Chapter 170: I Am Aaron Anderson
After finishing his conversation with Nicolas Seydoux, Aaron scanned the room again, trying to find the woman who had caught his eye earlier.
"Pity," he murmured. She was nowhere to be seen.
"Aaron."
Hugh Grant suddenly approached with director Roman Polanski and his wife.
Just last month, Bitter Moon—written and directed by Roman Polanski and starring Hugh Grant, Kristin Scott Thomas, and Emmanuelle Seigner—had premiered in France. Its explicit themes of sexual obsession and psychological extremity had ignited intense controversy.
Regardless, Aaron chatted casually with them. After all, Dawnlight had invested in Schindler's List, directed by Steven Spielberg. Polanski himself was a Jewish survivor of World War II and had once even been invited to direct the project.
"Aaron," Polanski said, raising his glass, "for supporting Schindler's List, I believe all Jews will be grateful to you."
Aaron clinked glasses with him, then glanced briefly at Polanski's much younger wife. Most of the film's explicit scenes had centered on her, hadn't they?
His gaze lingered on Polanski a moment longer, a trace of irony crossing his face. The disturbing elements in Bitter Moon—sadomasochism, obsession—felt uncomfortably close to Polanski's own life. After all, he had been indicted in the United States for sexually assaulting a minor and had fled to France, where he remained a wanted man to this day.
Aaron smiled politely.
"With Steven Spielberg directing Schindler's List, I'm very confident in the film."
What irritated him, however, was how readily these people expressed gratitude—with words alone. If Spielberg hadn't agreed to waive his directing fee, Aaron would never have backed the project in the first place.
"Oh, by the way," Aaron added deliberately, "Schindler's List opens next month. If you're interested, Director Polanski, you're welcome to attend the premiere."
Polanski smiled awkwardly and shook his head. He couldn't enter the United States.
At that moment, Emmanuelle Seigner spoke up with a gentle smile.
"Aaron, have you seen Bitter Moon?"
Aaron shook his head.
"I received a screener, but I haven't had time to watch it yet."
To be honest, he didn't have high expectations for French erotic cinema. Damage had performed decently in France but only modestly in the U.S. As for Bitter Moon, with its explicit sexuality and violent emotional entanglements, it was a clear NC-17 film.
In terms of artistic merit or critical depth, it wasn't even in the same league as Damage.
"Is that so?" Emmanuelle replied softly.
Emmanuelle Seigner felt a flicker of disappointment at his response. Of course she had hoped to catch the attention of this newly risen Hollywood mogul standing before her.
Bitter Moon was a deeply controversial film, and the negative reviews far outweighed the praise. Emmanuelle had delivered several bold, explicit performances in it—and once filming ended, regret followed quickly.
But whatever Emmanuelle may have felt, Aaron had little interest in Roman Polanski himself, let alone her.
Before long, Aaron was chatting with Hugh Grant about Four Weddings and a Funeral. Though both were Anglo-French co-productions, the film was worlds apart from Bitter Moon in tone and intent.
"My agent's already warned me," Hugh Grant said with a wry smile. "I won't be taking on projects like that again."
After all, in Bitter Moon, he'd only played a supporting role.
"Don't worry," Aaron said, giving him an encouraging pat on the shoulder. "Four Weddings and a Funeral is excellent. When it comes out next year, I'm sure it'll surprise a lot of people."
Grant's image simply wasn't suited to extreme or transgressive material.
After parting ways with him, Aaron noticed the striking woman he'd seen earlier, now being persistently bothered by a man in the lounge area.
Aaron stepped in smoothly.
"May I invite you for a drink?"
"I'm Aaron Anderson. American."
She smiled in relief. "My pleasure—and thank you for that. I'm Christiana Reali."
Inside the hotel bar, they ordered cocktails. Aaron studied her for a moment.
"Christiana Reali? You're not French, are you?"
She shook her head. "I was born in Brazil. I moved to France as a child, and only came to Paris in recent years."
"I'm an actress too. I saw you speaking with Mr. Nicolas Seydoux earlier—you must be someone important."
Christiana was a French actress of Brazilian descent.
The man who had been pestering her earlier was none other than French director Jean-Jacques Annaud. The moment he noticed Aaron Anderson, he withdrew without hesitation.
Her eyes were deep and luminous, almost as if they could read minds.
Aaron smiled. "Just because I know Nicolas Seydoux?"
She shook her head again. "That man was Jean-Jacques Annaud. He directed The Lover, which was released earlier this year in France."
"The Lover?" Aaron took a sip of his drink.
"Adapted from Marguerite Duras's autobiographical novel, right? The male lead was Chinese."
"Yes," she said with a small smile. "It's a wonderful film—critics loved it."
She herself was still a minor actress, without any truly notable roles to her name.
Aaron turned toward her, then gently lifted a hand to her cheek.
"I run a film company in Hollywood—Dawnlight Pictures. Last year we released Ghost and The Silence of the Lambs."
Her eyes widened.
"Dawnlight Pictures… Aaron Anderson?"
"No wonder," she said softly. "I've heard of you. They say Hollywood has a remarkably young new tycoon. I never imagined you'd be this young."
She was only twenty-seven herself—just a year older than Sophie Marceau.
Aaron withdrew his hand and raised his glass.
"Ever thought about going to Hollywood?"
Christiana blinked, a touch of resignation in her smile.
"I can barely get opportunities in France. How could there be a place for me in Hollywood?"
Aaron smiled calmly.
"That's because you didn't know me before."
"Hollywood opportunities are rare," he added lightly.
"Unfortunately for the competition—I happen to be Aaron Anderson."
He handed her his business card.
"Call me within three days."