Chapter 131: Comedy Versus Horror

The Americans were about to start their summer vacation again, though they had barely attended class for a few days. Still, university courses in America were no joke. Unless you were exceptionally gifted, graduating with ease was simply impossible.

American universities really did follow the model of elite education. Getting into one might not be too difficult, but graduating smoothly was another matter entirely.

Fortunately, William White had no such worries. Even his professors did not particularly care whether he was late.

The trouble was that, now that he was no longer hanging around campus, the girls were rather disappointed. He was undeniably a prime catch, and when the opportunity arose, one should never let it slip away.

Beverly Hills Cop and The Shining opened on the same day, making the head-to-head confrontation unmistakable. Warner Bros. had gritted its teeth and put five million dollars into promotion.

One should never underestimate that figure. Spending that much on a horror film was already outrageous, considering that many horror movies earned only around ten million dollars at the box office.

The Shining was still an excellent film; Warner had simply lost its bearings. Horror films had a limited audience, so how could it possibly compete with Beverly Hills Cop at the box office?

They had also overlooked another problem: Black audiences tended to stick together. Other forms of support might not materialize, but watching one movie was hardly a difficult show of solidarity.

Once Friday’s box-office figures were announced, Warner fell completely silent. Beverly Hills Cop had taken in nearly six million dollars, while The Shining had earned less than one million. The two films were simply not in the same league.

Hollywood was rather surprised by the result. What astonished them, of course, were the numbers. Star Wars was still raking in money, yet William White had managed to achieve such results alongside it. It was practically unbelievable.

“Boss, here are today’s figures.”

Seeing the look on his subordinate’s face, Steve Ross had already given up hope.

“Go on.”

“Beverly Hills Cop made 7.12 million. The Shining made 750,000.”

“Hmm. Got it. You can go.”

His subordinate hurried away. It was not until some time later that Steve Ross emerged from his wrecked office and went home in a fury.

After only a week in theaters, William White had knocked Star Wars from the top spot. He certainly had every reason to be proud, although Star Wars had already been in theaters for a month, and a decline in its box office was inevitable.

But one had to remember that this was Star Wars. In America, it had practically no competition, and its production budget was far higher than that of Beverly Hills Cop.

“Ha ha, ha ha! The old man must be furious!”

A box-office sensation naturally called for a celebration. This time, the gathering was much livelier. Along with the cast and crew of Beverly Hills Cop came the cast and crew of Johnny English, as well as all his various friends and hangers-on. The scene at the party was easy to imagine.

White Pictures was celebrating its victory, while Warner Bros. was licking its wounds. This time, they had truly embarrassed themselves. Their attitude was a perfect example of provincial arrogance.

This was a swimsuit party, so there was no need to explain how chaotic things became.

William White was more cautious in that regard. Some diseases could not be cured, and at critical moments, it was better to keep one’s socks on. If anything went wrong, there would be nothing left to do but weep.

“Boss, you’ve disappeared three times already. Isn’t that a bit excessive?” Jason said with a lecherous grin.

“You wouldn’t understand. My production capacity has been unusually high lately. Before one batch of ammunition is used up, another one is already ready. It’s been quite a burden.”

“Damn, do you have to make it sound so exaggerated?”

“You don’t understand. I haven’t gone out to have fun lately. How am I supposed to compare with you bastards? If I don’t relax a little, I’m going to seize up.”

“Boss, what are you planning to do during the summer vacation?”

“Let’s go to the Bahamas. Those pink beaches are incredibly romantic. I wonder whether we’ll hurt ourselves when we’re, well, doing that.”

“You could always give it a try.”

“Good idea. We really should.”

The two men discussed where to spend their summer vacation while watching the men and women in the pool enthusiastically wear themselves out.

This really was the final frenzy of the era. Only when people were confronted with an incurable disease did they finally restrain their reckless behavior.

Some things were easy to let go of, but reining them back in was far more difficult.

All in all, the Americans’ way of life had dragged the whole world into misery.

No wonder the great Steve Jobs had once refused to acknowledge his own daughter. Perhaps the parties he attended had been just as chaotic. Who could really say?

With the party halfway over, William White had drunk too much again. His security guards and young assistant hurriedly escorted him back to the villa. If things continued, the situation would only become even more chaotic.

After enjoying a wake-up call from the Japanese girl, William White walked naked into the bathroom.

One had to admit that the Japanese had an excellent service ethic. Although she was plainly exhausted, she still cleaned him with great diligence.

Was this what people meant by a life of luxury?

There was, indeed, a difference between having someone look after you and having no one at all. Ever since he had acquired this Japanese assistant, William White’s quality of life had visibly improved.

The strangest thing was that the Japanese girl seemed to suffer from a severe case of Stockholm syndrome, which delighted him greatly. It always gave him the pleasant sensation of standing above everyone else.

White Pictures was already celebrating its victory. There was no real animosity in this competition. Warner Bros. had been soundly defeated at the very first exchange. Had the rival been another studio, it would almost certainly have lost half its screens.

But there was nothing to be done about that. Warner was a major studio, after all. Even so, if the film failed to improve this week, its number of screens would inevitably be cut in half.

“Hmm, the millet porridge is especially good today. Uncle Fu, where did this come from?”

“Young master, they brought it back from China yesterday,” Uncle Fu replied with a smile.

“Uncle Fu, I’ve always wondered why the Russians don’t grow better grain. They’re right next to China, aren’t they?”

“Young master, the Russians are rather lazy. Those lands have all been left uncultivated. There are hardly any people there.”

“Sigh. Those bastards. Fortunately, they’ve changed targets. Afghanistan is going to suffer now.”

“Indeed. Living next to them requires a strong heart.”

“Uncle Fu, buy more of this in the future. I like this porridge.”

“Of course, young master.”

Suzuki was not particularly accustomed to millet porridge. She had grown up in Australia, where people drank more milk than water. Perhaps that was why her skin was so remarkably fair.

No matter how late he stayed up the night before, William White always rose at exactly the same time, usually half past six. At seven, he began exercising, starting with some simple aerobic work before moving on to swimming and running.

Suzuki was curious about how he had so much energy. She rarely saw him tired, and once he got started, he seemed never to stop.

If only she could remain by his side forever.

William White sweated very easily, which was why he disliked summer. His sweat glands seemed to be concentrated around his head, leaving him perpetually drenched in perspiration. It was truly embarrassing.

“Suzuki, tell the marketing department to intensify the publicity campaign. Get in touch with those people who write film reviews.”

“All right, boss.”

After handing William White a bath towel, the young assistant turned and went to make the call.

William White had no intention of stopping while he was ahead. One had to strike a fallen enemy while he was down, because a fallen dog had no power to fight back.

As the box-office figures were released, Hollywood collectively chose silence. They genuinely had no idea what to say.

Once might be luck. Twice might be good fortune. But if that good fortune kept repeating itself, then it was clearly a matter of ability. Anything else would merely be a waste of emotion.