The speaker flushed awkwardly, realizing he hadn't explained clearly. "What I mean is… we could secretly offer them some kind of guarantee. Maybe tilt things a little in their favor next time."
Tilt? Tilt where? Obviously, towards handing them a Golden Globe award.
"It's useless," someone immediately shot down the suggestion. "Let's be honest—how many years will it be before Bigelow even has another film up for nomination?"
He didn't even bother mentioning Laila. With someone like her—a virtual bug in Hollywood—nobody doubted she'd have new works up for awards constantly. At her pace, she might even have another film ready by next year. But would she care about a 'small' Golden Globe? She already had more Oscars than she could count.
Truth be told, part of why they gave the awards to Cameron was because he only made films every so many years. And when he did, like with Avatar, it became a global phenomenon. What reason could they have not to give him the awards? Laila releases films practically every year—they figured they could always award her later.
As for Kathryn Bigelow's The Hurt Locker, to be honest, most of them didn't think much of it. No box office, no big stars—its critical acclaim was entirely manufactured by a bunch of film critics. Why should they let themselves be led around by the nose by critics? (This was the key point.)
At the time, most voted for Cameron and Avatar. The few remaining votes were split between Laila and her Blood Diamond.
In their eyes, Bigelow's film simply didn't measure up. They were journalists; they'd seen countless examples of critics artificially hyping up mediocre movies. If The Hurt Locker was truly that great, why didn't it make more money?
As for cinematic depth, they didn't feel it was much superior to anything else—certainly not better than Laila's Blood Diamond. So when voting, they excluded Bigelow from the start.
And now here they were, neck-deep in controversy—ironically, not really because of gender discrimination. If anything, it was just their habit of divvying up the pie. Cameron's rare film appearance made him a prime target to sweep the awards, while others, they assumed, would have future opportunities.
They thought they had everything calculated—but they hadn't anticipated that "gender discrimination" would rear its head. Historically, there had never been a year where two female directors were simultaneously strong contenders for major awards.
At the dawn of the next day, the Golden Globes scandal fully erupted in the morning papers and news shows.
"Golden Globe Awards List Questioned"
"Golden Globes Caught in Gender Discrimination Scandal"
"Laila Moran and Kathryn Bigelow Leave Empty-Handed—Possible Victims of Sexism"
Those who were active online already knew about the controversy yesterday. Now, the rest who hadn't been online were learning about it through newspapers and TV.
Most viewers who had watched the ceremony live had seen Avatar and genuinely liked it. They thought giving the awards to Cameron wasn't unreasonable—at most, they simply felt sorry for Laila for having to compete against such a tough rival.
But after reading today's media coverage, people started seeing things differently. Two female directors came to the ceremony with multiple nominations each, yet neither won anything—that did seem odd.
Laila and Roy also read these reports. What surprised them most was that a photo of Laila taken during the ceremony was being widely circulated. It was taken during the announcement for Best Screenplay. Since someone else had won, she hadn't bothered forcing a smile when the camera swept past her.
Normally, her expressionless face wouldn't have meant much. At most, a few people might have gossiped that she seemed overly confident and a bit sour about losing.
But under the current circumstances, that blank face took on new meaning. In past ceremonies, even when she hadn't won, she'd still smile gracefully and brush it off. She never looked angry or sullen.
It showed she was a true professional—broad-minded, a real filmmaker.
So why was she expressionless this time?
Well, according to the media's narrative, it wasn't merely expressionless anymore—it had been transformed into "restrained fury" and "silent protest against an unjust fate."
Laila couldn't help but rub her arms for a long time after reading those descriptions, trying to smooth away the goosebumps. She had no idea she was capable of producing such complex, layered facial expressions. Unjust fate? Silent protest? In truth, she had simply relaxed her facial muscles because she couldn't be bothered to feign an expression!
And most importantly—her expressionless moment came during the Best Screenplay announcement. Everyone knew she wasn't the primary screenwriter for Blood Diamond, only credited for co-adaptation as a secondary writer. So logically, her reaction couldn't have been aimed at that category.
Back then, no one thought much of it. But with the current narrative, people now speculated she must have received some inside information about being treated unfairly—thus explaining her "reaction."
The reports were filled with all kinds of bizarre theories that Laila could barely keep up with.
"I might be the most powerful person in Hollywood," Laila joked half-seriously. "How else could I have known I wouldn't win anything even before the ceremony ended?"
Roy chuckled as he ruffled her hair. "If you had known, you wouldn't have bothered attending the Golden Globes this year."
He too had seen the media crowning her "the most powerful person in Hollywood." The title made him want to laugh more than anything. How could he not? Think of what previous Hollywood power brokers had done compared to her.
She only made her own films, ran her own company, occasionally swept up awards, and promoted a few actors to Oscar glory. She rarely interfered with other companies' operations or fought aggressively for resources for her artists.
So yes—she could leverage her influence to do things others couldn't, but she hardly ever did. The so-called "most powerful" label was nothing more than media speculation.
Laila was quite impressed by his analysis. Nobody understood her better. Of course, she'd rather stay home with little Eli than exhaust herself attending an awards show where she had no chance of winning anything.