The people in the VIP lounge began to file out through the door, and the crowd thinned until, eventually, only Matthew and Spike Lee remained.
Just then, Matthew caught Paul Walker casting a worried glance in his direction. He shook his head slightly, signaling to Paul that everything was fine.
"Director Lee." Matthew, who had read a few press articles about Spike over the last two years, asked directly, "What is it you need?"
Spike Lee stood to his full height, cutting a more imposing figure than either Spielberg or Eastwood, but his tone was polite. "Matthew, are you pursuing Sofia?"
Matthew didn't deny it. "Miss Coppola is beautiful and talented," he replied. "What man wouldn't be taken with her?"
At this, Spike's eyes swept over Matthew's clearly superior features and physique. He considered Matthew's playboy reputation, weighed it against his own plans, and his tone hardened. "Stay out of my family's business."
Matthew's brow furrowed slightly at the director's bluntness, but he kept his expression neutral, replying nonchalantly, "I'm not interested in your family affairs."
"That's for the best."
Perhaps sensing a concession in Matthew's milder tone, Spike unconsciously adopted the sa authoritative air he used with actors on set. "I trust you're a man who understands the situation, Matthew."
Matthew smiled unexpectedly. Was that supposed to be advice or a warning?
Sofia was crucial to Spike's next move. And as a director who prided himself on his artistic style—not so faceless Hollywood hack—it was deeply unsettling to have soone openly admit, to his face, their intention to pursue his ex-wife.
This subtle psychological shift had inevitably colored his words.
Spike adjusted his glasses, his gaze landing on Matthew's face as he added, "There's sothing else you should listen to."
Matthew smiled and shook his head, brushing off Spike's veiled warning, which struck him as unnecessarily aggressive.
At this point in his career, he had no desire to start a feud with anyone, but he wasn't afraid of it either.
Spike looked as if he was about to speak again, but Matthew raised a hand to stop him. "Let's just leave it there. Director Lee, there's no need to go on."
With that, he turned, ready to head into the theater to see "Flags of Our Fathers."
"Wait!" Spike saw that Matthew wasn't taking him seriously at all. He hadn't been certain before, but now it was clear the actor truly had designs on Sofia. His voice rose again, sharper this ti. "Matthew, I'll say it again: stay out of my family's affairs!"
Matthew stopped and turned back. "And I'll repeat myself. I am not interested in your family affairs."
The words were the sa, but his tone was far more dismissive than before. He glanced at Spike and added, "Though, if I heard correctly, Sofia said you two have been divorced for a long ti."
Spike's expression remained unchanged as he stared intently at Matthew. "We'll be back together soon."
Matthew shrugged. "Maybe my hearing is off, but it seed pretty clear that Sofia didn't want to speak with you."
"What's between Sofia and ..." Spike's tone hardened, his directorial arrogance on full display, "is no business of any outsider."
He sneered slightly. "You think I don't know who you are?"
"And who is that?" Matthew asked, completely at ease. "A playboy? A scoundrel?"
He spread his hands. "Have you ever heard a single woman speak ill of
after we parted ways?"
Spike opened his mouth, but nothing ca out. He couldn't recall a single one of Matthew's ex-lovers saying anything negative about him, not in the major newspapers and not in the gossip columns.
Matthew sighed and turned, ready to leave for good this ti.
"You're just using them!" Spike folded his arms, certain he'd grasped the obvious truth. "Using those naive won to get ahead in your career."
"I'm using them?" Matthew paused, feigning surprise.
If anything, it was the other way around, wasn't it?
Matthew studied Spike Lee. Sure, so directors looked down on actors, but why was this one—a big na in his niche—so intent on pursuing Sofia Coppola?
It only took Matthew a few seconds to piece it together. He spoke with deliberate calm. "Using won to get ahead in your career? Director Lee, do you assu all n are like you?"
Since Spike wasn't being respectful, Matthew dropped the polite pretense. "Dare I ask why you married Sofia in the first place? Was it for her, or for the Coppola na?"
Hearing this, Spike's face darkened.
Matthew imdiately pressed his advantage. "I see. You married Sofia, enjoyed the financial backing of the Coppola family, and watched your directing career skyrocket. Then, once you were a famous director in your own circle, you decided you didn't need them anymore and divorced her. But now that your career has stalled, you're trying to get her back so you can keep riding on her family's coattails."
At those words, Spike couldn't contain himself. "You... you're talking nonsense!"
He said it with a heavy heart; so of what Matthew had accused him of had indeed been true back in the day.
Matthew had only been speculating, but such scenarios were far from uncommon in Hollywood.
Seeing Spike's reaction, he knew he'd hit a nerve.
"You know better than I do whether it's nonsense or not, Director Lee." Matthew mimicked Helen's stern, judgntal tone. "You just rode your wife's coattails to the top."
As he spoke, another thought struck him. He rembered reading that Spike Lee had released a well-received film earlier that year. Now he was trying to reconcile with Sofia. Connecting the dots...
"You're a director with an arthouse sensibility, and if I recall, you had a well-received film co out this year. Awards season is just a month away. If the Coppola family were to throw their weight behind you, you'd have a real shot at so trophies, right?"
An expression of undisguised astonishnt crossed Spike's face.
Matthew looked at him and added, "So, there it is. You're just a parasite who directed his way to the top."
With that, Matthew fell silent and turned toward the theater entrance.
This ti, Spike stood rooted to the spot, not calling out, just watching Matthew's retreating back.
When Matthew entered the screening room, an usher led him to his seat. Most of the guests were settled in the rows just behind the first. As he found his assigned spot, he saw Sofia sitting next to Kirsten Dunst.
"Could we switch seats, Miss Dunst?" Matthew whispered to the actress.
Kirsten glanced at Matthew, smiled, then turned to murmur sothing to Sofia. Turning back to him, she said, "No problem."
As she swapped seats with Matthew, she shot Sofia a subtle wink.
They were all part of the sa circle; there was no need for pretense about certain things.
Sofia had been indifferent to Matthew at first, but after their brief conversation, her opinion of him had improved considerably.
"What did Spike say to you?" Sofia asked in a whisper.
Matthew settled into his seat, adjusting the back. "Nothing important," he said.
Sofia leaned a little closer. "Whatever he said, don't take it seriously."
Matthew changed the subject to the film. "I was reading the paper this morning, and it said there's a companion film to 'Flags of Our Fathers'?"
Sofia knew about it and nodded slightly. "Yes, Clint fild a companion piece about the Battle of Iwo Jima from the Japanese perspective. He shot them back-to-back. It's called 'Letters from Iwo Jima'."
Matthew nodded.
He hadn't seen either film. Once the movie began, Sofia stopped talking, and Matthew turned his full attention to the screen. Clint Eastwood, an actor by trade, had beco one of Hollywood's A-list directors.
It was rare to see soone reach the pinnacle of both acting and directing, though his two careers hadn't exactly run in parallel. Clint Eastwood's professional life could be split into two distinct halves: the first devoted to acting, the second to directing.
Throughout the film, Matthew and Sofia exchanged a few whispered words, and the initial awkwardness of their introduction gave way to an easy rapport.
When the film ended, they filed out of the screening room together. Sofia turned to Matthew and said, "I believe I promised to buy you tea earlier. Are you free now?"
In typical Matthew fashion, how could he possibly say no?
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