That evening, the Dolby Theatre glittered and sparkled like a jewelled box as the 75th Academy Awards took place in the bright light of the blinding spotlights and crystals that bedecked the venue. Harry had attended a number of high-profile events, such as red carpet premieres, international film festivals, and even many dinners held by Fox, but the Oscars were very different from all those other events.
A palpable sense of history filled with decades upon decades of stars who had each graced that same red carpet but pretended that they weren't at all anxious or nervous about attending the Academy Awards.
As Harry, Chris and Greg got seated in their seats, just as the press had surged forward with excitement, the very same roar of photographers surrounded them when the well-known actors, represented by large publicists, arrived. The first of these arrivals was Harvey Weinstein.
Harvey had a presence. You could sense it without even hearing an introduction. When he entered the venue, it was as though everyone present was jolted in their seats. A rumpled tuxedo indicated he likely hadn't slept for days. A sparkle in his eye indicated that he was both comfortable and confident as he strode toward Memento's section. In a way, he did own the Theatre.
As Harvey arrived before them, he offered an awkward laugh that did not touch his eyes. "So tell me, are you Christopher Nolan? You're the one everyone is excited to see tonight!"
Nolan straightened up, being polite but careful, "Mr. Weinstein, it is nice to meet you."
"It is nice to meet you as well, also congratulations for another success! (referring to Insomnia)" Harvey said with a waistband of them since his voice was smooth and slippery like oil. Harvey then glanced over at Harry. "And you must be the well-known Mr. Jackson, the phenomenal producer that's creating such a stir."
"That's correct," Harry said, smiling mildly with his hand extended. "However, I think your reputation will continue to overshadow mine."
Harvey took his hand in a firm manner, almost as if they were competing against each other for dominance, and replied: "For the time being. I hear good things about you. Memento was a pleasant surprise for you this year."
"Thank you," Harry said evenly and calmly. "I didn't think I would be here, but I'm happy that people connected with Memento."
Harvey nodded, in a manner that was partly acknowledging Harry, and partly dismissive. Harvey was looking at Harry with a glimmer of fascination or intrigue but was not able to decide whether to look at Harry as a nuisance or to take Harry seriously.
Though their conversation remained polite throughout, the two men were clearly saying nice things to each other out of common courtesy and not sincerely; these were empty Hollywood niceties that have been accepted as a social norm and inflated to the level of celebrity currency.
But Harry felt beneath the surface of the words being exchanged between the two of them sensed the tension — in Harvey's smile tightening when Greg was present, in the subtle flicker of irritation when Nolan sidestepped a question regarding his upcoming project.
"So, Chris," Harvey said finally, glancing back and forth between them, "what's next for you? You produced something very unique with your film; I would love to produce your next work, as I'm sure you know how I treat my directors."
Greg looked at him, surprised, but Nolan kept his tone steady. "That sounds like a very kind offer," he offered cautiously; "but I'll probably want some time between projects once I finish Insomnia."
Harvey's smile thinned slightly. "Of course," he replied. "You'll be back before we know it! I can see you're not going to just sit back and relax during this time off."
He then cast Harry a quick, knowing glance that carried the aura of arrogance. It was an expression Harry recognized all too well and could feel from time to time when he was with Harvey; it was the look of a man who thought he was still the ruler of the world.
To relieve the mounting pressure in the air, Harvey turned to someone standing behind them. "Gentlemen, I would like to introduce you to someone who represents true artistry — Daniel Day-Lewis, the heartbeat of Gangs of New York."
Day-Lewis approached them with a sense of stature and purpose, shaking each of their hands with a sense of humility and authenticity, in contrast to Harvey's earlier, more hectic, and distracted handshake, which suggested a lack of sincerity. As opposed to Day-Lewis, Harvey's presence was electric and chaotic.
Harry said to Day-Lewis upon shaking hands, "It's an honor."
Day-Lewis humbly replied to Harry, "The honor is mine. You and your team did an amazing job with Memento. The fact that you did something and didn't tell the audience exactly what it was in the end is a very rare occurrence."
Nolan smiled and appreciated Day-Lewis's sentiments. "It means a lot to hear that from you."
After that were some claps on his shoulder, and while Day-Lewis was receiving claps from Harvey, Harvey appeared to be scanning the crowd for his next opportunity.
Harvey looked back at Day-Lewis and said, "Let's go create some history, boys!"
There was an immediate calming of the atmosphere after Harvey left. Nolan slowly exhaled.
Greg said with a chuckle, "That guy could talk an eagle down off its perch."
"Yeah," Harry said with a faint smile. "And that guy could talk God out of a day off."
Harry did not respond and instead concentrated on what was in Harvey's eyes as he had already determined that one day he would make Harvey look up to him from below.
-----
Steve Martin, the show's host, came in with a lively demeanor and his natural charm. As the orchestra played, all of the audience clapped loudly. The night continued with all of the beautiful gold Oscars shining under the bright lights of the stage.
As the awards were given, Harry had a hidden smile.
Chris Cooper was awarded the Oscar for Best Supporting Actor for Adaptation.
Nicole Kidman received Best Actress for her performance in The Hours; and Adrien Brody won the Oscar for Best Actor for The Pianist.
Roman Polanski, who was not present at the ceremony, took home the Oscar for Best Director for The Pianist, and the audience was divided with some cheering and some sitting in awkward silence.
With each award, each flash of the camera, and each scripted joke, it was as if a drum was holding the audience's anticipation for the major categories — the grand match-up of the titans.
Harry and Nolan would look at each other from time to time, both silently wondering if they would be experiencing that joy of winning an Oscar.
The tension in Greg and Nolan's row was palpable when the Best Original Screenplay award was presented. Greg was leaning over with his fingers intertwined, while Jonathan Nolan was on the verge of forgetting to breathe.
As the presenter began to open the envelope containing the winner, there was a loud cheer from the audience when- "The Oscar goes to Gangs of New York!"
As soon as Harvey Weinstein stood up, the smile on his face was massive. He was clapping his hands together in joy and had an air of being overly confident that seemed to stretch across the auditorium to the other side where Scorsese and his group were walking to the stage.
Harry clapped too, polite and steady. So did Nolan and Greg. But Harry could feel the sting anyway — not because they'd lost, but because of the smug tilt in Harvey's smile as he passed by, the unspoken of course I win.
"Don't let it bother you," Greg murmured, leaning closer. "You got Memento here. That's more than anyone expected. Hell, it's Chris's as director and you're sitting at the Oscars. That's a win."
Nolan acknowledged Greg's sentiment and agreed with him, adding to Jonathan, "he's right, the win was not about the actual win for Best Original Screenplay at this stage in our careers; rather, the fact we will have many more chances later."
Jonathan's forced smile did not go unnoticed when he said, "I thought we were going to make it."
Harry gave Jonathan a pat on the back. "You'll have plenty more. Just wait."
While Gangs of New York continued to win awards, including Best Art Direction and Best Costume Design, it seemed that the audience's excitement had increased as the evening progressed but at the same time it began to turn into disappointment for the loss of one award after another. Harvey's name has been repeated throughout the entire auditorium by every single actor to presenter tonight.
Harry sat silently for the remainder of the evening while watching and learning. Pretty much he wasn't sulking, he wasn't torturing himself. He was simply noting every detail of each winner, from who congratulated Harvey to who didn't congratulate him, then to which reporters smiled excessively when walking past Harvey.
Harry's own first movie, Providence, did not get a nomination; but what Providence had received was much more illustrious than a nomination — respect. Providence had been described by critics as having elements of "nervousness," being "ambitious," and being an "ambitious debut for a director so young;" at this time that was sufficient.
After Chicago won for Best Picture, Harvey was glowing. His handshakes, his posing for pictures, his kissing cheeks. Harry stood off in the corner of the room and watched this entire display with a slight grin on his face.
For Harry, it wasn't the point of winning tonight, he only needed to wait.
One day soon, he'd be the man people swarmed around. And when that day came, he'd make sure Harvey Weinstein looked up at him from his perfect little circle of champagne and envy.
He wasn't after the golden statue for vanity. He wanted the face Harvey made when he realized he'd been beaten.
Because everyone wanted the golden lady. But Harry?
Harry wanted revenge with style.