Entertainment: Starting as a Succubus, Taking Hollywood by Storm Chapter 922 - 897: The Practicality of Magic, Revisited

Christopher Nolan left with a satisfied grin.

On the drive back, Nolan mulled over Martin's approach of stationing the effects producers right by the soundstage, syncing effects creation with filming in real ti. He figured it could boost efficiency in a big way.

And it was so damn flexible—if a fresh idea sparked during a take, you could just holler for the effects team to tweak sothing off-cara on the spot.

Maybe I should borrow a page from that playbook.

For the next stretch, whenever Nolan had a free mont, he'd swing by Martin's set for a visit, soaking up the novel shooting techniques and cutting-edge tech like a sponge.

You had to hand it to the guy—success like his didn't co out of thin air.

At the very least, that genuine passion for film? Plenty of directors couldn't touch it.

As filming pressed on, Jessica's performance sharpened day by day.

This girl had been typecast in Hollywood as a pure eye candy, the ultimate vase. Truth was, everyone had underestimated her chops.

In the original tiline, the spotlight always fell on her looks and killer curves, landing her nothing but flowerpot roles. She rarely got a chance to flex her real talent.

But now? Martin was convinced she had legit Oscar gold in her.

In the original tiline, the lead in Gravity—Sandra Bullock—had a few off monts, especially in that flashback emotional breakdown scene. Her delivery ca off a tad stiff.

Martin thought Jessica nailed it better.

Of course, Sandra's stiffness might've stemd from those Botox jabs, leaving her face too frozen for subtle expressions.

Ti rolled into February 2013.

Leonardo wrapped his scenes and bounced from the set.

February 24, 2013.

Martin escorted Jessica to the 85th Academy Awards at Hollywood's Dolby Theatre.

Last year, his directorial effort The Avengers and yers' investnt The Hunger Gas snagged just a handful of technical nods, with slim odds on any wins. Those flicks were too entertainnt-heavy for the Academy's taste.

But yers Pictures' bets on Les Misérables and Life of Pi scread award bait.

And sure enough, Life of Pi swept four majors: Best Director, Best Cinematography, Best Visual Effects, and Best Original Score.

Les Misérables grabbed three: Best Supporting Actress, Best Sound Mixing, and Best Makeup and Hairstyling.

When Anne Hathaway took the stage for her Best Supporting Actress win in Les Mis, tears stread as she thanked everyone under the sun. That endless roll call of nas? It shattered Oscar records.

By the ti she got to thanking Martin, she tacked on that line that had beco the yers girls' tearful trademark: "I love you, Martin!"

The applause thundered.

This ti around, Anne dodged the original tiline's backlash—no dia mockery for her marathon speech. Instead, she got props for being "genuinely heartfelt."

That's the difference a solid backing makes.

In the original tiline, Anne had burned too many bridges thanks to her shady boyfriend's financial sches.

Even after he landed in the slamr, the grudge-holders couldn't let it go, dumping their rage on her.

Fair enough—she'd roped in plenty of industry cash for him, and folks lost big.

On a side note, the night's biggest highlight ca during the Best Picture announcent.

It wasn't revealed live at the Oscars, but at the White House in Washington.

First Lady Michelle Obama, decked out in a shimring silver gown, announced the Best Picture winner from the Oval Office.

Honestly, that dress? Not her best look—made her seem heavier than she was.

......

After the Oscars wrapped, Martin didn't dive straight back into filming.

He jetted off to New York instead.

Because his other lady, Jennifer Aniston, was pregnant too.

Talk about kids coming in threes!

Martin arrived at Jennifer's estate buzzing with excitent. Courteney Cox greeted him at the door...

Spotting Martin, Courteney said: "Jennifer didn't want to tell you this soon, but her morning sickness has been brutal—and she's no spring chicken anymore. I talked her into calling you. You won't hold it against , will you?"

"Of course not—hell, the opposite, darling. Thank you for looping in on this good news pronto." Martin cupped her lovely face and planted a scorching kiss.

Then, cheeks flaming, Courteney Cox shuffled back inside.

Jennifer Aniston lounged on the sofa, her pregnancy just starting to show—three, maybe four months along.

Seeing Martin stride in, she struggled to rise, but he bounded over and eased her back down. "We'll settle scores later for keeping this from . For now, park it—let listen to our little one."

With that, Martin dropped to a crouch, lifted the hem of her shirt, and pressed his ear to her belly.

Thump, thump...

He could hear the heartbeat inside, a rush of blood-bond connection washing over him.

Jennifer smiled down at Martin nestled against her, her face alight with affection. The sight tugged at her heartstrings.

Courteney Cox settled beside Jennifer, slipping an arm around her in a warm embrace. Tenderness filled the air as she murmured, "This is just perfect."

Martin stuck around New York for seven days before Jennifer shooed him off. "Go on, you've got work. I've got a pro dical team here—no worries."

He left, dragging his feet.

Courteney watched Martin's car vanish down the drive, then headed back in. Glancing at Jennifer—rosy-cheeked and glowing—she suddenly gasped: "Oh! Jen, did you notice? Ever since Martin showed up, you haven't heaved once."

Jennifer's eyes widened. "You're right!"

Of course, it was Martin's magic at work, tuning up his "love's" body.

The practicality of magic, revisited.