists in black suits were everywhere. Even PR magnates from other industries descended on Los Angeles this time of year to join Hollywood for its annual gala and claim their slice of the pie, like Harvey Weinstein, who had more than once hired top talent from presidential campaigns to run his Oscar campaigns.

It had been proven time and again that those who were willing to spend money—and spend it lavishly—stood a much better chance of winning an Oscar.

As for those like Anne Hathaway, who weren't prepared to invest in a major PR campaign, it was better to wait until they had the funds to even think about winning Best Actress.

However, Matthew was disappointed to find that, aside from Anne Hathaway's campaign, no one was courting him with PR, and not a single one of the numerous indie film distributors had sent him an invitation.

Perhaps it was because he had never been involved in that circle.

Aside from a three-second shot in Girl, Interrupted, since his role as the barbarian chieftain in Gladiator, he hadn't been in a single art-house film, firmly labeled as a commercial megastar.

Although, technically, the few films he had made with David Ellison could be classified as independent—after all, they were produced by a small company—their quintessential commercial qualities, combined with distribution by one of the "Big Six" studios, meant no one would ever recognize them as such.

They were a world apart from the art-house films.

Did the film feature any psychopaths? Depressed characters? Neurotic protagonists? Did it have one slow, empty shot after another?

If not, then it had nothing to do with art.With no one courting him for the Oscars, Matthew was ready to vote as he saw fit, and for Best Actress, his first choice was, of course, Anne Hathaway.

By this point, Matthew had built a reputation for himself throughout Hollywood.

"Your presenter gig is set."

On the second weekend after New Year's, Helen called Matthew. "You've already presented the award for Best Picture, so they won't let you do it again anytime soon," she informed him. "The one pushing for you this time is Disney Pictures, so you and Paul Walker will be presenting the award for Best Animated Feature together."

Hearing this, Matthew immediately understood Disney Pictures' plan:

"Looks like Disney doesn't think WALL-E is the winner for Best Animated Feature."

Helen added from the other end of the line, "Although that animated film falls into the category of lower commercial performers among Pixar's features, the reviews for it are truly outstanding."

Matthew nodded. "A rare and excellent animated film."

Everyone knew that the box office and merchandise revenue for a great animated film could still fall short of expectations. WALL-E's worldwide box office of over $500 million wasn't considered exceptional against its $180 million production budget.

Even if WALL-E won Best Animated Feature, it likely wouldn't change the fact that its merchandise sales were far worse than those for Cars.

One outstanding commercial film after another met with a mediocre market response, while one bad movie after another became a hit. He had also come to realize that the taste of audiences in the so-called "mature" North American film market wasn't that much more sophisticated than that of audiences on the other side of the Pacific, where the market was still in its infancy.

Ultimately, everyone liked simple, fun, and exciting commercial blockbusters.

The North American market was well-segmented: art-house theaters specializing in artistic and cultural films were distinct from the traditional commercial cinema chains. Art-house theaters rarely screened major commercial films, and commercial chains generally didn't show art-house films, so fans of the latter had their own dedicated venues and never needed to step inside a multiplex if they didn't want to.

"By the way, there's one more thing."

Before hanging up, Helen reminded him, "Don't forget about your Oscar ballot—mail it in before the fifteenth."

"I know."

Matthew hung up and found his Oscar ballot and the long list of eligible contenders. It was filled with the names of films and actors submitted for Oscar consideration, most of them so unfamiliar that his head spun just looking at the list.

A thought flashed through Matthew's mind, and he suddenly understood something:

The Academy had over 6,000 voting members, most of them spread across North America. The majority, like him, were busy working professionals—who had time to watch every single film on the list? That's why those vying for an Oscar spent fortunes on relentless media campaigns, just to get their names out there.

As a result, those Academy members who didn't bother to watch a particular film would simply favor the familiar names when they cast their vote.

It seemed like a normal human reaction.

He, however, had no intention of voting for the nominations that way, as it would be unfair.

As an Academy voter, he had to uphold the principles of fairness and impartiality!

Since this was for the nominations and not the final awards, Academy rules stipulated that as a member of the Actors' Branch, he could only vote for the acting categories: Best Actor, Best Actress, Best Supporting Actor, and Best Supporting Actress.

Additionally, since he had also joined the Producers' Branch, he could vote for the Best Picture nomination.

Matthew picked up his ballots, which had been mailed by PricewaterhouseCoopers and featured little golden statuettes. As expected, they only listed those five nomination categories.

The Academy, of course, merely paid the bills and did none of the actual work. For years, the Oscar voting process had been handled by PricewaterhouseCoopers—in fact, the firm had been overseeing the ballots for over eighty years.

Finding the ballot for Best Actress, Matthew first wrote in Anne Hathaway's name. However, he couldn't quite recall the name of the film or her role, so he had to pick up the list of contenders again to look it up. Then he filled in the film, Rachel Getting Married, and the corresponding character, Kym.

What about the rest?

Matthew scanned the list of contenders. Among the familiar names were Kate Winslet and Meryl Streep—actresses that anyone who hadn't seen the films would almost certainly pick.

Especially Meryl Streep, who was universally recognized as the epitome of acting.

Meanwhile, given Harvey Weinstein's reputation in the industry, it wouldn't be surprising at all if Meryl Streep won the Best Actress Oscar through one of his campaigns...

Glancing over the list of candidates, Matthew thought hard about how to choose and came up with a solution.

He asked the housekeeper to bring a board from the ground-floor study into the living room, taped the list of candidates to it, and stepped back. He made a motion as if throwing a dart, gesturing at the list.

"This won't do," he said, shaking his head. "Too close."

Matthew wanted to ensure his vote would be absolutely fair and impartial; how could he risk choosing someone based on a familiar name? He took another five steps back, until he could no longer make out the names.

"Still no good." He gestured again and shook his head. "I just looked at the list, so I still remember where the names are."

The familiar names could subconsciously influence his choice, and there would be no guarantee of fairness or impartiality.

As an Academy voter, how could he not treat fairness and impartiality as his guiding principle?

Therefore, Matthew called the housekeeper over again, had her bring a thick black cloth, and used it to blindfold himself, completely obscuring his view of the list.

After a moment's thought, he asked the housekeeper to hand him a few darts.

Matthew threw four darts in a row and said to the butler, "Go and see if they all hit the board."

A voice replied, "All four hit the target."

Hearing this, Matthew untied the blindfold, walked over to the board, took down the list, and examined it carefully. There were four holes in the paper; three of them had pierced the text.

However, one had landed in a blank space.

Matthew thought for a second and decided that since this mark hadn't landed on any text, he would simply choose the closest name.

Taking the ballot, he wrote the chosen names on the four lines below Anne Hathaway's.

"Now that's fair." Matthew checked the ballot again to make sure there were no mistakes. "Except for Anne Hathaway, the other four choices were completely free from the influence of my personal feelings."

Compared to those voters who accepted small gifts or were swayed by PR propaganda, his vote was a much better reflection of the Academy's principles of "fairness and impartiality."

To be a qualified voter, one had to be honest and fair to the end. Matthew resolved to fill out the rest of his ballots the same way—blindfolded, to ensure a choice free of subjective influence, unlike the one he had deliberately made for Anne Hathaway.

At noon that same day, he sealed the completed ballots in an envelope and mailed them to PricewaterhouseCoopers.

After lunch, Matthew left the estate and headed to Disney Studios, where post-production on Fast & Furious was wrapping up.