Cinema Palace

The Lueur Hall was a spacious theater that could accommodate over eight hundred people.

"Million Dollar Baby" was scheduled to be screened here.

One show in the afternoon and one in the evening, repeated every day until the end of the festival.

When the Warner Bros. team came over to deliver the detailed scheduling booklet, they seemed rather proud.

They had every reason to be proud; such treatment was top-notch during the entire Cannes screening period. Most films were lucky to have one screening per day, and some had screenings spaced several days apart. Distinctions were made.

Besides audience selection, backstage politics played a significant role in securing such prime treatment.

Fortunately, the organizers held this film in high regard.

One of the reasons was undoubtedly the success of "Miscreant".

It was because of their previous standout performance that the film had garnered this extra attention.

On the 21st, the weather was clear.

Lyman had spent the previous night chatting long-distance with Eva, their conversation carrying on until the wee hours of the morning.

When he woke up again, he couldn't help but linger in bed for a while.

After brushing his teeth, washing his face, and having breakfast, Lyman returned to his room to change into a new suit.

Filmmakers weren't particularly concerned about attire, but the film festival demanded it. It wasn't just about formality; it was a matter of etiquette. There were media outlets at the festival, creating an atmosphere, and sometimes, promotional photos were necessary.

Casual attire could give off a negative impression and lacked the required earnestness.

It was all about attitude. And then, it was about the film itself.

He carefully combed his hair and adjusted his tie before heading to the Cinema Palace.

Posters were displayed outside the screening hall. One of them featured Hillary in boxing gloves, striking a punching bag. The lighting was subdued, giving it a cool, ruthless texture. It was exquisitely done.

Lyman studied the poster for a while before entering the hall.

Warner Bros. personnel were engaged in conversation with an elderly Caucasian gentleman. When they spotted Lyman, they waved enthusiastically.

"Lyman, you've brought another work. I'm looking forward to it," the elderly gentleman was part of the festival's organizing committee and had met Lyman during the last screening of "Miscreant".

"Mr. Garrett, hello," Lyman greeted him.

There was still over half an hour before his film's screening.

Some of the attendees who had promised to attend were already there.

"Quentin..."

"Robert..."

First, Lyman spotted Quentin, who walked into the screening hall with a friendly wave, accompanied by his close friend Robert.

"Director Lyman..."

"Lyman."

Before long, Thomas and Hillary arrived together.

Don't misunderstand; they were staying at the same hotel.

Thomas was the same as ever, grinning from ear to ear as he stood by Lyman's side.

Hillary wasn't particularly beautiful, but she had put effort into her appearance today. She had applied light makeup on her face, giving her a touch of mature womanly charm.

If you hadn't seen her before and had only seen her today with her fierce determination and stylish attire, you might mistake her for a man, and Lyman would have believed it too.

On the streets and around the Cinema Palace, groups of fans and tourists were making their selections.

There weren't many films being screened today, only seven in total. Of these, "Million Dollar Baby" was the most renowned.

For the French locals, Lyman's name was even more familiar, and they loved recommending this film to foreigners or those unfamiliar with it. Even if they hadn't seen it themselves, it didn't stop them from offering their support.

So, Lyman chatted with some of the people who came to greet him while occasionally glancing at the incoming audience.

As the time drew nearer, the crowd continued to grow.

Before long, the theater was packed.

Those who couldn't secure tickets could only leave in disappointment.

As the time approached, the staff came over to remind everyone.

Amidst the applause, Lyman led the cast and crew to their seats in the front row.

"I wish I could do this more often," Olivier Assayas, seated among the guests, couldn't hide his excitement.

He greatly admired Lyman.

After all, as someone who had spent years in various film festivals, he understood how challenging it was to find a balance between commercial success and artistic depth. Who wouldn't want their films to have both depth and wide public appeal?

However, Maggie Cheung, who was sitting beside him, didn't share the same excitement.

She had been in the film industry for many years and had seen it all. Moreover, Lyman's films, when imported to the mainland or Hong Kong, only achieved a certain level of market success. Compared to that, people weren't usually too concerned about the foreign director of a movie.

Lyman? Perhaps he had a few fans, but after all, only a handful would bother to know more about him. Her mind wasn't on this, though; it was on herself.

She had underestimated the hidden sensuality of French men. These years of marriage had left her feeling exhausted.

She looked at Olivier again, which only strengthened her determination.

Perhaps it was better to end it.

In fact, "Clean" was Maggie's last film before her hiatus. Shortly after this film, her brief marriage also came to an end.

One by one, the lights on the ceiling dimmed.

The familiar butterflies.

The familiar flickering lights.

The vibrant colors had earned their right to capture the audience's attention.

The movie began.

In a small room, Eastwood sat at a desk, pulling out numerous envelopes from a drawer. He wrote letters to his daughter every day, sent them out, and received them back.

He wasn't good at expressing himself. He only had a boxing gym, which kept him company at all times.

The old man carefully put the envelopes back in place and stubbornly wrote another letter, one he knew would be returned.

The camera slowly zoomed in, focusing on the moon in the sky.

The moonlight was beautiful.

The movie's title suddenly appeared on the screen: "Million Dollar Baby".

Then, the screen flickered.

It shifted to a boxing ring.

Below were crowds cheering wildly, while on the ring were two muscular men exchanging punches.

Amidst the excitement, an untimely voiceover began.

Morgan Freeman's deep and magnetic voice, as if kissed by God, gradually unveiled the story.

"People love violence. They'll slow down at a car wreck to check for bodies. Same people claim to love boxing."

"They got no idea what it is."

He spoke in a matter-of-fact tone, as if explaining a simple fact. Like an aging boxer, in his twilight years, slowly lighting a cigarette and reminiscing about his past, sharing his perspective on boxing.

This narration continued, while one of the strong African-American men delivered a powerful and precise right hook that knocked his opponent down, leaving him unable to get up.

The emotions of the surrounding spectators instantly reached a climax.

Yet the calm narration continued.

"Boxing is about respect."

"Getting it for yourself... and taking it away from the other guy."

Among the crowd, a woman also watched it all with keen interest.