I am Hollywood

Chapter 311: Chapter 312: Occupational Habits



[Chapter 312: Occupational Habits]

At a brightly lit mansion in Beverly Hills, a lively party was taking place to celebrate the start of filming for The Godfather Part III. By the pool outside the villa, a middle-aged man in his forties with a bit of a paunch and thinning hair was animatedly talking to a dark-haired woman beside him.

"You know, I worked as Mr. Coppola's assistant on both previous Godfather films. It was like being a co-director. Mind you, I was just in my early thirties back then. It's not easy to become a co-director at thirty in Hollywood. Over the years, I kept in touch with Mr. Coppola. He even introduced me to the investors for this film. He has high hopes for my script. So, Miss Connelly, as long as you perform well, I guarantee you'll successfully make that transition."

Jennifer Connelly felt a bit impatient inside, but she dared not show it. After losing the role of the love interest in Running Out of Time last year, her agent Jim Lister had not devoted much attention to her. As a result, it had been a whole year since she had landed any role.

If this continued, she might find herself completely forgotten by Hollywood. Just the thought unsettled her. Without Hollywood, what else could she do? Acting was all she knew.

She could settle down with a man, become a full-time housewife, and while she could accept that option, she didn't want to lead a mundane life concerned only with groceries and bills. Even in marriage, she desired a richer life.

But among the people she knew, only someone like this man -- forty or fifty, established in Hollywood -- could provide her with that life. Not to mention, the age of these men usually matched her father's. Moreover, in Hollywood, their marriages were often the most unstable. Who knew when she might get dumped? With age creeping up on her and her looks fading, what would she do then?

"Hey, Miss Connelly, are you listening to me?"

The woman snapped back to the present as she heard a slightly annoyed voice nearby. She quickly focused, putting on a smile. "Sorry, Mr. Blanton."

Tony Blanton seemed pleased with her response and discreetly glanced at her figure accentuated by her black evening gown before continuing, "Miss Connelly, zoning out at such a formal event is quite rude. Those big shots wouldn't have been so forgiving. Oh, here comes Al Pacino! And Mr. Coppola, and, is that... his nephew Nicolas Cage?"

Jennifer Connelly noticed a few men approaching, laughing as they came from the villa. The man in the middle with glasses and a big beard was clearly Francis Ford Coppola. The others who had been chatting in the yard quickly gathered to greet them.Nôv(el)B\\jnn

"Miss Connelly, let's go say hello," Tony Blanton said, gently raising his arm.

Jennifer hesitated but linked her arm with his and walked towards Coppola and his group.

After a group departed, Tony Blanton quickly released Jennifer Connelly and approached Coppola with a friendly smile. "Mr. Coppola, congratulations on directing the final installment of The Godfather series. I believe this film will make quite a splash!"

"Thank you, Tony. How's your movie coming along?" Francis Coppola asked, shaking hands with Tony.

"It's almost ready to roll! Oh, and this is my lead actress, Miss Jennifer Connelly. She starred as Deborah in Sergio Leone's Once Upon a Time in America. Not sure if you remember her."

Francis Coppola sized up Jennifer Connelly like she was an item for sale. To Hollywood bigwigs, no beauty could really captivate them.

Feeling scrutinized, Jennifer froze, her outstretched hand that was meant for handshake greeting dropped, and she nervously fidgeted with her dress hem.

"Hmm, not bad, just a bit too pretty, Tony. Your film is a drama; it's not always good to have such a stunning lead."

Tony Blanton was about to speak when Coppola waved his hand dismissively, "Of course, it's your film that you've prepared for so long. The casting is your decision, and I won't interfere."

"No, no, Mr. Coppola, if it weren't for you, I wouldn't know where to find investors. Plus, your judgment is way better than mine. If you think she's not suitable, I'll definitely reconsider." Hearing Tony Blanton say this, Jennifer felt her heart sink. The role she had fought so hard for could vanish just because of a casual remark. In an instant, she wished these powerful men were dragged into hell.

Coppola noticed her expression and quickly patted Tony on the shoulder, laughing, "Easy there, Tony. I was just joking. This girl still seems promising. If you replace her, who knows how many times she'll curse me in private?"

"Of course not! Miss Connelly admires you a lot. We were just discussing your films," Tony quickly replied, gently nudging Jennifer, who stifled a sniffle, trying to pull herself together. Just as she was about to speak, Coppola had already turned to walk away with Al Pacino and Nicolas Cage.

...

"Frank, who was that guy? I feel like I've seen him somewhere," Al Pacino asked once the three moved away.

"Oh, he was my assistant during the first two Godfather films, which is probably why you recognize him. We've kept in touch over the years. Recently, he approached me about making a film and I introduced him to a few investors out of respect," Coppola casually replied. Al thought for a moment but couldn't recall who Tony Blanton was and dropped it. Watching Nicholas Cage lean curiously towards the entrance, Al chuckled, "Come on, Nick, I've been saying it forever: Eric rarely attends parties. He's not into this sort of scene. You should focus on your audition. If you impress Eric and factor in your family ties to Coppola, I believe Eric will hand you the lead in Ghost."

At the mention of Eric, Coppola appeared contemplative. "Speaking of which, after that recent incident, everyone thought that kid wouldn't get through it. Turns out he came through, and made Michael Eisner eat crow, handing over a script. Al, you've worked with Eric Williams. What do you think of him?"

Al Pacino pondered briefly and shook his head. "Honestly, I couldn't say. I had just made my Broadway comeback at the end of last year when Eric hit me up in a cafe. He pitched me his script, and at first, there was nothing special. I was ready to turn him down when he then mentioned the script for Scent of a Woman. It piqued my interest, so I quickly hopped on a plane to LA. If I had to say... he's very mature -- mature beyond his years. When you're with him, you quickly forget he's still under twenty. It feels like you're talking to someone your

own age."

"You've got me interested in meeting this remarkable young man," Coppola replied with a laugh. "I heard Steven had tried to get the rights to Jurassic Park but got turned down by the kid! Haha, not many can pull one over on Steven in Hollywood."

"He's definitely earned that privilege now," Al chuckled in return.

Coppola paused for a moment before grinning, "Yeah, he really has. Who knows, in a few years, Hollywood's big seven might just turn into eight. I can't believe how many hit films he's been able to produce. Half of last year's top ten box office were from Firefly Films. Truly remarkable."

As they chatted, the commotion near the entrance of the mansion caught their attention. In unison, they exchanged glances and started to head in that direction to find out what was

happening.

...

"Fam, why do you seem a bit awkward? Is your dress uncomfortable?" Eric inquired as he drove towards the Coppola estate, glancing at Famke Janssen, who sat in the passenger seat.

She wore a rose-colored one-shoulder gown, her hair styled into an elegant bun. Even though she wore only a touch of light makeup, she looked significantly more beautiful than when Eric had seen her earlier in the afternoon.

"No, no, it's nothing. Just an occupational habit," Famke Janssen replied shyly, finally relaxing her hands on her knees.

"Occupational habit?" Eric asked, intrigued.

"Yes," she smiled awkwardly, then explained. "Back when I participated in fashion shows, the clothes were usually designed just before the event. If you accidentally ripped one, us models couldn't afford to pay for it. So, we couldn't wait to take them off after walking on the

catwalk."

*****

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