If we talk about how to present the most beautiful won and place them in context, that is precisely what the Oscars had been doing since 1990, and it was an undeniable truth: everything changed with Cindy Crawford, her dress lighting up the stage as she beca the most talked-about figure of the night.
From a few steps away, from certain angles, you could glimpse what one might call every man’s dream in the world; each of these won, through presence and identity, commanded a call to embody what was, at that mont, a truth shared by all.
-Thank you for the necklace, my love - Monica whispered. Around her neck rested a four-million-dollar necklace, an extravagant gift from Billy’s hand: a yellow diamond set in a half moon, rubies on each side, crafted in white gold that accentuated her blue dress. With golden hues, it made her look magnificent, almost vibrating amid the crowd of people chasing a photograph.
The lights blinded them; from every angle, caras flashed as photographers adjusted themselves, knowing that in less than twenty minutes, one of the galas destined for posterity would begin broadcasting. Nothing would remain rely on paper; it would live on in what they called collective mory, a story ant to be rembered for the next twenty years.
So you think you can win. Those were the questions repeatedly asked of Billy, who rely nodded and continued on his path, almost weary of the words. His mind was fixed on seeing Jas Caron competing against Life Is Beautiful and Jas L. Brooks. Yet, truthfully, everyone could imagine only one winner. The film was an odyssey of love, forged primarily through a comrcial box office that stopped the world with 2.4 billion dollars earned, a story that held you captive for three full hours.
-Even now, I can’t believe the event turns people into frantic protesters, searching for the slightest slip from you or - Billy comnted, responding to the refusals. - It seems your necklace chains the flashes and lets us enjoy photos without flash. -
-I brought you snacks - Monica said, pulling from her small purse two large packets of almonds mixed with dried fruit, far beyond what the theater offered, though he hardly ate any of it.
-There’s a party waiting for us after this - Billy comnted.
-A flight. -
-Before a proper al, I need sothing to fill my stomach - Billy replied. Deep down, he knew he was craving that magical, sweet chicken he had tasted a month earlier at a fine-dining restaurant: plum sauce and spicy sauce blended with creamy rice that lted in his mouth, so unforgettable that he hired the chef to recreate the dish at his mansion for a select group of guests, spices on the table and business on everyone’s lips.
-Yes, they’ll be coming - Monica replied timidly.
-We have ingredients for fifty people,e and forty are coming; I’m afraid we’ll have to host two extra gatherings - Billy said, brushing it off.
….
The entrance of eleven awards, tuxedos gleaming, and the spectacle greeted the crowd from every angle. At midday, the cheer entrance was magnificent, followed by Sharon Stone, Elizabeth Huntan, and Gloria Stuart.
Kate arrived in a black dress; her curls were endearing. Drew Barrymore followed, her short hair styled in a 1960s look, radiant. Antonio Banderas arrived from his own angle, and farther back ca Caron Diaz, followed by Madonna and Arnold Schwarzenegger; everyone arrived with ti to spare.
The comntator was Robert Greene, who delivered a lavish speech about the awards and what seventy years of the Oscars represented, with outstanding nominations that drew thunderous applause. The first to take her place was Drew Barrymore.
-The people who make us better or worse are the makeup artists - Drew’s voice was tender, and in the categories stood n in Black, Titanic, Mrs. Brown. Three categories that ultimately fell to n in Black as the winners on screen.
-Looks like you won - Monica whispered, referring to a film released by Lux Films in 1997, featuring much of the sa cast. As Lux Films leaned toward n in Black, the whisper followed through to the awards for Best Sound Effects.
-No, just try to win; it’s only about receiving - he replied, watching. What remained aside was clear: the opposition was entirely feasible, and the standings were dazzling.
Then ca the actresses.
…
Billy watched from the audience as the six nominees competed for a single spot, and he simply reflected. His role was brilliant, yet perhaps it was not what he had expected, and perhaps everything would pass into another life, as things often do. He sighed and let it all go wherever it was ant to go.
The nominees were Robert Forster, Anthony Hopkins, Greg Kinnear, Robin Williams, and Billy Carson. His profile on the screen, that square jaw, had its own charm, and he liked it. Amid an ovation, Robin Williams won with excellence. He stood; his broad forehead and glasses unmistakable.
-Thank you for putting in this category, thank you all, thank you to Ben and Matt for being spoiled brats, and thank you to Gus Van Sant for being almost subliminal, thank you to Mashboob Weinstein, thank you to Marsha, thank you to my father for supporting in becoming an actor and throwing my clothes from the third floor for being that person - Robin Williams said. There was no denying it: he was one of the most celebrated, standing there bravely as an icon. His films could be admired from any angle, and that could not be denied.
Beside him stood the cast of Titanic, but it didn’t matter, and Billy knew it: everything else faded, everything fell behind when there were so many awards still to be given.
-It’s an award - Billy comnted calmly, knowing full well that what remained was applause.
-Yes - Kate whispered, sensing sothing premonitory.
-You too - Billy said. - Don’t make that face; honestly, I don’t care much about winning a prize like this. I’d like it if it were my priority, but unfortunately, it isn’t. -
-Yes - Monica whispered, slightly annoyed. The caras moved closer to her, her beautiful eyebrows captured, reflected like the muse she was, a brave muse.
-I’d like to win it at that age - Billy added, looking at the older n. In old age, everything aligned differently; now he found himself, in so way, like a vain man, a man with the field at his feet. What could be more beautiful than being chosen, when everything is positioned in your favor, and you are a man with an impeccable career, free to do the minimum or the superficial?
The night held its surprise when Jas Caron won Best Director, shaking hands and offering the proper congratulations. He shook Billy’s hand.
I don’t know about you, but I’m having a great mont. I don’t know, as a director, but I have a killer instinct for casting: there’s Juli, Kate, Billy… ah, Billy, you’re a damn prophet. Kathy, Francis, Bill, and others with —and there are the producers, Jon Landau, Mike Caron with his cara systems, and my beautiful wife. Of course, my parents, who are my judges. I declare to you all that I am the king of the world - Caron said, heating the room as the ceremony neared its end."
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