Brett leaned back on the couch, staring at the TV with little interest. "Tell me again, why are we watching the Oscars? Can't we do something better?"
His girlfriend, Patty, whipped her head toward him with a scandalized expression. "How can you say that? Don't you know who's nominated tonight?"
"Yeah, yeah. You and your crush on Troy Armitage, I know." He waved a hand dismissively. "And after watching the movie, I agree he deserves every award he can get, but these things are already fixed. Everybody knows who's gonna win."
"Do you?" Claire asked from the love seat, where she was curled up with her boyfriend, Jasper. "Because I don't."
"Of course I don't know," Brett shot back. "I'm not an insider. But please enlighten me about the relevance of these awards."
Patty's fingers tightened around his arm as she glared at him. "It's just entertainment. At least for me. You promised last week that you'd watch it with me. So now hush and let me enjoy it."
Brett didn't argue, though his expression betrayed his regret at agreeing to this. Since the ceremony hadn't begun yet, he tried steering the conversation elsewhere. "So, what's new with these awards this year?"
Claire sat up a little straighter, clearly the most knowledgeable one in the room. "Oh, it's really exciting. Warner Bros launched a massive campaign to get [The Dark Knight] nominated in as many categories as possible. Their biggest push was for Best Picture. Everyone just knew Troy would be nominated, which he was, but the film itself got snubbed."
"Exactly my point!" Brett exclaimed. "They didn't nominate the best film of the year for Best Picture. And you still want to watch this farce?"
"It still got twelve nominations," Patty defended the show quickly. "Almost every category except Best Picture and the lead acting ones. It's up for Director, Screenplay, Original Score, Makeup, Costumes, Visual Effects—the whole shebang. And of course, Best Supporting Actor for Troy."
Brett frowned slightly. "Didn't Troy win Best Leading Actor at the Golden Globes?"
"He did," Jasper chimed in. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "I'm still not sure how the categories work or what makes someone supporting versus leading, but there's this blind item online that Troy really wanted to compete as a lead. Something got messed up along the way, and now he's furious but can't do anything about it."
Brett raised his eyebrows. He hadn't expected gossip like that from Jasper, but it was interesting enough to catch his attention.
"He deserved to be lead," Brett said firmly. "The movie was what it was because of him, not Christian Bale. Without the Joker, he's just a guy in a cape."
"Exactly!" Jasper agreed, nodding emphatically.
Not wanting to be left out of the discussion, Claire added, "The worst part is that most of the nominations went to [The Curious Case of Benjamin Button]. It's not even that good. Sure, the premise is interesting, but most people agree [The Dark Knight] was better in almost every way."
Patty jumped in with another piece of information. "There was a massive backlash against the Academy when [The Dark Knight] wasn't nominated for Best Picture. People called the Oscars outdated and out of touch. There was even a petition demanding the Academy release the actual voting results so everyone could see what went wrong. It caused such a stir that the Academy announced that they will adjust their voting system in the future."
"Don't forget," Claire chimed in, "starting next year, if an actor is in at least one hour of the movie, or more than 50% of the run time, they won't be eligible for Supporting categories. Less than that, and it would be their choice which category they want to be nominated for. So, if Troy says he's a lead actor, despite having lesser screen time, he will be considered the Lead Actor. Also, there will be ten Best Picture nominees instead of five, so something like this doesn't happen again."
"That's a bad move," Brett said flatly. "It just lowers the prestige of a nomination if every half-decent film can sneak in."
Patty shrugged. "It is what it is. But the snub gave [The Dark Knight] a ton of positive publicity. People in Vegas are even betting it will win the most awards tonight."
"It's starting!" Claire announced suddenly, cutting the conversation short.
Sure enough, Hugh Jackman strode onto the stage, grinning as the spotlight followed him. Within minutes, he had launched into a full-blown song-and-dance routine, more fitting for the Tonys than the Oscars. The living room filled with the bright glow of the TV screen, and everyone's attention shifted to the spectacle.
When the performance ended, the air in the room seemed to sharpen with anticipation. The first award of the night was about to be presented.
"What the fuck!?" Brett exclaimed, sitting up straighter. "They're starting with the most anticipated category?"
"Of course they are," Claire said knowingly. "People would tune out if they saved everything big for the end. No one cares about technical awards like makeup or visual effects, but everyone pays attention to the acting ones. They've done it this way for years."
Brett shook his head. "I'm not a producer, but even I know that as soon as Troy wins his award, half the viewers, at least the younger ones, will leave. They should've saved his category for later, maybe even last."
Then something unusual happened on stage. Instead of one presenter, five walked out together, their silhouettes outlined by the stage lights.
"They're past winners in the same category," Patty explained quickly. "I remember Alan Arkin winning a few years back, when Troy was also nominated for [Little Miss Sunshine]. And Cuba Gooding Jr. won for [Jerry Maguire]. The others, I'm not sure."
Brett said nothing. One presenter or five, it would still come down to a single name in the envelope. He leaned forward, waiting.
Alan Arkin stepped up to the microphone, his voice steady and warm. "Over the course of my long career, I've met very few people who leave such a lasting impression after a single meeting. One such man is here with us tonight, and that man is none other than Troy Armitage."
The camera cut to Troy, who sat smiling modestly at the tribute, his eyes lighting up at being introduced by his former co-star.
"When I first met Troy while filming [Little Miss Sunshine], he didn't say a word to me," Arkin continued. "Even by the time I wrapped my scenes and left the set, he remained mum. He had taken a vow of silence to better understand his character's mindset. Other actors might understand that. At the time, I didn't. All I thought was, 'Damn, this kid is serious.' And then he amazed me, and the rest of the world, with what he did as the Joker in [The Dark Knight]. It was a performance of a lifetime, one I don't think I could ever replicate, even after seeing it with my own eyes."
Arkin's lips curled into a smile as he leaned closer to the mic. "Just one question for you, Troy. Why so serious?"
He thickened his voice, imitating Troy's Joker accent for the last line.
The camera panned back to Troy, who laughed openly, unable to hide his amusement at hearing his own famous line echoed across the stage.
Brett frowned slightly, confused about why the presenters had singled out Troy of all people, but his unasked question was answered when the next speaker began praising Josh Brolin.
"That was a great intro," Brett remarked.
"Yeah," Patty agreed. "And the fact that they brought in one of his past co-stars to deliver it made it even better."
They settled into silence after that, though Patty couldn't keep her foot from bouncing against the floor. Her nerves filled the room with a restless energy. Brett, on the other hand, had only agreed to watch half-heartedly, but by now even he was invested. He wanted to know if Troy would win. If not him, then Robert Downey Jr. was Brett's second pick. His performance in [Tropic Thunder] had been hilarious. As for the other three nominees, Brett hadn't seen their films and couldn't say if they were any good.
Finally, after what felt like forever, Alan Arkin tore open the envelope. The audience seemed to hold its breath.
"And the Oscar goes to… Troy Armitage for [The Dark Knight]!"
"YEEAAHHH!" All four of them shot up from their seats, screaming like lunatics, as if they themselves had just won.
"I fucking knew it!" Patty shouted, throwing her arms around Brett and kissing him full on the lips.
"Hey, lovebirds!" Claire called over the noise. "You'll miss his speech. Sit down already."
They quickly dropped back onto the couch, eyes glued to the screen. Troy was on stage, embracing Alan Arkin before taking hold of the golden statue. At only twenty years old, he now held his second Oscar for Best Supporting Actor, and his fifth overall.
The camera swept across the hall, showing the entire audience rising to their feet, applauding with genuine admiration.
"Wow," Claire muttered, almost in awe. "That kind of respect at twenty years old is insane."
"Dude purchased Sony Columbia Studios and YouTube," Jasper pointed out. "And he's one of the richest people in the world. Of course they respect him, or at least pretend to. He's easily one of the most powerful men on Earth."
Onstage, Troy adjusted the microphone, his voice carrying across the hushed theater.
"Thank you so much to the Academy for this huge honor. As actors, we ride the coattails of so many people who stay hidden behind the cameras. Our makeup artists, costume designers, musicians, even stuntmen. This movie wouldn't have been possible without each of them giving their all. So thank you to those unsung heroes. I share this award with you tonight. I'd also like to thank my parents, who made me the man I am today. And I can't praise the genius of Christopher Nolan enough. Thank you, Chris, and thank you to Dick Parsons for casting me in this role even when I wasn't the obvious choice."
He paused, sweeping his gaze across the audience before continuing.
"My fellow nominees, my seniors, my betters. I can't thank you enough for the incredible performances you've given over the years. I still remember being a kid, turning on the TV and imitating your lines, your expressions, your style. You inspired me then, and you continue to inspire me now. Thank you for setting such a high bar, and for pushing me to grow as an actor."
When Troy stepped away from the mic, the auditorium erupted once again in thunderous applause, the standing ovation rolling through the crowd like a wave. He disappeared backstage, still smiling, the Oscar in his hand.
"That was a great speech," Brett admitted. "He seems so humble and down-to-earth for someone that rich."
"The guy's a billionaire and still chooses to act," Jasper replied. "That tells you everything. He loves his work. Why else keep doing it?"
"Now let's see how many awards [The Dark Knight] racks up tonight," Claire said, turning eagerly back toward the screen.
Brett sighed. The highlight was over, and he wanted to move on, but Patty's grip tightened around his arm, silently warning him that the night was far from finished.
(Break)
Winning any major entertainment award was a pain. Whoever had decided winners should be rushed backstage for interviews immediately afterward deserved to rot in the worst parts of hell for centuries.
"Troy, congratulations on the win," a male reporter began, his voice carrying over the continuous clicking of cameras. "It was truly deserved, in my opinion."
"Thank you," I said with a polite nod.
"My question is: why did you mention Harvey Weinstein at the Grammys?"
Oof. A tough one right off the bat.
"I did?" I asked, feigning obliviousness. I looked around the press room as if confused, then broke into a laugh. The tension softened instantly as everyone laughed with me.
"To be honest, it was a spur-of-the-moment thing. Nothing planned," I continued. "I despise the way The Weinstein Company runs its award campaigns. Older actors have told me this all started in the late nineties, when studios began throwing massive marketing campaigns at voters, sometimes bigger than the film's budget itself. We all know why [Shakespeare in Love] won Best Picture over [Saving Private Ryan], which most critics still consider one of the best films ever made. And then there's the fact that Harvey is… well, a bad man. I'll leave it at that."
The reporters' stunned expressions said it all. No one in this business openly called people out like that. I had no qualms, though. I had no intention of working with Weinstein in any capacity, and being publicly against him could only help my image in the long run.
The mic passed to another reporter, this time a woman near the front. "You've said in the past that you love the work of Quentin Tarantino, with [Pulp Fiction] being your favorite film. Mr. Tarantino works exclusively with The Weinstein Company. Are you saying you wouldn't work with him?"
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.
"That's a very far-fetched question that wanders into hypotheticals," I said smoothly. "But to answer, yes. And that's not because of Tarantino, it's because I like the freedom of producing my own projects. Now that [Harry Potter] has wrapped filming, I can focus on new ideas. I already have more than enough scripts my team is reviewing for my next project."
Vague enough to keep them satisfied, without shutting the door on Tarantino entirely. If he ever broke free of Weinstein's orbit, I'd be open. Otherwise, not worth it.
"Last question," a coordinator called out. "Number eighty-one."
The mic was handed to a younger woman, probably mid-twenties, her notebook clutched tightly as if this was the moment she had been waiting for.
"You've won Emmys, Grammys, and now an Oscar in less than a year," she said quickly. "Is a Tony next on your list—to complete your second run of EGOT?"
"I would love to do a play again, musical or not," I said earnestly. "I've been away from the theater world for so long that people have stopped sending me serious offers. But if I get a script that's excellent, I'd love to do it. Not for an award, though, I already have plenty of those. It's always about giving my best work to my audience."
With that, the interrogation ended, and I was finally released from the vultures. Oscar in hand, I made my way back inside, only to stop short at the sight in front of me.
Christopher Nolan was standing there, grinning, a golden statue clutched tightly in his hand. Beside him, Jonathan Nolan held one of his own. The moment I saw them together, I knew what had happened. They had won Best Adapted Screenplay, the announcement I'd missed while stuck in that press gauntlet.
"Troy!" Chris exclaimed, pulling me into a hug. "Thank you so much. We couldn't have gotten this without your amazing performance."
In a way, he was right. I knew the alternate timeline without my involvement, where the two won nothing.
"You deserve it," I said, patting his back before moving on to embrace Jonathan. "You both do."
The Nolan brothers were quickly swept away toward their own interviews, leaving me free to slip back into the auditorium during an ad break. I reclaimed my seat beside Mum, Oscar resting on my lap.
"[The Dark Knight] has already won a lot of awards," Mum noted, her tone brimming with quiet pride.
"Oh?" I asked, turning to her curiously. "Which ones?"
"Best Sound Editing, Mixing, Cinematography, Editing, and now Adapted Screenplay. That's six altogether, including your Best Supporting Actor."
"Whoa. That's awesome," I said, grinning. "Let's see if we get any more."
(Break)
We didn't. But that's life. You win some, you lose some. Still, it was a great night for the film—we had taken home more awards than any other production that evening. [Slumdog Millionaire], which claimed both Best Picture and Best Director, only managed five in total, two of which were for music. Honestly, that's the only category that film should have won for.
And now came the Governor's Ball. Something I had been both anticipating and dreading. Because I knew it was inevitable that Harvey Weinstein would be there. I don't like having confrontations with assholes, but some things were inevitable.
________________________
AN: Visit my personal website to read ahead, or check out my second Hollywood story set in the 80s.
Link: www(dot)fablefic(dot)com