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Chapter 761: With Honor

NBC Television Station, Live Broadcast —

Signaled by the crew, Anson didn’t rush to take the stage but stood still, adjusting his breathing and making sure he was fully prepared.

Then, he started walking.

Confident, composed, as if stepping onto the runway of Paris Fashion Week.

Clap, clap, clap.

Polite applause surged, but it wasn’t wild, creating a stark contrast with the earlier backstage commotion.

The guests in the banquet hall needed to present a polished and graceful image in front of the live cameras. All their passion and enthusiasm were reserved for the award winners. They didn’t have any extra energy for a presenter—

That’s normal.

After all, presenters aren’t the main attraction.

Especially not when it’s Anson.

Seeing Anson stand under the spotlight again, in his unorthodox suit, stirred memories that hadn’t yet faded.

A subtle vibe filled the air — a feeling of scrutiny, as if they were watching a screen test, assessing his every move.

The applause, brief and polite, quickly died down, leaving an air of quiet as countless eyes focused on Anson.

Calm and unhurried, Anson stood straight at the floor mic, took a momentary pause, then smiled.

“Music is an essential part of any film. It creates atmosphere and helps the audience feel the emotions conveyed by the visuals.”

“The same scene and characters can evoke completely different emotions with a different soundtrack. That’s one of the magic elements of film.”

“For example—”

The first half of his speech was standard, just the lines written by the award show’s scriptwriters, guiding the audience through the introduction of the award category—

And that was it.

With an award like Best Original Score, it’s often hard to inject humor. Even if the presenter wanted to show off some charm, it’s a tough task.

Anson’s performance… was predictable. No surprises, no mistakes. That was it. The atmosphere in the banquet hall remained completely calm.

Heh, is this a shock?

Of course not, it was expected. A pretty face, what more can you hope for? From his red carpet fashion choices, you could tell it was all about grabbing attention with flashy looks.

That’s all.

The reality is, audiences fall for it — just look at the box office of “Catch Me If You Can.” But in a place like Hollywood, insiders are a different breed. They’re not so easily impressed.

Good-looking?

Come on, this is Hollywood. There’s never a shortage of handsome guys and beautiful women.

Alright, now it’s time to announce the winner for Best Original Score.

But then—

Amidst all the scrutinizing gazes, Anson changed his tone.

“For example—”

Music started playing—

Wait… wasn’t that the classic score from the “Tom and Jerry” cartoons?

Wait, what?

Tap, tap, tap.

The guests in the banquet hall thought there was a technical error, like the wrong music was playing. Their attention wavered slightly. But before they could figure out what was happening, their eyes were drawn to the figure on stage.

Anson was dancing.

It was the iconic dance sequence from “Singin' in the Rain.”

Light and graceful steps, smooth and free-flowing movements.

A whirlwind of footwork timed perfectly with the lively cartoon music, spinning away and then sliding back to the mic.

In just three or five seconds.

The audience barely had time to react before Anson was back at the mic, with a slightly puzzled look toward the award show director.

“Uh, this wasn’t part of our plan.”

“Tom and Jerry” paired with “Singin' in the Rain,” a hilarious cartoon score mixed with tap dance. Two completely different styles clashing together.

The effect… was simply hilarious.

But that wasn’t all.

Without missing a beat, the music started again, this time—

Laughter spread quietly through the banquet hall. The score was from the most intense, spine-tingling part of “Jaws,” widely recognized and deeply iconic.

And Anson?

Jazz hands!

With both hands spread, elbows bent at his sides, his arms opened wide as he shook his hands in classic jazz dance fashion.

Smart guests instantly caught the reference and drew the right conclusion.

“Chicago”!

Sure enough, they were right.

Anson performed a routine from the movie “Chicago,” which reignited the golden era of musical films this year. The audience immediately lit up.

His posture, movements, facial expressions, and the twinkle in his eyes were spot-on.

To be fair, professionals could tell right away that Anson had just crammed to learn the routine. His technique was shaky, his basics not refined. It was all just for show. He clearly wasn’t a pro.

But none of that mattered—

Because the score was from “Jaws.”

Even with all the professionalism and passion Anson put into his jazz routine, there was still that faint scent of fishiness. Something was hilariously off, making the whole thing feel awkward yet entertaining.

At that moment, who could pay attention to the details of Anson’s dance?

Smiles had already crept up on everyone’s faces.

The jazz dance went on a bit longer, but only for about four eight-counts. Anson returned to the mic. Before he could speak, the next piece of music began playing, half a beat late.

“No, no—”

But this time, Anson didn’t dance again. He stood at the mic, gripping it with both hands, looking serious, as if shifting instantly into a formal mode—

Lip-syncing rap.

Because this time, the soundtrack was Eminem’s “8 Mile,” the semi-autobiographical movie’s title track, which was also a favorite this award season.

Although Anson couldn’t keep up with Eminem’s level of rapping, nor the lyrics, the key was that he had the attitude, the gestures, and the expression.

He practically became Eminem.

After four more eight-counts, Anson stood tall, holding an imaginary mic in his right hand. Then, he released it, mimicking the gesture of dropping the mic.

Thud.

Even though there was no actual mic, the sound system played a soft thud, signaling the end of the performance with a perfect closing note.

Buzz.

It was like a stone had been dropped into a calm pond, ripples spreading rapidly.

The entire room was stunned—

No one had expected this, not at all. Anson had put on a show using mismatched music and dance styles to showcase the impact of scores in film, more directly and powerfully than any speech could.

For a moment, no one knew how to react. Minds went blank.

This scene, visually and aurally, shattered everyone’s expectations.

Anson, with his long limbs and lack of formal dance training, still moved with beautiful lines. And in that suit, his suave and sharp appearance took everyone by surprise, stealing the spotlight before anyone could react.

On stage, bathed in bright lights, it felt as though a spotlight followed Anson wherever he moved.

The mix of confusion and awe left everyone stunned. Before they could criticize or sneer, they were already swept into the storm, their minds momentarily blank, as if everything had just—

Wait, what just happened? Something felt a bit off, didn’t it?

*Chapter 762: The Master of Stealing the Spotlight*

Dancing?

Wait, dancing???

Just now, did Anson perform three dance routines to three different pieces of music?

What did they just witness?!

Not only the Hilton Hotel in Hollywood, but at this very moment, everyone was losing their minds.

The audience watching the live broadcast at home was equally stunned.

This wasn’t a stage performance, but a presenter. No award presenter has ever linked things together in such a way, nor has any presenter ever demonstrated the importance of music scores so intuitively—

Let alone performing three distinct styles in just 30 seconds.

Sitting in front of the TV, people couldn’t help but question their eyes.

Media reporters were no exception—

Wow!

Surprise, 100% surprise!

After his unusual entrance on the red carpet, Anson effortlessly stole the spotlight again at the award ceremony.

A circus clown?

So what!

The entire Golden Globes is a big circus performance where every guest is part of the show. While they were busy viewing Anson as an elephant, they completely missed the fact that they themselves were the monkeys — no real difference at all.

Anson didn’t care at all. Not only did he not care, but he started to make fun of himself—

From his grand ballroom entrance with Maggie for the tango to becoming a fashion ambassador just before the ceremony started, all the way to delivering a show-stopping moment as a presenter.

“Tom and Jerry” paired with tap dancing?

“Jaws” paired with jazz?

“8 Mile” lip-syncing an Eminem impression?

Epic!

Explosive!

The crowd went wild!

In that instant, memories of the Emmys from two years ago came flooding back.

Back then, Anson unexpectedly won, turning envious and jealous looks into spotlight moments. He seized the opportunity to gain an edge for the "Friends" cast, which eventually tipped the scales in their negotiations.

And tonight, once again!

This is not a coincidence, absolutely not!

The crowd was buzzing, the atmosphere electric!

A wave of excitement spread instantly.

All eyes were on the stage—

In the center, the man who just stirred up a tsunami looked calm.

One moment, he was rapping and losing the mic; the next, he was striking a perfectly composed pose, even slightly lifting his chin to accentuate his jawline.

“This is a music score.”

“It’s something that feels invisible, but must be there, undeniably part of the movie.”

Clap.

Finally, the applause broke the silence.

No one knew who started clapping first, or whether it was for Anson’s words or for Anson himself, but the applause erupted unexpectedly and echoed throughout the Hilton Hotel ballroom.

Clap, clap, clap!

The applause swelled.

This time, the enthusiasm was palpable. Maybe it was for Anson, maybe for the music score, or perhaps both. In this moment, it was an instinctual reaction. The act of clapping took on a soul of its own, emotions gushing forth, transforming into applause.

It grew louder and more intense, wave after wave.

There were whistles and cheers mixed in.

The ballroom came to life; moments ago, it was full of lifeless, robotic clapping, but now it was full of real, lively people.

Crazy? Maybe not, but it certainly had some genuine feelings back.

Anson was slightly surprised—

Applause, as a formality, was expected.

But this level?

It was an unexpected bonus, for sure.

This time, however, Anson didn’t show off any witty moves. The timing was wrong—he couldn’t steal the winner’s thunder and needed to shift the audience’s focus back.

So, without pausing, Anson jumped straight to the point.

“The nominees for Best Original Score are—”

Perfect timing and flawless execution.

Once again, Anson’s poise left everyone impressed, lightening the mood.

The Best Original Score, like many technical awards, often doesn’t get much attention.

Hollywood knows the importance of technical awards like editing, cinematography, costumes, makeup, hair design, and art direction in making a great film. But because these people work behind the scenes, they rarely get the spotlight they deserve.

Right now, the Oscars remain the only comprehensive award ceremony in North America that continues to present all technical awards, while the Golden Globes only hand out Best Original Song and Best Original Score.

Even so, the general public still finds a three-hour awards show too long and believes that technical awards should be cut to save time. These awards could easily be presented before the main ceremony.

Later, as the digital age sped up the pace of life, the Oscars tried something similar to the Grammys by presenting some awards beforehand.

The result? Hollywood insiders were furious. Countless behind-the-scenes workers spend their whole lives waiting for the chance to prove their efforts on the Oscars stage, only to have that opportunity stripped away, leaving them as faceless figures in the news.

Of course, that’s a story for another time.

For now, it’s the same old story.

Nobody cares about Best Original Score, and the reason boils down to music scores not having “presence.”

But now, with Anson’s demonstration, people were reminded of the importance of a film’s music score. He stuck to his boundaries, making sure not to steal the actual award’s glory—

Undoubtedly, this moment became a sensation.

This year’s five nominees for the Golden Globe Award for Best Original Score were “The Hours,” “Far from Heaven,” “25th Hour,” “Rabbit-Proof Fence,” and “Frida.”

Clap.

Anson opened the envelope, pulled out the card, and announced the winner.

“Elliot Goldenthal, ‘Frida.’”

Thunderous applause filled the room.

This time, it was for Elliot Goldenthal.

This legendary composer has created soundtracks for films like “Interview with the Vampire,” “Heat,” and “Batman Forever.”

He’s composed for both art films and commercial blockbusters, yet luck hasn’t always been on his side, and he never got the recognition he deserved.

It’s hard to believe this was only his third Golden Globe nomination; he’s had two Oscar nominations as well. But tonight was his first win.

The audience stood in unison, applauding the legendary composer.

Elliot was visibly moved, his face beaming with joy. Even though he tried his best to contain it, a slight tremble in his steps gave him away.

Perhaps awards shows have slowly morphed into PR games, where strategy and tactics often matter more than talent or quality. But there’s no denying that, for the winner, the joy and happiness of that moment are irreplaceable.

It’s a recognition, a validation.

A trophy can’t define a life or a talent, but it can leave a mark, proving that one’s efforts mattered.

Standing before Anson, receiving the trophy from his hands, Elliot gave Anson a hug—a big, solid, warm hug.

Anson was a little surprised, considering he had just stolen some of the spotlight from the award, diverting people’s attention to the point where they might forget who the actual winner was.

But then, Elliot whispered in Anson’s ear, “Thank you. Thank you for giving composers a place in film.”

This, more than anything, was important. Even if people remembered only Anson’s performance, it didn’t matter, because that performance was about music scores.

Taking a deep breath, Elliot said again, “Thank you.”

Then, he turned to embrace his well-deserved moment in the spotlight.

*Chapter 763: A False Impression*

Clap clap clap. Clap clap clap.

In the crowd, Charlie Kaufman politely joins in the applause, feeling a bit out of place amidst the chaos of the award ceremony, as if he’s detached from the whole scene.

Luckily, Anson’s appearance pulls his attention back, surprising Charlie a little.

Clearly, this wasn’t the Anson he remembered.

But this multi-talented version of Anson reminded Charlie of an old friend, John Malkovich.

Of course, the more handsome version.

John Malkovich, a brilliant actor full of quirky ideas, was never a heartthrob but became a golden supporting actor in countless films. It was this very actor who inspired Charlie to create Being John Malkovich.

The original title of Being John Malkovich was actually Becoming Malkovich because Charlie imagined what it would be like if he could crawl into Malkovich's head, see the world through his eyes, and become him.

Now, Charlie couldn’t help but wonder, what would it feel like to become Anson? What kind of world did Anson see through his eyes?

His mind began to drift again, floating off into his own imagination. For Charlie, this was much more comfortable. Lost in his own world, the awards ceremony didn’t seem so unbearable anymore.

…

“You were extraordinary.”

When Anson returned to his seat, the always composed and aloof Catherine Zeta-Jones raised her chin slightly, her eyes showing a hint of admiration, clearly surprised by Anson’s hidden talents.

Since they sat down, apart from a polite nod of greeting, this was the first time Catherine had initiated a conversation with Anson. Initially, Anson had thought that due to her pregnancy, she was too tired and weary to make small talk.

But it seemed that wasn’t the case.

Anson met her lazy gaze and said, “I tried.”

A slightly self-deprecating remark that lightened the mood effortlessly.

Catherine chuckled, “You should’ve joined our cast.”

“Chicago?”

Anson’s lips curled slightly. “Oh, I think I’ve already missed that boat.”

“Haha,” Catherine laughed out loud.

Cameron, sitting nearby, couldn’t help but smile too. Worried that she might burst out laughing, she quickly covered her face with her hand, trying to hide her amusement. Her shoulders gently shook as she quietly giggled.

Compared to the awards ceremony, Anson was far more entertaining.

This brief, lighthearted exchange injected a bit of excitement into the otherwise monotonous event. The atmosphere in the banquet hall became noticeably more lively. Whispering and murmurs began to ripple through the room, adding a subtle but noticeable change in energy as the awards progressed.

One by one, the awards were revealed.

One by one, the trophies were handed out.

Then.

Jennifer Connelly, dressed in a soft lavender gown, took the stage. This was the same young girl who had captivated audiences with her ballet in Once Upon a Time in America, but she had now grown into a full-fledged star. Last year, she swept the awards circuit, winning Best Supporting Actress at multiple events for her brilliant performance in A Beautiful Mind, and ultimately clinched her first Oscar.

Of course, she also won the Golden Globe for Best Supporting Actress.

Tonight, she was back at the awards, this time presenting the award for Best Actor in a Musical or Comedy, as the ceremony reached its climax.

Anson could feel a gaze from his right side. No doubt it was Cameron Diaz, watching him with an amused, knowing expression. She didn’t say anything, but her eyes said it all:

"Aren’t you nervous? Not even a little bit? You don’t have even the tiniest bit of hope? Hey, we’re at the Golden Globe Awards, and you’re a nominee. What if you win? Are you sure you’re not nervous at all?"

Her eyes were teasing, clearly enjoying herself.

Anson tried to ignore her.

But… not far away, Jared seemed to notice Cameron’s amusement and began glancing over at Anson, which made him pull a wry smile.

It was the same with Jennifer Aniston, and now Cameron too. He was completely innocent, nothing ever happened between him and them, but their partners kept giving him suspicious looks. If there was any kind of flirtation going on, fine, but the truth was—

There wasn’t.

Seriously, nothing.

Anson leaned slightly to his right, lowered his voice, and said:

“You know something?”

“Being nervous is an illusion. It’s just the adrenaline from the live event.”

Cameron looked at Anson.

Anson kept his eyes on the stage.

“All that fluttering butterflies in the stomach, the sweaty palms, the tightening throat, the ringing in the ears, the pounding heart that won’t settle down—it’s all just adrenaline.”

Cameron: …

After a pause, she swallowed, her smile frozen at the corners of her mouth, her gaze drifting away under the bright lights.

“Damn it, now I’m feeling all of it,” Cameron muttered under her breath.

Anson had to use every ounce of his willpower to keep his lips from curling into a smile. He nodded slightly, “You should enjoy the excitement while it lasts—it won’t last long.”

Cameron shot him a confused glance.

Why did she feel like something wasn’t quite right, but couldn’t put her finger on it?

Her brain didn’t have the capacity to think anymore—her nerves had drained all her energy.

She had been completely duped.

This little scene didn’t escape Catherine Zeta-Jones' notice. She couldn’t help but smile as she watched Anson smoothly talk Cameron out of her anxiety.

Anson sensed Catherine’s gaze and innocently shrugged.

Catherine shook her head lightly. “I’ve got my money on someone else.”

Richard Gere, who had been nominated for his brilliant performance in Chicago, was Anson’s direct competitor. Catherine, also part of the Chicago cast, had made her stance clear early on.

Anson didn’t mind. He looked at Catherine, then at Cameron. “So, am I caught in the middle of a catfight?”

In this context, “catfight” wasn’t about kittens; it was slang for women fighting.

Or to be more blunt, drama between women.

Catherine, competing for Best Actress in a Musical or Comedy, and Queen Latifah, also from the Chicago cast, was nominated for Best Supporting Actress, going up against Cameron.

Anson was the unlucky guy stuck in the middle.

Catherine glanced at Anson again. Once again, without missing a beat, he had subtly shifted the topic and smoothly extricated himself, and no one even noticed.

Time was tight, so Catherine didn’t say more. She simply shook her head, “I don’t know Queen.”

Pfft.

Anson almost lost his composure.

When he looked back at Catherine, she had already returned her gaze to the stage, her expression completely calm, as if nothing had happened.

Smooth. Very smooth.

Short and sharp.

Catherine displayed a whole other level of charm.

Anson turned back, shaking his head slightly, muttering to himself, “I don’t know anyone.”

Catherine’s lips twitched slightly as she regained her composure, but after a moment, she couldn’t hold back. She turned to the side and burst into quiet laughter, her shoulders shaking silently.

Anson remained expressionless, completely innocent, even leaning slightly to the right to distance himself from the situation, as if he had no idea what Catherine was laughing about.

*Chapter 764: No Surprises*

After a brief exchange, Catherine and Anson stopped, their gazes both turning to the stage.

As everything settled down, the smile on Anson's face gradually faded, and the nervousness he had momentarily forgotten surged back with overwhelming intensity, spreading through his chest like a storm and flowing through his veins until his fingertips became icy cold.

Cameron's introduction was just a prelude; the atmosphere in the room was the real culprit:

The rhythmic drumming, the focused cameras, the expectant gazes—all of it instantly created a tension that clung to the room. The suspense, moments before the reveal, gripped Anson's heart like a hurricane, pulling him in completely.

Was Anson not the least bit excited?

That would be a lie.

Of course, there was anticipation. Once you’re nominated, it’s hard not to imagine what could happen. After all, there were only five nominees, and each one had a chance.

If he won, it would be a breakthrough, an affirmation, and a validation—

In both his past and present lives, it seemed he had never proven his own worth.

In the past, he didn’t understand; later, he couldn’t. But now?

He loved acting, truly enjoyed performing, and had finally started savoring the joy and magic of acting. Whether he won or not, he wanted to keep performing. But if he could gain recognition through an award?

That would be even better!

The Emmy for Best Guest Actor in a Comedy Series wouldn’t have to stand alone.

Perhaps, this was the opportunity?

Desire, like a seed, sprouted and grew, taking root in Anson’s chest. It wasn’t just nervousness anymore; it was excitement and joy filling him. His stomach churned as he instinctively held his breath, his eyes fixed on the stage—

Burning with anticipation.

Subconsciously, Anson clenched his fists and took a deep breath. But instead of trying to control his emotions, he allowed the tension and excitement to spread through his body. That intense sensation, so heated it left his fingertips cold, made Anson feel more alive than ever.

Clearly, he wasn’t some saint indifferent to worldly desires.

His lips relaxed slightly as he rediscovered his smile.

On the big screen, clips of the five nominees were being shown:

Richard Gere, Chicago.

Nicolas Cage, Adaptation.

Hugh Grant, About a Boy.

Adam Sandler, Punch-Drunk Love.

One after another, it was hard to imagine a fresh twenty-year-old face appearing alongside such established industry giants.

Without a doubt, he was the fresh, standout face.

Anson Wood, Catch Me If You Can.

Unique and one-of-a-kind, like a refreshing breeze in a spring valley after the rain, the contrast between him and the other nominees was stark.

Jennifer Connelly’s voice rang out—

“It's like in Las Vegas, where the house always wins.”

The big screen showed Anson’s handsome profile, but Tom Hanks’ voice came from the speakers as Anson held the receiver to his ear, listening.

Slightly unexpected, the Golden Globes had chosen this scene from Catch Me If You Can, where young Frank Abagnale calls Carl Hanratty for the second time on Christmas Eve.

The lighting was dim, even a little shadowy, but the play of light on Anson’s face clearly outlined the shadows cast by his nose and brow. In that instant, the loneliness, bitterness, and struggle he portrayed froze time.

There were no lines; he wasn’t the one speaking, yet Anson effortlessly commanded the room’s attention.

For a brief second, memories came flooding back, pulling everyone into the story of Catch Me If You Can, with the movie’s scenes and emotions coming to life.

This ability to evoke empathy was no ordinary skill.

People had seen Catch Me If You Can, heard professionals praise Anson, and knew he was the only member of the cast to receive a nomination, but the impact had never felt so direct.

Before this, discussions were filled with, “Oh, the Golden Globes, right? Comedy or Musical category? I knew it. That category’s always watered down; there’s no need to take it seriously. Whether he’s in or out doesn’t matter. The Hollywood Foreign Press Association just went for the buzz.”

That dismissive prejudice had been everywhere.

Until now.

Without a comparison, there’s no harm. Even a single clip could change perspectives, making his performance stand out in a whole new light.

Then—

“Carl, sorry, I’ve got to run.”

Young Frank lowered his eyes, hurriedly hiding the emotions in them, hung up, and stood to leave the screen.

The clip ended, and polite applause filled the banquet hall. Yet, for a fleeting moment, the audience was lost in thought.

Some began to wonder if they had truly seen this scene in the movie; others found themselves unintentionally reminiscing about it. A few even felt curious—was it just their imagination, or did that pretty face actually have acting skills?

Of course, not everyone thought that way—only a small portion of the audience.

The magic of film, after all, couldn’t compare to the immediacy of live theater.

But Anson himself was lost in a daze.

In that moment, the reality hit him more clearly than ever, gripping his heart and momentarily cutting off his breath.

Time seemed to hit pause.

Watching his performance alongside the other nominees, seeing his own face displayed live on the big screen, the red light of the camera in front of him indicating that everything was being broadcast—

It was impossible not to feel nervous.

Anson didn’t hide his nerves. Instead, he looked directly into the camera, awkwardly biting his lip as he realized his anxiety had been caught on film. He tried to smile again.

But it didn’t work.

This wasn’t acting. It was real. This was Anson’s most genuine, unfiltered reaction, presented for everyone to see.

What was there to hide?

A few of the guests noticed, and faint smiles appeared on their faces. His youthful, raw response was so rare and real, it reminded them that Anson was just a twenty-year-old young man.

Everyone had been twenty once.

Amid the hustle and bustle, a little warmth and kindness filled the air.

But it was fleeting, and soon all attention returned to Jennifer Connelly.

Thud, thud.

The banquet hall fell into brief silence. Anson’s heart pounded so loudly it echoed in his ears as Jennifer Connelly pulled out the card with the winner’s name. For a moment, everything was quiet—

“…Richard Gere, Chicago.”

The answer was revealed.

No suspense, no surprises.

Anson exhaled softly, his tense nerves slowly unwinding.

Disappointed?

A little.

He also tasted a hint of bitterness.

But it was only temporary.

The result wasn’t unexpected, and Anson had seen it coming. The surge of excitement and anticipation brought on by the atmosphere gradually cooled, grounding him once more, his thoughts quieting.

This wasn’t his year.

*Chapter 765: Amusement for One’s Own Sake*

Regret is regret, but this simply wasn’t Anson’s year.

Without a doubt, Chicago and Adaptation were the true frontrunners. Not only at the Golden Globes, but they had already gained the upper hand in the Oscar race. Even before tonight's award ceremony, discussions revolved around Richard Gere and Nicolas Cage. The results were no surprise.

Catch Me If You Can was never in the running as an awards favorite.

As for Anson, being only twenty years old and carrying the “pretty-boy idol” label, getting a Golden Globe nomination for Best Actor in a Musical or Comedy was already a victory.

The future is bright.

A hint of disappointment crossed Anson's lips, and he didn’t hide his emotions, openly showing it. But soon, the feeling dissipated, replaced by a deep breath and a wide smile. He stood up alongside Catherine and Cameron, clapping for Richard Gere.

Clap. Clap! Clap!!

The entire room stood up, applause rising higher and higher. In the midst of whistles and cheers, the energy reached a new peak, sweeping across the venue like a storm.

In this moment, Anson no longer mattered; there was only one star of the night—Richard Gere.

It’s hard to believe, but this was Richard Gere’s third Golden Globe nomination, following An Officer and a Gentleman in 1983 and Pretty Woman in 1991. Yet, it was his first win ever.

After two decades, this longtime heartthrob and charismatic actor finally received his well-deserved recognition.

So, this moment belonged to Richard alone.

The entire Hollywood Hilton was thunderous with applause.

Do awards matter?

Not that much, because the true test of great work is time. Only time can reveal whether a piece is truly great.

But, they do matter. They symbolize recognition from the industry and prove your existence.

More importantly, the industry cares. A trophy can bring more attention, allowing actors, directors, and writers to gain more creative freedom.

At this moment, the spotlight was fully on Richard Gere.

Anson also stood and offered his heartfelt applause.

Cameron Diaz gazed at Richard Gere as he ascended the stage, her expression momentarily distant. But she quickly collected herself, smiling again, politely clapping her hands.

She glanced to the side and noticed Anson looking at her.

She realized her expression must have been seen by Anson, but she didn’t mind. As she stood clapping, she shrugged and rolled her eyes, a polite gesture that needed no words. Her expression and movements said it all:

"We're in the same boat."

Throughout Cameron Diaz’s career, she had been trying to shake off the “pretty face” label, to prove she was more than just her looks.

Unfortunately, she had been fighting a losing battle.

In fact, forget about Oscar nominations—this year’s Gangs of New York was only her second Golden Globe nomination, despite the award’s openness to comedy and musicals.

It’s a pitifully low number.

So, did Cameron care?

Of course she did. It’s impossible not to feel the pressure.

The treatment Richard Gere received tonight was what Cameron dreamed of—recognition beyond her classic “pretty face” roles in films like There’s Something About Mary and The Mask. She wanted to be acknowledged as the talented actress she was.

But control wasn’t in their hands. What could they do?

Cameron chose a positive attitude and laughed at herself.

She turned to Anson and made a funny face.

Both of them burst into laughter.

However, the feeling of looming disappointment was never wrong.

First, Charlie Kaufman lost out on an award, an unexpected surprise but not entirely shocking.

Alexander Payne’s About Schmidt, which he wrote and directed, beat Kaufman’s mind-bending meta-narrative Adaptation, once again leaving Kaufman empty-handed.

Amidst the sea of applause, many eyes glanced toward Charlie.

Charlie remained expressionless, clapping mechanically like a robot. But Anson noticed his glance toward Anthony not far away. That look clearly said:

“Can we leave now? I’m starving and I just don’t care anymore.”

Then, Cameron failed to replicate Richard's miracle and missed out on her award as well.

The Best Supporting Actress trophy went to Meryl Streep for Adaptation.

By 2003, Meryl Streep had already set the record for 18 Oscar nominations, and she was one of the most respected and trusted actresses in the industry—perhaps even surpassing the legendary Katharine Hepburn in influence.

This year, Meryl had been on fire again. The Hours was a critic’s darling and had earned her an invite to the Berlin International Film Festival's main competition next month. Meanwhile, Adaptation was beloved by arthouse film fans. Her dual hits had garnered universal acclaim.

Cameron generously clapped for Meryl, even whistling.

Then she turned to Anson, “Phew, it’s finally over.”

With the tension gone, she relaxed, feeling some regret but also relief.

Unlike Anson, Cameron was thirty years old. She knew how short Hollywood’s shelf life was for actresses. If she didn’t manage to transition soon, her future would only get tougher.

Behind Hollywood’s glitz and glamor lay brutal realities.

Anson met her gaze, “People always say award ceremonies are just a bunch of Hollywood elites entertaining themselves. If that’s the case, you could always throw your own party and celebrate yourself. I’m sure Jared wouldn’t mind hosting a small pool party at your villa tonight.”

There were plenty of parties happening tonight—maybe not a hundred, but definitely close to it.

All under the guise of “celebration.”

But Anson’s words made Cameron stop and think. Throwing her own party and giving herself an award? That sounded very Hollywood.

A chuckle escaped her lips, and the cloud lifted. Her face brightened. “Has anyone ever told you that you have a lot of strange ideas?”

Anson smiled. “I thought that was a good thing in Hollywood.”

Cameron caught the sarcasm in his voice. “A good thing, of course. Trust me, you wouldn’t want to have a conversation with Brad Pitt or Tom Cruise.”

Anson blinked. “Um, is that okay? I mean, they speak English, right?”

“Ha!” Cameron laughed. “They’re fine. It’s just that everything they say is about themselves. God, if they didn’t talk about themselves, they wouldn’t know how to speak. Honestly, I’m not interested in their bodies, and I’m even less interested in their souls.”

This “pretty face” definitely had a fascinating mind.

“Oh, right,” Cameron’s eyes lit up. “I have a friend I think you should meet. Charlie, Charlie Kaufman.”

Anson: Wait, what...?

“Of course,” Anson’s smile widened.

Cameron turned and quickly spotted a dejected-looking Charlie in the crowd, eagerly waving her hand to greet him.