System Shocked (3)

By the third week of Swing in Chicago's release, the total cumulative audience had surpassed 3.5 million. At the box office, it had raked in approximately 16 million dollars. While this was an unprecedented success for an "indie film," industry experts all agreed it was well-deserved.

The casting of Sion Lee, an actor with a notoriously intense image in Hollywood. The dramatic transformation of a performer once dismissed as having zero acting ability. The overwhelming critical acclaim at the Sundance Film Festival, the undisputed mecca of independent cinema. This entire journey had played out in the media like a movie itself. Ultimately, with a premier indie distributor like Miramax backing the film and launching an aggressive marketing campaign akin to a major studio release, the current success was a natural result.

On top of that, the film got off to a record-breaking start, with newspapers running photos of massive crowds lining up outside theaters just to get a ticket. As Sion Lee made consecutive appearances on major broadcasts, including The Tonight Show, theaters naturally expanded their screenings. People all across America flocked to theaters to watch Swing in Chicago, and the vast majority left with glowing reviews.

One critic summarized the phenomenon: "If Sex, Lies, and Videotape opened the horizon for indie films, this movie is expanding the entire playing field."

The delicately woven, freezing winter of Chicago. The story of a paint factory worker unfolding within it. The meticulous direction tracking his rise and fall after getting entangled in a "throw-away crime" forced audiences to reflect deeply. The film's themes, setting, and the protagonist's plight mirrored the harsh realities of the era.

Furthermore, thanks to Sion Lee's mature lead performance and a suspenseful narrative that delivered genuine genre thrills, Swing in Chicago boasted an exceptionally well-balanced structure for an indie film.

Of course, there were still some who raised questions.

"Isn't the movie a bit confusing?"

"In what way? I thought it was pretty straightforward."

"I mean, what actually happened to the detective and Sion at the end? Did they die, or did they live?"

"What do you think?"

"Well... I don't know."

"I think they both died."

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"Why?"

"I don't know, it just felt like the natural conclusion to me."

"Then was the person Sion called even real?"

An ending that could be read in two completely different ways depending on interpretation, just as the director intended. However, by debating the open ending, audiences continued to engage with the film long after the credits rolled. This was exactly what both the lead actor, Sion Lee, and the director, Daniel Summit, had hoped for.

"The briefcase symbolizes desire."

"Really? I thought it represented hope."

"It's just a briefcase. Why overcomplicate things?"

Countless cinephiles held deep discussions, adding their own interpretations to the film. Sometimes, these debates ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠grew so heated that arguments broke out, prompting someone to yell:

"Go watch it again before you argue with me!"

It was a hilarious irony. The very people who used to swear they wouldn't watch a Sion Lee movie even if they were paid to do so were now buying tickets to watch his film multiple times. Yet, if it had only been the cinephiles, the craze wouldn't have reached such heights.

"We have to support Sion!"

"Yeah! If we watch it just one more time..."

"Oh my god, what do I do? Even with the weight gain and the beard, Sion is starting to look incredibly hot!"

Sion's massive female fanbase across the United States organized group viewings to watch the movie repeatedly. But while the nation was swept up in this frenzy, Sion himself was practically dying of exhaustion.

I'm so tired.

Returning home late in the early hours of the morning after wrapping up his schedule, he let out a long sigh and slumped onto the sofa. The house he had purchased to live happily with his mother was far too spacious for a single occupant. The sad part was that he had now grown completely accustomed to this emptiness.

Listening to the faint chirping of crickets outside, Sion idly noted that it was probably time to hire a gardener.

Promoting a movie was easily as grueling as filming it. An actor was the face of the film, which meant they had to put themselves out there—appearing on talk shows, variety programs, and public events to generate buzz.

I suppose I should be glad it's an indie film, so there are barely any public promotional events scheduled.

Usually, the production company coordinated with networks and theaters to set up appearances. This time, however, the networks themselves were constantly sending casting offers first, which made things... rather difficult.

Physically, his youthful body allowed him to endure the grind, but mentally, it was chipping away at him.

Everyone must have a hard time with this.

Every network tried to squeeze out ratings and juicy soundbites by asking roundabout, probing questions. Audiences were naturally drawn to that kind of sensationalism. It was especially exhausting when a host was known for pushing boundaries, shamelessly prying into his personal life, forcing Sion to constantly calculate the perfect, diplomatic responses.

So this is what it feels like to grow up without losing your looks.

Why on earth was everyone so obsessed with his love life? Of course, he couldn't entirely blame them. Ever since his return to Hollywood, Sion had been bombarded with countless "tempting" phone calls.

It was a call from some teen actor whose name he couldn't even remember.

And Sion's response to these invitations was always the same.

Ugh, what a pain.

Having to brush off these near-nightly calls with half-hearted excuses was a chore in itself. Hollywood was a wild kingdom. Countless stars, unable to cope with the stress of fame, succumbed to alcohol, cigarettes, drugs, and sex, losing themselves in endless, hedonistic parties. Before long, their careers would lie in ruins, forgotten by the public, and they would be easily replaced by someone else. This was especially true for those with mediocre talent.

In his past life, Sion had at least stayed away from cigarettes and drugs, even if he drank.

It was probably because of my mother.

He had always preferred coming home to eat his mother's special stew over partying all night. But if his face hadn't been ruined so quickly after her passing, he likely would have graduated from alcohol to drugs. Hollywood was crawling with people who, like coiled serpents, sought to corrupt stars or drag them down into the same mire. Yes, the past Sion, who believed he had lost everything in life, would have 100% succumbed to the temptation.

But not anymore.

Sion now had things far more important than alcohol, drugs, or women. He had his own life, which he could actively shape. He had his acting, and his path as an actor. So, when the telephone rang once again, he naturally assumed it was another party invitation. Formulating a polite rejection in his head, he picked up the receiver.

"Hello?"

"Charlie? What's going on at this hour?"

To his surprise, the caller was Charlie Kang. Normally, Charlie never called late at night unless he was inviting Sion over to his place for dinner. The fact that he was calling during his private hours, and with such a serious tone, made Sion wonder what on earth was happening.

"Oh, did you sell the agency? Congratulations!"

Charlie barked back at Sion's joke but chuckled anyway. Then, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠he continued in a boastful tone.

"He's the guy who lives next door to me."

"So, what about him?"

"...Wait, why him?"

Reaching the core of the matter, Sion's eyes widened in spite of himself.

The moment those words left Charlie's mouth, goosebumps erupted all over Sion's body.

Hollywood Hills.

An upscale neighborhood nestled in the Santa Monica Mountains of northern Los Angeles, its ridgeline was traversed by a long, winding road known as Mulholland Drive. Driving along this road—famous enough to inspire the title of a future masterpiece—evoked a strange sensation, as if he were crossing into the dreamlike city of Hollywood itself. Indeed, Hollywood Hills was an exclusive enclave reserved solely for the industry's elite. And one of its most prominent residents was Jack Nicholson.

Hollywood's quintessential character actor. A man who dominated the silver screen with his charismatic madness.

Easy Rider, Five Easy Pieces, Chinatown, One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, The Shining... His filmography is flawless. At this point in time, he must have wrapped up Chinatown's sequel right after Batman.

...Ten mouths wouldn't be enough to fully articulate the legendary status of the man.

A titan like him actually enjoyed my movie?

Just hearing those words was an immense honor.

The Hollywood sunshine beaming down on his convertible was absolutely spectacular. Filled with a mixture of anticipation and anxiety, Sion Lee arrived at the gates of the massive estate. Without stepping out of his car, he pressed the intercom. A voice crackled through the speaker.

"Hello. I'm Sion Lee. I have an appointment with Mr. Jack Nicholson."

With those brief instructions, the security gate swung open, revealing a secluded entrance that felt fittingly like the Joker's lair.

People actually started calling this place the 'Joker House' after Batman.

A man who had acquired absolute wealth and fame was bound to become obsessive about his personal sanctuary. Jack Nicholson had amassed a collection of bizarre artworks and decorated his home entirely to his own tastes. Inside the sprawling mansion, which featured a swimming pool, a bar, and a panoramic view of the entire Los Angeles basin, Hollywood's elite gathered almost every night to party.

I heard Jack Nicholson himself quite enjoyed cultivating that image.

Sion drove slowly along the driveway, admiring the sculptures scattered throughout ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the garden. Spotting a guest house right next to the parking area, he parked his car and walked over. He rang the doorbell, but there was no immediate response.

Should I wait?

Just as he decided to calm his nerves by taking a closer look at the nearby art pieces—

"Why do you think the Venus de Milo has a cloth draped over her lower half?"

Startled by the sudden voice coming from his side, Sion turned his head and widened his eyes. Lounging on a sunbed right next to the house, wearing dark sunglasses, was Jack Nicholson, slowly sipping a glass of whiskey.

"What's your take?"

"...Pardon me?"

"Over there. That one."

Following the direction of Jack's pointing finger, Sion spotted a statue standing near the garden entrance. It was the Venus de Milo, famous for her missing arms. Though it was undoubtedly a replica, Sion stared at the cloth draped exquisitely from her hips down and offered his own theory.

"To leave it to the imagination?"

"It means if you want to see more, you've gotta pay up."

"Ah."

Hearing his response, Sion realized that was certainly one way to look at it.

"Paying to see some pussy has been a time-honored tradition since ancient times. ...I'm talking about my girlfriend inside, by the way. Don't you dare repeat that to her."

"A gentleman's agreement, then."

"Hehehe... Yeah. I'm Jack Nicholson. And you are?"

"Sion Lee."

"Well, I already knew that. Care for a glass of whiskey?"

Just as Sion was about to say, No, thank you, I drove here, Jack placed a glass right down on the side table next to his sunbed. Sion wondered where the crystal glass and the whiskey had even come from, but he accepted the drink anyway.

"Take a seat on the sunbed. The weather's great, let's chat out here."

Sion did as he was told.

"I watched your movie. Good stuff. It's been a while since I actually went to a theater to watch something, which made it even better."

"If you had let me know beforehand, we could have arranged a private screening for you."

"That's not very 'indie,' is it? The whole point of the movie is that it breaks away from Hollywood's typical 'Hollywood-ness.' So, I wanted to watch it not as a Hollywood actor, but as a regular American citizen. Though I did get a bit pissed off at the box office when some idiot ran out of the theater shouting spoilers."

"You didn't chase him down?"

"My usual self would have, but I was in too good of a mood to watch a decent movie."

No matter how confident Sion usually was, being acknowledged by a legendary actor of this caliber was a first, and his face flushed slightly.

"Well, I think it falls a bit short of winning awards at Cannes or places like that. The director is clearly a greenhorn. He couldn't quite let go of his own ego. It felt like that placed some limitations on your acting as well. What do you think?"

"I simply did my best with the circumstances I was given."

Sion deliberately gave a non-committal answer. No matter how legendary the actor sitting next to him was, he had no intention of joining in on badmouthing a director he had worked with shoulder-to-shoulder. Hearing Sion's response, Jack smiled warmly, as if he had anticipated it.

"Just as I thought, you've got a good head on your shoulders. Exactly. Blaming others is just spitting in your own face."

"..."

"You definitely have the chops. A great actor has to put on a good performance in real life, too. I'd say you're responsible for over eighty percent of this movie's success. You had your hands in the acting, the marketing, the contracts—everything. You didn't just excel as an actor; your grasp of show business was absolutely brilliant."

Swirling the whiskey in his glass, Jack took another sip and continued.

"What do you think of Hollywood these days?"

"I'm not sure. I've been away filming in Chicago recently, so I'm a bit out of the loop."

Seeing Sion deflect the question so smoothly, Jack realized the young man before him was far more cautious than he let on.

Is this his real personality?

When Sion was running wild in Hollywood, getting away with absolute nonsense purely because of his handsome face, Jack had written him off as just another brainless brat. It seemed he had completely misjudged him.

He projects all these conflicting images, yet every single one of them fits him perfectly and feels authentic. He has the makings of a truly great actor. What an intriguing kid.

This realization only piqued Jack's curiosity further.

"Alright, let's cut to the chase. There's a wind of change blowing. The box office numbers for recent releases aren't what they used to be. Sure, the blockbusters still do well, but the overall average has dipped. It means people are starting to get sick of the 'same old flavor.' You know what I mean—those typical American movies stuffed to the brim with dreams and hope."

"Couldn't that also mean the horizon of cinema is expanding?"

"Well, you could look at it that way. In any case, that brings me to the offer I want to make you."

Flashing his trademark, devilish grin, Jack Nicholson made his pitch.

"How about starring in a movie I'm investing in?"