Not My Type (1)
January 28, 1995, the Golden Globe Awards.
On stage, Olga Asimov, stunning in a crimson gown, spoke into the microphone.
It was a moment of breathless tension—the announcement of the Best Supporting Actor in a Motion Picture for the year 1994.
The grand hall was filled with round tables, each occupied by Hollywood royalty dressed to the nines in sharp tuxedos and elegant gowns. These were the faces that defined modern cinema. Dozens of NBC cameras captured their expressions from every conceivable angle, broadcasting the live feed across the nation.
And right in the middle of it all, Sion Lee casually sipped his champagne.
As always, he was playing the part of the charmingly arrogant brat, leaning back with his legs crossed. Watching the live broadcast, millions of viewers couldn't tear their eyes away from him, his hair perfectly slicked back with pomade, looking effortlessly devastating in his tuxedo. Although several media outlets were currently attempting a smear campaign against him, their schemes held little power when confronted with the sheer brilliance of his physical presence.
"Whoa..."
"If he hugged me with those arms, my heart would literally stop."
"Ah, don't cut away! Show more of Sion!"
The screen cut back to the stage. Olga Asimov smiled, her voice carrying a hint of personal warmth as she read the name.
A triumphant fanfare erupted. The orchestra swelled, and the crowd burst into applause. The camera immediately cut back to Sion.
He sat there looking momentarily bewildered. But as his co-stars, Mickey Rourke and Frederic Patterson, clapped and nudged him forward, he hastily grabbed something from the table, stood up, and walked gracefully up to the stage.
The 1995 Golden Globe Awards. Millions of viewers watching from behind their screens, and the galaxy of Hollywood stars gathered in the room—all of them looked up at him.
Sion accepted the trophy from Olga and stepped up to the microphone to deliver his acceptance speech.
"Uh..."
Sion Lee, the notorious Hollywood brat who had been relatively quiet lately but was clearly starting to rev his engines again. Given his iconic stunt at the MTV awards, everyone in the audience was practically leaning forward in anticipation of what he would say.
Sion raised an index finger, gesturing for them to wait a moment, and pulled a crumpled piece of paper-like object from his pocket. It was the classic acceptance speech cheat sheet that almost every actor prepared. He stared at it blankly for a second, then stuffed it right back into his pocket.
He leaned into the microphone.
"I prepared something in anticipation of a moment like this, but it doesn't seem to fit the overwhelming emotions I'm feeling right now. A lot of people gave me advice. Olga Asimov, who just handed me this award, Jack Nicholson, and many of the actors I'm filming with right now... They all told me that in the end, whatever I prepared would be meaningless. At the time, I thought, 'Yeah, right, easy for them to say since they've won so many times.'"
The crowd burst into laughter at his bold, unfiltered remark.
"But now that the moment is here, I realize they were absolutely right. It really is meaningless."
Instead of reading a rehearsed script, Sion calmly shared his genuine feelings. He spoke with deep gratitude and warmth, occasionally weaving in his signature wit. The audience listened, utterly charmed by the sincerity of his words in the warm, festive atmosphere.
He speaks so well. Yes, that's exactly how an acceptance speech should be.
He's definitely matured. He's growing up.
The viewers watching at home were equally touched.
"Oh, he threw away his prepared speech to speak from the heart?"
"You can feel the sincerity...!"
Almost everyone in the room looked up at the stage with bright, admiring smiles.
Except for one person.
I... I saw it...!
A man desperately hiding his shocked face, unable to utter a single word. His name was Frederic Patterson.
He had clearly seen it. The moment Sion Lee's name was called, Sion had casually grabbed a paper napkin from the table and stuffed it into his pocket. Then, on stage, he had pulled it out as if it were a prepared speech, put it back, and declared, "I won't be using this."
I definitely saw it!
The sheer audacity of Sion Lee, lying through his teeth without even blinking, even during an acceptance speech!
But Frederic couldn't bring himself to reveal the truth. The man on stage, Sion Lee, was shining far too brightly.
...If I open my mouth, that guy will find some bizarre way to torment me again.
And besides, revealing it wouldn't benefit him in the slightest.
The second trophy was placed next to the photo of his parents.
Well, the third if you counted the Golden Raspberry. Though he had no idea where those first two were stuffed away.
I should probably get a display cabinet soon.
Even though it was his second major award, he had excitedly bragged to his late parents like a thrilled child. Sion stared at the trophy—a film strip wrapping around a golden globe. The metal engraving on the plaque caught his eye:
Golden Globe, Best Supporting Actor, Sion Lee, 1995.
The pride and joy it brought gave him an indescribable high. Sion stared at it blankly for a moment, then picked it up again. The memory of raising it high above his head and shouting "Thank you!" to the crowd replayed in his mind.
It's a good thing I prepared for it, at least.
He hadn't wanted to get his hopes up, so he hadn't agonized over a speech, but perhaps because he was living as an actor, just having a rough outline of "how to play it" allowed him to pull it off flawlessly. Even if he forgot the paper and had to use a table napkin.
This is more than enough.
Winning a Golden Globe for Best Supporting Actor in a superhero movie in 1995. He had thought the chances were slim. In this era, unlike the future, superhero movies were closer to a minor genre. In fact, except for the Batman franchise, most superhero content went straight to video rental stores.
Winning under these circumstances made it all the more significant. The movie wasn't Batman, and he wasn't an A-list actor yet. But he won. The special feeling of having his acting and his film recognized.
Many phone calls came in to congratulate him.
"Bwahaha! Congratulations, Sion Lee! Best Supporting Actor! And for playing Lucid, no less! ...But damn, times really are changing, aren't they? To think the day would come when a superhero movie wins a Golden Globe. Ha! It's a beautiful, strange world."
Jack Nicholson's boisterous praise was followed by another call.
"Didn't I tell you? There was no one else who deserved it more. Congratulations. This is your year. I hope you keep this momentum going... and I hope our movie does just as well. Haha."
It was a calm, encouraging message from Olga Asimov, with whom he had just finished filming a movie.
"Sion, you are truly a magical person. Congratu—oh, I'm sorry. I'll call you back later."
Even Michael Jackson, despite his incredibly busy schedule, called to offer his congratulations.
Many others he had built relationships with over the years reached out. Even some people he had worked with before his regression, with whom he was still a bit distant, called to congratulate him.
The media splashed Sion Lee's win across the front pages. Even though Pain Walker had grossed over $300 million, ranking third in the 1994 domestic box office behind The Lion King and Forrest Gump, no one expected such a genre-heavy film to win a major award. As a result, the public began to feel a certain "distance" from Sion Lee.
"That brat, when did he get so good?"
"Seriously. Who would've thought he'd win Best Supporting Actor?"
He still lived in the house he bought to live with his mother, but everything else, starting from his car to the scale of his sponsorships, had completely changed. Even without trying, Sion found himself wearing luxury clothes and dining only at the finest restaurants, seemingly reaching a realm untouched by the general public.
Time flowed on, and by February, news of a certain movie began to spread among the public.
"Huh?"
"Wait, is this the movie he's been filming lately?"
"Didn't they say he was filming Batman as Lucid?"
"I guess that's coming out later..."
The public's reaction to the promotional poster and teaser was mostly bewilderment. The image featured a pouting Sion Lee in the center, with his hands held by a child's hand on one side and a woman's hand on the other.
The next movie from the man with the most sophisticated image in Hollywood right now was... surprisingly, a romantic comedy. And not just any romantic comedy, but one that felt closer to a family movie.
The real issue was his female co-star.
"Whaaat?!"
"Olga Asimov?!"
"Is he insane?! What the hell is Sion Lee thinking?!"
"First the daughter, and now he's doing romance with the mother? This guy is unreal..."
Most people directed their arrows at Sion Lee rather than Olga or Elena. After all, his "brat" image was starting to build up again. Recently, he had smashed a persistent paparazzi's camera with a baseball bat and paid him off on the spot. Because of this, audiences were simultaneously seeing two contrasting sides of Sion Lee.
A talented actor and passionate showman, yet a troublemaker and brat in his daily life. They couldn't understand why he acted this way, but they were certainly intrigued by his contradictory behavior. And that was exactly what a superstar was supposed to be.
A talented actor capable of winning a Golden Globe and driving a Porsche 911. At the same time, a wild celebrity causing all sorts of trouble with paparazzi.
The first teaser for his next movie burst forth, blending both of these images.
The first teaser, narrated by a deep-toned male voiceover over a black screen, was simple, showcasing the handsome actor Sion Lee as he was. If not for the Not My Type logo at the end, one could easily believe it was just a documentary of Sion's actual life.
The problem was the second teaser, released a week later.
"What is this... Olga is playing a single mother?"
"They're doing a rom-com? Seriously? How?"
The public's reaction grew hotter. The movie's plot and casting were heading in a completely unexpected direction. Hollywood superstar Sion Lee. Olga Asimov, a legendary actress of television. Furthermore, considering that Sion and Olga's daughter, Elena, had played his love interest twice before, and rumors of their real-life romance were still circulating... this was an incredibly loaded casting choice.
By the time the second teaser had successfully heated up the atmosphere, it was a month before the release. Sion, along with Olga, began promoting Not My Type by appearing on radio shows across the country.
"This movie was honestly so exhausting to shoot," Sion said.
"Yo, yo! Sion! What made it so hard, ma buddy?"
The host of the Fun Fire Freak Show, DJ Steve. As a lively Black DJ, he was hosting with far more energy than usual, thrilled to have guests of such high caliber—Sion Lee, whose status had skyrocketed over the past few years, and the legendary Olga Asimov. Matching the high-energy vibe and the status of his fellow guest, Sion spoke in a lighter, playful tone.
"Obviously, because I was acting with Olga. I'm usually not the type to be led, but..."
"Oh, please," Olga chimed in. "I actually learned a lot from Sion. As everyone knows, this young man's acting is truly something else. I can't tell you how many times I burst out laughing during filming. The moment I laughed the hardest was..."
"Ooh, laughed the hardest? What was it?!" DJ Steve leaned in, eager for gossip.
Olga hesitated for a moment, looking slightly embarrassed. "...Hmm, I wonder if I should say this?"
"I think that much is fine," Sion naturally took over and answered for her. "I know exactly what you're talking about. The part where Olga laughed the hardest."
"Oh, tell us! What is it?"
"My butt was slightly... Yeah. I'll stop there."
"Ah, what?! Your butt?! Tell us more!"
"No way, no way. Gotta watch out for spoilers. But you can definitely look forward to it. It's absolutely wild."
Sion gave a highly ambiguous answer. The provocative wording quickly spread among the listeners.
"Sion Lee's butt is going to be in it!"
"Really...? Was it a movie with that much exposure?!"
"Come on, how many times has that guy talked like that? It might not mean what you think."
"Who cares! I'm clearing my schedule for the premiere!"
The casting combination of Sion Lee and Olga Asimov was already impactful enough, but when combined with the low-budget, grass-roots marketing banter, public expectation soared far beyond what the executives had anticipated.
To dispel any misunderstandings, the final trailer released two weeks before the premiere used the warm tones and editing characteristic of 90s cinema to firmly imprint the idea that this was a heartwarming, hilarious family movie.
And so, March 7 arrived. The moment Not My Type opened, it was only natural that crowds swarmed the theaters.
"Did you expect it to turn out like this?"
In a private cafe near the theater, Olga, wearing sunglasses, asked. Sion chuckled and replied,
"It needs to do even better than this."
"My, the promotional budget wasn't even that high, so I think this level of excitement is already incredible."
"Even without us making a fuss, the movie's premise alone is enough to get people excited. And..."
"And?"
"I literally bared my butt and even set it on fire. Once word of mouth spreads, the interest will only grow."
In the industry, low-budget comedy films were generally perceived as projects that could achieve "moderate, stable success." But Sion took it for granted that this film would far exceed those expectations.
Of course, because it's a project I did with Olga.
Leveraging the ticket power of both actors, it was exactly the kind of film the public wanted right now. On top of that, it featured his first-ever comedic, self-deprecating performance, backed by a legendary actress. It wasn't an incredibly profound film, but it was highly entertaining and genuinely good.
And it was delivering exactly as expected.
"Pfft, hahaha!"
"Ahahaha-!"
Inside the theater showing Not My Type, the audience was completely helpless against Sion Lee's comedic performance from the very beginning, bursting into fits of uncontrollable laughter that echoed through the hall.