Hollywood: Starting From Playing the Little Beaver Chapter 68 68 – The Golden-Masked Little Gold Man

On February 5, 2003, Powell held up a test tube filled with white powder at the UN Security Council, claiming that Iraq possessed chemical weapons. From that mont, the dark clouds of war lood over the entire world.

Since ordinary people dislike war, after that infamous "laundry powder" appearance, peace organizations across the globe began organizing anti-war demonstrations. Then, on February 15, massive protests erupted across major Western capitals — London, Ro, Paris, Berlin — with an estimated turnout of over six million people, possibly as high as ten million.

When such an explosive social event occurred, entertainnt naturally beca irrelevant overnight.

Isabella being nominated for Best Actress at the Oscars at the age of 12 years and 329 days?

Aside from her fans and the Oscars' loyal followers, who would care? Right?

Once the public's attention shifted, all the noise surrounding it vanished.

This turn of events left Isabella's detractors utterly suffocated.

"Oh—No—"

"How can this girl be this lucky???"

No one could make sense of it.

But that didn't matter.

Because they had no power to change the situation—

No matter how angry or jealous they were, it was nothing but impotent rage.

The world's movent doesn't stop for anyone's will—

And so, on March 23, 2003, just a week after the protests, the BAFTA Awards were held at the Odeon in Leicester Square, London. That year, The Voice received 13 nominations, the most of any film.

In the end, the awards The Voice actually took ho were:

Best Original Screenplay, awarded to Isabella and Catherine Best Original Music, awarded to Isabella Best British Newcor, also Isabella Best British Film, awarded to the entire production team

As for the rest?

Isabella had said she didn't want to be too ostentatious.

So, J.K. Rowling obliged her.

Otherwise…

As ntioned earlier, BAFTA is a royally supervised ceremony.

If Isabella were shaless enough to go for it, Princess Anne could have just handed her every single award — Best Picture, Best Actress, all of them — and the audience would only have stood and applauded.

Because nearly everyone in the British film industry — and even many in Hollywood — had benefited from the Royal Film Fund.

Since the British Isles were essentially Isabella's ho turf, nas like Miramax and Harvey Weinstein vanished completely from the awards scene that year.

Universal's The Pianist took Best Picture,

Roman Polanski won Best Director,

Adrien Brody claid Best Actor,

and Salma Hayek — the Latina actress from Frida — won Best Actress.

Christopher Walken received Best Supporting Actor for Catch If You Can,

and ryl Streep got Best Supporting Actress for Adaptation.

Though Isabella was happy about the results, she didn't attend the BAFTA ceremony.

Why?

Not because she was arrogant — she was British, after all, and skipping a royal event out of pride would've been madness.

It was because she was extrely busy.

"Oh—so this is our nation's most promising young film talent? The winner of Best Original Screenplay, Best Original Music, and Best British Film? My God—I'm eting a living legend!"

"Yes, yes—Miss Isabella Haywood, could I get your autograph?"

" too! I want one too!"

"Miss Haywood, could you sign my shirt? I'm going to wear it everywhere! I'll even fra it when I get ho—it might be a relic in a hundred years!"

"..."

The noisy squealing made Isabella's eyelids twitch.

Looking at the bunch of troublemaking kids — or rather, dium-sized troublemakers — she frowned and shouted,

"Are you all insane? Is this your first day eting ?"

"Ron! Were you the one who started this?"

"Daniel! You definitely joined in, didn't you?"

"And you! Tom! Put that chest away! With that scrawny fra, how dare you puff up at for an autograph? You're not even half as sturdy as Neville! Don't believe ? Go bump into each other!"

"HAHAHAHAHA~~"

Before she even finished, Matthew Lewis, Neville Longbottom's actor, puffed up proudly like a rooster.

That tiny show of bravado made everyone burst out laughing, while "Malfoy" rolled his eyes and extended his hand to Isabella.

"Congrats, Isa. The Voice was fantastic…"

Yes — in Britain, there was only one thing in show business more important than the BAFTA Awards:

the Harry Potter series — the pride of British culture and a massive source of dostic film jobs.

The script for The Prisoner of Azkaban had been finalized at the end of January.

Since production work had never truly stopped and Leavesden Studios was always operational, the finalized script ant filming could begin. After coordinating schedules, producer David Heyman set the entry date for February 16, and the official start date for February 24.

That timing did interfere with Isabella's ability to attend the red carpet, but BAFTA didn't mind at all.

When they learned she couldn't attend, they simply said they'd deliver her trophies.

Yes — before the ceremony was even held, they said they'd send the awards over.

Sure enough, the day after the ceremony, the golden BAFTA mask — the symbol of British cinematic honor — was hand-delivered to Isabella.

They weren't even pretending anymore.

But Isabella didn't mind. If she was that good, why hide it?

"Oh~ Isa~ long ti no see, you've beco even more beautiful."

"Thank you~ Ms. Maggie~ it's so good to see you again."

After bickering with her rowdy co-stars, Isabella turned her attention to the elderly woman who had just joined the set that morning — Maggie Smith.

She had been busy. After Chamber of Secrets, she took on several projects, including a Royal Theatre play titled The Breath of Life.

That play premiered on October 3 last year and was supposed to end before Christmas, but audience reactions were so enthusiastic that they extended it until February 1, 2003.

The London aristocrats loved it so much that they even wrote to the Queen herself, who decreed that if everyone enjoyed it, they should continue performing until Maggie Smith could return to playing Professor McGonagall.

So, by royal command, the poor lady kept working.

Since wrapping Chamber of Secrets, she hadn't rested at all.

"So, did you review your lessons while I was busy?"

Maggie asked as she walked toward the makeup area. "You didn't slack off, did you?"

"Oh co on, Ms. Maggie~ do I look like the type to slack off?"

"I was the first one to read Azkaban's script! Of course I reviewed!"

Both were headed to the makeup room.

The Prisoner of Azkaban's production was different from the first two movies — J.K. Rowling's pen had finally begun exploring the world outside Hogwarts. Many scenes couldn't be fild in the studio, so after wrapping up the indoor sets, they had to go out on location.

And since most of the indoor scenes were Hogwarts-related, everyone had to stay in Leavesden until around April.

For Isabella, waiting around wasn't tiring — she didn't have to attend school like the others!

So as she and Maggie entered the makeup room, Isabella teased,

"But Ms. Maggie, since you weren't here, I don't actually know how well I studied this year. If sothing goes wrong—"

"That's your fault."

"No, it's your fault," Isabella countered. "You weren't here, so if I didn't study well, it's on you."

"..."

Maggie Smith froze.

She glared at the little girl — who was now shoulder height — and said flatly,

"Isabella, you have two options. One, we go back, and you rephrase that properly. Two, we keep walking, and I give you a good smack. Which will it be?"

"I pick neither," Isabella said cheerfully.

"Why?" Maggie narrowed her eyes.

Because she was back in Professor McGonagall mode.

"Because you won't actually hit ~" Isabella chirped, hugging her arm.

That cute little act made the older woman chuckle and tap Isabella twice on the forehead before dragging her into the makeup chair.

Monts later—

"Wow~ our Princess Granger has arrived~"

At 10 a.m., the main cast gathered for their first eting in the "classroom."

Since Isabella had co with Maggie, she was a bit late.

Director Chris Columbus joked about her tardiness, prompting laughter from everyone.

A shyer person might've been embarrassed by all the teasing, but Isabella?

"Oh~ thank you~ thank you for the warm welco~"

She shalessly accepted the laughter, even smoothing her uniform skirt and sitting down gracefully.

Waving to Columbus, she said,

"Chris, go on. What were you talking about? It couldn't have been anything important, right? Surely no one would start before the princess arrived?"

"Wooow——"

Her performance sent everyone roaring with laughter.

Columbus was wiping tears from his eyes as he said,

"Not yet! I wouldn't dare start without you. Now that you're here, we can begin our first task."

"Since a few people just arrived today, let's talk about what's new and what's not…"

This was their third film together. Normally, by now, there wouldn't be a need to discuss script-versus-novel differences.

But Columbus insisted — to make a good film, one must first understand the story.

They spent two full days reading through the script in costu, getting every scene clear.

Then, on February 26, The Prisoner of Azkaban officially began filming.

It opened with the start of a new school year — a new Dumbledore welcoming new students to a new Hogwarts…

Truth be told, Isabella's favorite thing to do these days was act.

Once she stepped onto a set, all the troubles of the outside world simply vanished.

Of course, that was also a kind of escapism — because the world kept turning whether she looked or not.

And so, while she worked in peace, the world continued to spin—

On the sa day Azkaban began filming, the British Parliant passed a motion supporting military action.

Britain and its "Big Brother" stood shoulder to shoulder once again.

By March, the conflict had intensified. On March 5, even the Pope publicly called for restraint, peace, and reason—

declaring that war is the failure of humanity, incapable of bringing true happiness.

But USA didn't pay any attention to him.

Not only that — on March 17, USA even issued a final ultimatum to the oil-rich region.

It demanded that its top leader leave the country within 48 hours, or else they would use "physical thods" to help him exit gracefully.

The other side also ignored USA .

So, on March 19, the ever-face-saving USA decided to keep its word and follow through.

The Iraq War was about to break out.

Before the war even began, anti-war protests were already explosive social events that wrecked all kinds of entertainnt activity.

And once the war officially started…

The blazing flas of conflict devoured everything in their path.

Before the cruelty of war, everything else had to step aside. So when the date reached March 23, 2003, the Academy Awards took a direct hit — from the start of its broadcast, the ratings were the lowest in history.

After that?

They never recovered.

Of course, the Oscars also tried to ride the war's publicity wave. As the flagship of liberal Hollywood, once the fighting began they condemned the actions of the opposing party. But then… they pulled a stunt.

They canceled the red carpet.

Their reason? Anti-war protesters wanted to use the Oscars' global broadcast to call for peace, and had literally surrounded the Dolby Theatre, holding signs and banners to demonstrate.

So…

Wasn't this just your left and right brain fighting each other?

You condemn the conservatives' actions, but you also don't want to give airti to anti-war protesters.

Are you trying to play both sides —

or is your butt just too big to fit on one bench?

The Oscars' little stunt made them the target of every news headline!

That's right.

While the Oscars were being broadcast live, political news anchors on other channels were already roasting them — and both the pro-war and anti-war camps were furious.

Once that happened, no one cared anymore who actually won.

And that…

actually gave Warner Bros. and Disney a perfect natural shield.

Because the results that year were as follows:

Just like the BAFTAs, among the top four awards —

Best Picture went to Paramount's The Pianist,

Best Director to Roman Polanski,

and Best Actor to Adrien Brody.

Only Best Actress changed — it went to Julianne Moore for Universal's Far From Heaven.

Best Supporting Actor and Actress went to Chris Cooper (Adaptation) and Kathy Bates (About Schmidt), while for Best Original Screenplay…

"And the Oscar for Best Original Screenplay goes to—"

On stage, presenter Ben Affleck drew out his voice—

"The Voice of the World, Isabella Haywood and Catherine Haywood!"

"Ahhhhhh—! Isabella won! Isabella won!"

"Oh my God! That's her first Oscar, right?"

"What a pity she's not here—she's in the U.K. filming Prisoner of Azkaban—"

Even with the chaos outside, the kids were glued to their idol.

The fact that Isabella had won sent them into total ecstasy — and the people inside the industry applauded with warm smiles.

Everyone understood Warner's move.

Isabella didn't win Best Picture or Best Actress not because she couldn't — but because she wanted to save face.

So Warner respected her wish and gave her Best Screenplay instead.

To the public, that award might not seem flashy.

But inside the industry, it's deeply tied to Best Picture,

because the screenplay is where everything begins.

Movies are stories told through light and shadow — without the story, there is no film.

So this win for Best Screenplay was really Warner showing its muscle,

and it was also a victory built on Isabella's own will.

Just…

"Unbelievable."

And aside from Best Screenplay, Isabella actually received another statuette — Best Original Song.

When Warner's team went on stage again to accept the award on her behalf, kids watching at ho scread even louder — excitent, joy, pride, and—

Click.

At that sa mont, in Los Angeles—

Eminem was watching the Oscars broadcast.

When the award for Best Original Song appeared, the lighter in his hand flicked to life.

That flickering fla seed to mirror the agitation in his heart.

Earlier, he had indeed wanted to go for the Oscars,

but when Universal told him that Warner had made it clear —

they'd already claid this year's "at" for themselves —

he knew his chances were slim.

He hadn't expected Best Picture.

All he wanted was Best Original Song, since music was his main craft.

Winning that Oscar would an mainstream acceptance.

Because back then, hip-hop was still considered non-mainstream in Arica.

But when The Voice's the was also about music…

Warner's power almost guaranteed Isabella would take Best Original Song.

So, even though he got a nomination, Eminem didn't attend the ceremony.

Why go if you're not going to win?

That'd just be stupid.

But even though he had predicted it, even though he was ntally prepared — when it actually happened, he was still furious.

He thought his "Lose Yourself" was phenonal.

As for Isabella's "The Climb"?

No matter how good it was, it couldn't compare to his masterpiece!

So…

He lost?

"Heh—"

"What a load of garbage."

He grabbed the remote and angrily switched off the TV.

Then, with a hard swing, he hurled the black remote at the wall.

It hit with a sharp crack, scattering into pieces.

The scene made Brittany Murphy, sitting beside him, flinch in fear.

"Em…" she whispered.

"Hm?" he turned his head.

"You're… not going to attack Isabella, right?"

Brittany said quietly, "We can't ss with her. She's not Mariah Carey."

"Hahahahaha—"

Eminem burst out laughing.

He spread his arms and pulled her close,

his hands tightening around her curves, his head dipping as he inhaled her scent.

"Relax," he murmured. "I get it…"