Just as Duke reached the entrance to the backstage, he was stopped by someone. "You can’t go in here."
It was clear that the person didn’t recognize him at all. This could be considered the tragedy of directors in this era; apart from when their films are wildly popular or controversial, the average audience rarely pays attention to the directors behind the scenes. It’s not uncommon for fans of a director’s films to not know what the director looks like.
Duke felt a bit helpless. After coming here with his mother last night, he had specifically checked the poster for "42nd Street." Sure enough, the familiar name was there. Now, he had come back to see if he could meet an actress, but he was blocked.
"I’m a director and I want to find one of your actresses to star in my work."
This was Duke’s true purpose, but the person in front of him clearly didn’t believe it. Probably, there had been many scammers who came claiming the same thing in the past.
"Who are you looking for? I can pass the message along."
"I’m looking for Miss Jones." Duke handed over a business card. "This is my card."
The person didn’t look surprised; instead, they examined Duke with a skeptical gaze, seemingly unable to believe that the director who had made such a huge impact this summer could be so young.
"Please wait a moment." Perhaps the business card did work; the person whispered to a colleague and turned to walk inside.
The backstage of the theater was not as glamorous as the stage and was even a bit shabby. In a cramped makeup room, several young women were busy removing their makeup. Among them, the fastest was already taking off her stage makeup, preparing to apply a light foundation.
She was very aware of her strengths and weaknesses. With the right light makeup, she could appear radiant; without it, she looked pale and lackluster.
A knock suddenly sounded at the door. Someone opened a crack and exchanged a few words with the person outside before retreating.
"Kate, this is for you."
The woman seemed indifferent to her relationship with the person outside and casually tossed a card onto the vanity in front of her.
"Another admirer of yours?"
A plump young woman nearby, seemingly close to her, picked up the card. "Kate, your previous admirers used to send cards mixed with flowers and gifts. It’s rather unthoughtful of someone to just send a business card."
"Whatever they send, it all goes to one place for me."
The woman named Kate seemed unconcerned. "That’s the trash can, isn’t it, Rachel?"
"That’s only because the person who impressed you didn’t show up."
Rachel shrugged, turning back with a fleeting mocking smile. She knew that the woman beside her, despite her Hollywood setbacks, still had lofty ambitions.
"Maybe the person who sent the card is a great Hollywood director!" she said next, her sarcasm only for herself to hear.
But when she flipped the card over and saw only a name, profession, and phone number, her eyes widened in disbelief.
This couldn’t be real, could it? The famous director of Hollywood, the most prominent rising star, was really waiting outside for this woman?
Instinctively, Rachel wanted to throw the card into the trash can at her feet.
But she was smart. Kate wasn’t an idiot either, and she moved closer without revealing her intentions. "Whose name could make you so surprised?"
As she spoke, she casually took the card back.
Before Kate could see the name on the card, Rachel suddenly exclaimed, "Hey, girls! I have amazing news! Kate just received a business card from Hollywood director Duke Rosenberg!"
There was no outburst of cheers in the makeup room, nor was there the sisterly celebration one might expect; the others either looked doubtful or incredulous, their eyes mostly filled with jealousy and indifference.
"Congratulations, Kate! Another opportunity to go to Hollywood."
The sudden comment seemed to be congratulatory but was laced with suppressed undertones. "I hope this time you return as a success."
Kate seemed to ignore the words, her gaze sharp as it flicked across Rachel’s face. That one sentence had made her the enemy of the makeup room.
Moreover, whether the card was real or not was still unknown. If it turned out to be fake, she would undoubtedly be mocked by these women continuously.
"Kate, I didn’t mean anything else..." Rachel feigned innocence.
Nodding slightly, Kate tidied her handbag, put on her coat, and headed for the door. Just as she exited the makeup room, the sound of high heels echoed behind her; Rachel was following her.
"Let’s go together." She put on a sisterly facade.
"Sorry, Miss Vise." Kate turned back toward the makeup room. "I forgot something."
Watching Kate disappear into the makeup room, Rachel muttered "bitch" under her breath and walked ahead. If the card was real, then the director from Hollywood would likely be waiting at the backstage exit...
"Director Rosenberg, please take a seat."
The theater manager shook hands with Duke and instructed someone nearby, "Go quickly and invite Miss Jones!"
Just a moment ago, he had passed by the backstage exit and had seen Duke. After hesitating for a moment, he approached and chatted with him, confirming Duke’s identity before quickly inviting him into the manager’s office.
"I didn’t expect you to be interested in our production."
Hearing the other’s compliment, Duke politely responded, "It’s wonderful. This is my second time coming tonight."
After exchanging pleasantries, there was a knock on the door, and a woman in flat shoes, about 5 feet 6 inches tall, walked in.
She had long, deep brown hair that was almost black, a pair of amber-like captivating eyes, and exuded a unique romantic aura. Her delicate face combined classical and wild charm, and her figure, wrapped in a fitted coat, was simply synonymous with beauty and sensuality.
When she looked at Duke quietly, she embodied the elegance of a classical British lady; when she enthusiastically shook hands with Duke, she radiated wild beauty.
"Hello, Director Rosenberg..." She seemed a bit flustered. "I didn’t expect, I really didn’t expect it to be you."
"No need to be formal, Miss Jones."
After directing so many films, Duke could discern whether someone had the potential for Oscar-level acting. "I watched your song and dance performance yesterday and today; it left a strong impression."
"Thank you." She glanced at the theater manager, then sat down on the sofa beside Duke. "You can call me Kate or Catherine."
"You two talk." The theater manager stood up at that moment. "I still have work to attend to."
Once the manager left, Duke discreetly observed her. She sat quietly like the most graceful British lady.
"Kate, your song and dance performance is very captivating." Duke wasted no time and got straight to the point. "Do you have any plans to develop in Hollywood?"
"Hollywood?" She hesitated but eventually replied, "Actually, I went to Los Angeles in ’92, but I achieved nothing and had to return to London."
She was well aware of how difficult it was for outsiders to enter Hollywood. If she weren’t British but came from the European mainland, she might not even land minor roles.
"You’re from a musical theater background; you should know about ’Chicago,’ right?"
Seeing her nod, Duke continued, "I now hold the film adaptation rights for ’Chicago,’ and within a year, I will bring it to the big screen. I have been looking for suitable actresses."
Indeed, the film adaptation rights Duke had purchased were for "Chicago."
Catherine Zeta-Jones was stunned for a moment, then quickly realized. Being described as a suitable actress by this director surely meant she was one of the two leading roles. She couldn’t help but feel a surge of joy, followed by a shock.
Joy, because this was an opportunity to play a leading role, especially in an adaptation of a classic musical. She had trained in dance since the age of six and even won the All-England Tap Dance Championship. There couldn’t be a more suitable role for her to break into Hollywood.
It stemmed from the director’s style across from her. If he were to personally direct a musical film, what kind of terrifying effect would that have? Thᴇ link to the origɪn of this information rᴇsts ɪn 𝕟𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕝⚑𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖⚑𝕟𝕖𝕥
Catherine Zeta-Jones couldn’t even imagine how the news of Duke Rosenberg, the so-called "explosion madman" director, directing a musical would be received around the world.
Would it blow everyone’s mind? Would they laugh out loud? Or would they feel like the end of the world had come...
"Can I do it?" she asked tentatively.
"If you’re interested in auditioning, you can look into the role of Velma when you have time."
At present, Catherine Zeta-Jones wasn’t the actress she would later become. Duke didn’t naively believe she would possess the same skills later on, nor did he guarantee anything. "Your dance skills are excellent, and I personally believe you’re very suitable for this role if you can meet my requirements."
After observing her over the past two nights, Duke had enough confidence in Catherine Zeta-Jones’s dance skills, but her acting was mediocre.
He checked his watch, estimating that his mother would soon return to the hotel, and stood up to say, "If you’re interested, please call me."
Catherine Zeta-Jones, who had been deep in thought, seemed to have made a decision. She took her bag, pulled out her business card, and handed it to Duke. "If the film preparations begin, please have someone notify me. Thank you!"
In this film, the performance of the heroine is of utmost importance. Duke thought for a moment and said, "Your singing and dancing are not a problem, but your acting skills need improvement. I hope to see an outstanding performance during the audition."
After saying this, he didn’t linger, walking out of the theater and hurrying toward the hotel.
Zeta-Jones, who remained in the management office, had already called her agent to ask how she could improve as much as possible within a year.