Pushing open the car door, Jas Hols slung a worn-out long backpack over his shoulder. Inside was an AR-15 rifle. After slightly adjusting the backpack, he left the parking lot and, under the bright lights, walked unimpeded into the Santa Monica Shopping Plaza.
It was already past midnight. There weren’t many people in the plaza, and even the few who saw Jas Hols’ bizarre clown costu didn’t find it strange—there were too many people dressed like that tonight.
Before nine o’clock in the evening, Jas Hols had already visited the Santa Monica Shopping Plaza, chosen the theater and the hall where he would act. Now, without any hesitation, he walked through the long corridor and directly entered the open-style cinema.
There weren’t many people in the cinema’s lobby. The Dark Knight Rises had already been playing for nearly thirty minutes; most of the moviegoers were already inside the halls.
The staff mber behind the ticket counter glanced at Jas Hols, then lowered his head and continued his work. To him, this was just another ordinary, fanatical movie enthusiast.
As a graduate student from a prestigious university, Jas Hols was definitely sharp-minded. He didn’t try to conceal anything, striding openly toward the hall he had scouted. Halfway there, when no one was watching, he quickly left the corridor and turned into a nearby ergency passage. After scanning his surroundings, he unzipped his backpack, took out the AR-15 rifle, and flipped off the safety.
He then felt for the Colt pistol beneath his purple jacket and strode toward the IMAX theater’s ergency exit.
Standing outside the safety door, he could hear the thrilling background music inside, which only made his blood boil even more.
It didn’t take much effort for Jas Hols to open the safety door. Moving like a trained commando, he entered the theater through the ergency exit. His movents were clean and efficient, not drawing any attention.
No one noticed him—every viewer was fully absorbed in The Dark Knight Rises.
Perhaps by coincidence, when Jas Hols entered the theater, it happened to be during the first gunfight scene of the movie.
Jas Hols took out the prepared tear gas grenade. Pulling the pin, he hurled it toward the center of the theater, then raised the rifle, aid at the nearest few people, and with "controlled burst" technique, easily made dazzling blooms of blood appear.
The gunfire rang out, but no one noticed. Jessica Garvey heard the shots, thinking they were just sound effects from the film—until the choking smoke drifted over and terrified screams echoed. Having lived through a shooting incident before, she imdiately realized she was facing the sa nightmare again.
Gunshots, screams, cries of agony—these sounds finally drowned out the film’s audio. Countless people scrambled in panic to escape, leading to a stampede tragedy.
Seeing the spurting blood, hearing the terrified wails, and watching the chaotic crowd, Jas Hols grew even more excited. At this mont, he believed he was the Joker. The great Joker might have been murdered by Batman’s fans, but now, fueled by flas of vengeance, the Joker had been reborn through him.
"I am the Joker!"
Amid the gunfire ca Jas Hols’ crazed laughter. "I am the Joker! The Joker has returned!"
The theater was too chaotic, and there were too many people. Jas Hols abandoned precision bursts and began sweeping with the AR-15. He didn’t know how many people he hit—after emptying one magazine, he pulled out his Colt pistol and kept firing into the crowd.
Listening to the surrounding chaos, Jessica Garvey was already lying on the floor. Sharp, burning pain ca from her leg and head. Staring at the ceiling, she felt the patterns above blur, while a man’s voice beside her shouted for her to hold on.
Darkness crept into her vision. For so reason, Jessica Garvey suddenly thought of Final Destination. She had escaped death once in Toronto—was she now unable to escape death’s pursuit after all?
Then she lost consciousness.
At the ergency exit, Jas Hols had already emptied his pistol. He knew the police must have been called by now; they would arrive soon. Without hesitation, he turned and ran out through the safety door, sprinting along the long passage toward the plaza’s exit.
Perhaps it was bad luck—or fate—but the escape route Jas Hols had planned was blocked. One of the mall doors had been closed and locked for the night. He had no choice but to take a detour, returning to where his car was parked. Before he could start the engine, several police cars surrounded him.
When facing unard civilians, Jas Hols had been as arrogant as the Joker himself. But when facing the police?
Reality is not a movie. The self-proclaid reborn Joker, Jas Hols, didn’t even wait for SWAT to arrive. Without any real resistance, he was handcuffed by several officers.
"I am the Joker!"
As he was shoved into the police car, Jas Hols was still shouting madly.
Before the car even left the Santa Monica Shopping Plaza, large numbers of reporters and paparazzi had already sward in. They quickly uncovered the story of the "Joker" massacre. In this age of the internet, no one could suppress such news—at least not on this land.
Not far from Santa Monica, Malibu was unusually quiet. The eye-shaped mansion in Duke’s estate was completely dark. In the master bedroom on the top floor, Duke was fast asleep. In his dream, he seed to have flown across the Pacific Ocean, finding the version of himself living in that sa period.
At that ti, he was rely a mid-level pyrotechnics supervisor in a small film crew—ambitious, dreaming of becoming a director. He planned to make his mark in television first, then move on to film, hoping to beco a sowhat successful film director before the age of fifty.
If he could gain so international recognition, that would be enough to make him laugh in his sleep.
Back then, he even dread of leading Chinese cinema to the world stage. But he knew very well—that dream wasn’t sothing one person could accomplish.
Perhaps the dream shifted into reality. Duke suddenly woke up. Opening his eyes, he looked to his side—Scarlett Johansson was still sound asleep.
Turning toward the pitch-black window, Duke couldn’t help recalling the dream he’d just had. If he weren’t in Hollywood but in China, perhaps he could still beco one of the industry’s top directors—but leading Chinese cinema to conquer the world? Impossible.
He had read many such claims before—people saying they would "replicate Hollywood films into Chinese films."
Oh... the idea sounds beautiful, but cultural differences aren’t sothing solved by words. Even if one ignored the cultural gap, ignoring that this is a world dominated by Western values and culture, without an integrated industry chain, without a mature agent system, without a perfected production frawork, without an advanced visual effects industry, without a powerful financing environnt...
These are things that absolutely cannot be accomplished by one person alone.
Shaking his head, Duke dismissed these thoughts and fully returned to reality, his mind shifting back to the far more practical Hollywood.
Hollywood had been developing smoothly for so many years, but in fact, it had already reached its ceiling—the North Arican market could no longer expand.
To break through that ceiling, it’s easy to see that Hollywood has started doing many things. The international market has beco increasingly important for Hollywood, especially the ever-expanding Chinese market. In order to attract Chinese audiences, Hollywood’s major creative teams now routinely hold premieres in China—it has beco a standard configuration—and all kinds of marketing stunts keep erging one after another.
At the sa ti, Hollywood has been getting closer and closer to Silicon Valley. Netflix, Amazon, and even Apple have all beco Hollywood’s partners.
From licensing distribution channels to content collaboration and even technological innovation, Silicon Valley—with its new technologies—has begun to influence Hollywood’s developnt.
Of course, even though Hollywood has reached its own ceiling, it remains the most developed film industry in the world.
Now, many professional critics, unwilling to remain silent, have started voicing their opinions again. They argue that Hollywood’s mature genre films and blockbuster model have beco shackles that suppress creativity. They claim Hollywood is increasingly lacking in originality and creative ability, that blockbusters, big productions, cinematic universes, and sequels have completely beco Hollywood’s mainstream, while films that attempt innovation in the or form all end up suffering miserable box office failures.
However, these people deliberately ignore one fact—the failure of these so-called innovative films in the or form is not a choice made by the studios, but by the market. To be precise, it is the choice of the audience themselves!
What the mainstream audience likes to watch, and what kind of movies they’re willing to spend money on—Hollywood will cater to those demands. If mainstream audiences preferred art films, Duke could guarantee that in the next few years, there would hardly be any major comrcial blockbusters in the sumr season; instead, a long line of art films would be queued up waiting for release.
A Hollywood film’s box office is only part of its inco—this is sothing almost everyone understands. But so people overlook that, in this era, box office performance forms the foundation for all subsequent revenue.
When a film performs well at the box office, its DVD, online streaming, and television rights can all sell for high prices. Naturally, rchandise sales will follow, and image licensing will co effortlessly.
But if a film only grosses a few million dollars, can anyone really expect its DVD, online, or television rights to sell for high prices?
Few of the businesses revolving around this industry are fools. Moreover, with the dollar’s continued depreciation, films that rely on years of rchandise sales to finally turn a profit leave their producers wanting to cry without tears.
Just as Duke’s thoughts were drifting and he was about to fall back asleep, a series of urgent knocks suddenly echoed from the door.
The knocking woke Scarlett Johansson. She turned over and muttered, "Who is it?"
Soone knocking on their door this late could only be one of two people—either the housekeeper Emma, or Tina Fey, who often stayed at Duke’s estate. If either of them had co knocking, it definitely ant sothing urgent had happened.
..
Hi For access to additional Chapters of
Director in Hollywood (40 chpaters)
Made In Hollywood (60 Chapters)
Pokemon:Bounty Hunter(30 Chapters)
Hollywood:From Razzie to Legend(40 Chapters)
The Great Ruler (30 Chapters)
Join pateron/Translaterappu
Reviews
All reviews (0)