He… just denied it, like that.
Anson remained Anson, and his unexpected response completely caught Scarlett off guard.
It was a rare moment where Scarlett stared at Anson in shock and amazement, forgetting what to say.
Anson spread his hands. "Hey, haven't you watched enough of those Hollywood narratives? Now that you're in Cannes, you should experience works born from different regions and systems, films that diverge from the Hollywood industrial machine."
"What I mean is, it's not just about European art directors, there's much more out there."
Calm, confident, direct.
And, convincing.
Scarlett's eyes slowly filled with a smile—
She had to admit, Anson was right. Yet again, she was convinced.
However, standing in front of Anson, Scarlett decided not to play by the usual rules. "The point is, you're not even going to engage in some polite small talk?"
Anson: "Do you want me to small talk?"
Scarlett: …
Anson: "You know I can, and I'm actually quite good at it."
Scarlett finally couldn't hold back anymore. A full smile spread across her face. "I believe you," she said, her eyes sparkling mischievously.
Anson caught on.
But why? What was with Scarlett's gaze and smile?
Was there something hidden in her words?
Thoughts paused for a moment in his mind, circled around, and suddenly clicked.
"Wait, you're here as an invited guest for the Mystic River premiere, aren't you?"
Though phrased as a question, the certainty in his tone was unmistakable. Anson knew it was the correct answer.
Scarlett didn't reply, but her smile bloomed proudly like a flower.
Anson spread his hands. "Alright, I'm ready for a verbal sparring match. Just because they're veterans doesn't mean I'm afraid of them."
As he spoke, he struck a boxing stance, even bouncing on his toes, light-footed and ready to strike.
"Haha," Scarlett laughed out loud—
In the Mystic River crew, most of them were Hollywood big names known for their bad tempers. Apart from Tim Robbins, they were all difficult to deal with.
Whether it was Sean Penn or Clint Eastwood, none were to be trifled with. If things went wrong, they'd roll up their sleeves and throw punches.
Obviously, Anson had heard about them too.
If they heard what Anson had just said, they probably wouldn't be thrilled.
Scarlett winked at Anson. "Don't worry, I won't tell them."
A pause.
Ding.
Scarlett's floor arrived. Without hesitation, she left the elevator, turned at the doorway, looked back at Anson, and winked.
Then, with a change in tone, she added, "I'll keep it as leverage. Be careful not to mess with me."
The little devil flashed her sharp fangs, then stepped back as the elevator doors slowly closed, separating them into different spaces.
Standing in the hallway, Scarlett waited for a moment.
She half-expected Anson to reopen the elevator doors, but when she saw the elevator continue upwards, she reluctantly turned around and walked down the corridor.
What a pleasant surprise, running into Anson at Cannes.
Recalling the brief playful exchange, a smile once again tugged at her lips, and her steps became lighter. She knew Cannes was going to be interesting.
Inside the elevator, a similar faint smile curved Anson's lips.
Mystic River was excellent. Anson personally loved this sad and hopeless film, with its pervasive blue tone that lingered long after the credits rolled.
However, Anson had meant what he said.
After becoming accustomed to Hollywood's industrial model, the greatest charm of a film festival lies in the wild, independent growth of films that break away from the Hollywood system. Not only European films, but works from all over the world, including those from economically disadvantaged regions, can broaden one's horizons.
This is what makes film festivals truly exciting and worth anticipating.
Ding.
The elevator arrived. Stepping out, the atmosphere immediately felt different.
Usually, hotel design aims for consistency, with each floor and room following a similar theme. But here, the silk-draped walls of the corridor made the difference obvious, as if stepping into another world.
Examining the surroundings closely, it felt like entering a rabbit hole.
Anson guessed that Dior likely redecorates every year.
Though the Cannes Film Festival lasts just ten short days, Dior uses the grand Barrière Hotel as a stage, like an exhibition hall, to showcase its fashion concepts for each year and season.
From a promotional and brand image perspective, it's absolutely worth it.
Walking down the corridor, Anson took his time, admiring the décor. His opinion of Dior had definitely risen.
A decade later, Dior, trying to stay relevant with the younger generation, made a series of poor choices in spokespersons, causing severe brand identity issues. It was a disaster.
But right now, Dior was at the forefront of fashion. Whether it was boldly pioneering the men's fashion market or crafting a long-term vision, it was a leader among luxury brands.
Once again, this proved that a visionary leader can completely transform a company. Likewise, a poor leader can ruin decades of work in just a year.
When had Hedi Slimane left Dior, again?
Knock knock.
Anson knocked on the door, not waiting long before light spilled into the hallway.
Standing in front of him was the thin, pale, and nervous-looking Hedi.
Still, seeing Anson, Hedi allowed a rare smile. "Anson, you're here."
Anson gave him a hug. "I'm not late, am I?"
Hedi shook his head, sizing Anson up. His casual and carefree look was even more relaxed and bright than he remembered, like a breeze passing through a canyon—impossible to catch.
"If you keep wandering like this, you'll truly become a wandering minstrel."
Hedi didn't like Anson's plan—
Street performances? If you're preparing for a music show, just hold a concert. The randomness, uncertainty, and freedom of street performances seemed chaotic and disorganized to Hedi.
One or two performances might be fine, but wandering and performing all along the way? What kind of nonsense was that?
Hedi couldn't understand or agree.
In his mind, this should end as soon as possible. "Otherwise, how can I go to a concert and support my friend?"
But Anson remained at ease. "Isn't that a good thing?"
Hedi looked at Anson helplessly, firmly replying, "No."
"Hahaha." Hedi's certainty made Anson laugh heartily.
Hedi rolled his eyes at Anson, knowing he couldn't stop him. All he could do was give his blessing.
Taking a deep breath, Hedi got to the point. "Let's talk business—the suit has a problem."