The Best Director

Chapter 274: Chapter 274: Reversal!?

“You don’t have a choice? Who decided you don’t have a choice? It’s always you who makes the choices! All of this, it’s damn excuses, convincing yourself, convincing others! It’s not about homecoming, it’s about… you’ve changed, think about it!”

On the big screens of more than three thousand cinemas, the night scene of New York’s streets faded as Alex stormed away after his impassioned rebuke. Under the specific shot, Jessica, portraying Andrea, had reddened eyes, her face a mixture of tastes, seemingly caught between laughter and tears, the camera slowly retreating. She seemed so awkward she didn’t even know where to place her hands, involuntarily taking sharp, trembling breaths, as she dabbed at the corner of her eyes where tears had fallen and blinked rapidly.

The picture switched to a bird’s-eye long shot; Andrea stood there, stunned, as Alex walked further and further away.

“Asshole! Idiot!!” Numerous male audience members couldn’t help but yell silently, go on, go on, your angel girlfriend is going to belong to someone else! The female audience in the seats also felt a bit down, watching up to this point they had already somewhat put themselves in Andrea’s shoes, worried for her! Although this movie had no real love scenes, the scenes involving Andrea’s mom and her high school and college best friend Lily Goodwin had more screen time than Alex, but the feeling of being dumped was truly unpleasant.

Of course, there were also some who took pleasure in the misfortune – it served her right! These parts of the female audience watched with satisfaction, Andy, this is indeed the choice you made yourself!

“Huh, what magic has Wang Yang worked this time?” Seeing this scene, Natalie sat up straight, her expression a bit strange. She could tell there was something different about this crying scene; Jessica had always been lively and energetic. Why did she look like this all of a sudden? Natalie thought back to watching High School Musical and feeling like laughing, but now, it was tugging at her heartstrings and making her want to cry… Natalie hummed in confusion, shrugged, and thought “Whatever.”

Jessica’s sobs touched many people’s hearts. Critics also added points to her performance for this part, saying that without a doubt, it was an A+! Stephanie from Salon nodded in admiration, the performance was convincing and compelling!

Despite a large portion of critics being very dissatisfied with the magical Yang, it was undeniable that, in The Devil Wears Prada, the three main actresses, especially in their crying scenes, were spectacular. Meryl Streep hadn’t appeared yet; earlier, Emily Blunt had a car accident scene where she sobbed and ate voraciously in the hospital – a stunningly vivid performance that impressed everyone; now, Jessica also displayed a great breakthrough.

Looking at herself on the silver screen, Jessica couldn’t help but lower her gaze to her left ring finger where her engagement ring sat, filling her heart with happiness and finding not a trace of the sorrow from that time. She didn’t know why, but she suddenly burst into laughter, “Thank you, Yang.” Beside her, Wang Yang looked at her, caressed her hand, and simply smiled watching the big screen without saying anything.

Andrea slowly turned around, the camera once again focused on her face in a close-up. Her sad, pretty face tensed into coldness, and she twitched her nose once more before walking away in silence but with determination.

The story took a turn and continued; the breakup with her boyfriend left Andrea heartbroken and made her irritable and easily angered, leading her to doubt the value of her work even more. The screen showed the same scene again in retrospect, letting the audience feel the change; Andrea tossed and turned in her bed at night, wrapping the covers around herself again and again, with the bedside clock spinning fast, until she finally exploded, shouting, “The New Yorker—!!!”

But this did not deter Andrea’s dedication to her fashion job, or perhaps she really had changed, as she followed Miranda to Paris to attend the spring and summer fashion shows.

Paris’s beauty unfolded on the silver screen with a filmic texture, dreamlike and ethereal, not portraying the bustling and vibrant side, but a fresh and elegant palette, warm and quaint, with a touch of romantic grace that hit the audience head-on. On-screen, Jessica gazed through the car window at the Parisian street scene with an enraptured smile on her face; as she looked at the gentle rain falling on Paris, Jessica couldn’t help but mutter to herself, “So beautiful…”

“Wow, so pretty!” The audience, regardless of gender, were a bit taken aback; the female viewers who had longed for Paris already wore enraptured expressions.

Not only did the audience find these scenes beautiful, but many film critics, professionals, and industry insiders also admired David Frankel’s cinematographic skills and Wang Yang’s extraordinary talent for choosing locations. The Paris under the camera lens could be depicted in many diverse ways. Sometimes, the imagery on the screen even surpassed the beauty of the real Paris. At this moment, the depiction on screen made J.R. Jones of the “Chicago Reader” wonder if even the French could not capture Paris as beautifully.

This was the intermittent brilliance of “The Devil Wears Prada.” If it had been an average commercial film by an ordinary director, it might have portrayed a bustling and glittering Paris lacking depth. But now, with Wang Yang’s direction, the film exuded the beauty of an indie movie, prompting Andrew Sarris of the “New York Observer” to shake his head and say, “What a waste.”

Suddenly, film critics understood why Wang Yang had depicted Paris with such quiet elegance. Just as the audience began to revel in the beautiful imagery, a sudden “click-click-click” erupted, along with a cacophony of noise. Scenes of press conferences, cocktail parties, and fashion show runways appeared rapidly and clearly in the film, featuring tall models in beautiful evening gowns and spring-summer collections; reporters swarming with microphones and cameos from renowned figures in the Parisian fashion scene…

In an instant, the film shifted violently from elegance to ostentation, from tranquility to noise. The fashion show, which should have represented elegance, suddenly perplexed viewers. Why was there a sense of vulgarity?

“A beautiful strike!” The cameos of fashion celebrities used for contrast were not to their liking, while film critics applauded, finding the use of this visual language masterful. Claudie Yaupg of “USA Today” added a little more score to “The Devil Wears Prada.” When Wang Yang handled these details well, the film became pleasing to watch and full of interest. The satire was also very clever: Fashion can never surpass the beauty of nature, or rather, nature is the best fashion.

What a pity, a real pity! It might have been an issue of whether Wang Yang was willing, or perhaps his talent had significantly declined, failing to make the entire film shine. Regardless, Eaton Alta of “New York Film Critics” knew that when something wasn’t done well, it simply wasn’t good, and critics wouldn’t care about the reasons.

There really was a crying scene with Meryl Streep!

Upon reaching Paris, Andrea was surrounded by busyness and fashion. However, just as she started to enjoy herself, she received emergency calls from her parents and Alex, her close friend and roommate Lily had been in a car accident and was now in a coma in the intensive care unit of the hospital. A bewildered Andrea couldn’t help but recall Emily, who was also lying in a hospital due to a car accident. The flashback scenes juxtaposed Emily’s calmness on the hospital bed with Andrea’s joy after arriving in Paris, which was so ironic.

“Who am I!?” Andrea realized she was becoming more and more like Miranda and urgently told her mother, “I’m coming back to New York right now!”

But when she approached Miranda’s suite, she saw the silver-haired Monster, with teary eyes, as it turned out, her current husband Stephen had asked for a divorce. fɾeewebnoveℓ.co๓

“Once we’re back in New York, we’ll need to get in touch, um…” On the big screen, Meryl Streep sat on the couch in a gray robe sleepwear, unmade up, holding glasses in her hand and looking haggard, almost inaudible. “Leslie, see if she can think of a way to minimize the impact of this…” She took a gentle deep breath, her eyes reddening, whispering, “To the lowest.”

“Divorcing again… will make front page gossip news.” Between shots, Jessica, sitting opposite, was expressionless, busy with her paperwork; Streep shook her head as tears started to flow. She was distressed, angry, ridiculous, and sounded helpless as she whispered, “I can predict what they will write about me with my eyes closed. An overbearing and brutal woman, a workaholic, the ice queen who prioritizes work above everything else has kicked another Mr. Priestly out of the house… Mercato should really thank me… I’ve helped him sell so many newspapers…”

Streep fell silent for a second, took another deep breath, shook her head, and said, “Whatever, I don’t care, I really don’t care how they write about me.” She looked at Andrea across her, choking up and speaking from the heart, “But it’s my, my daughters, it’s just… it’s so unfair to them.” She glanced upward with moist eyes, holding back her emotions, blinked and shrugged, and said, “It’s another disappointment, another setback, another father’s… role…” She scoffed at herself, “Leaving.”

Incredible acting! Streep is Streep! The audience was captivated, and film critics couldn’t help but praise. If Emily Blunt and Jessica Alba’s crying scenes still carried traces of acting, then Meryl Streep was completely genuine, just real, real, real!

Meryl Streep once again proved to the world that no role is too challenging for her! Kirk Honeycutt, a well-known film critic for The Hollywood Reporter, quietly marveled at how Streep and the wonderful Wang Yang’s collaboration was a success, bringing a new image to the silver screen, bringing a big surprise! He was certain that Streep’s name would be on the list for Best Actress at the 76th Academy Awards next year.

Witnessing the Monster’s weak image, Jessica pursed her lips, a hint of sympathetic sorrow on her face. Her lips parted several times, but in the end, she said nothing, neither words of comfort nor mentioning returning to New York.

“The most important thing anyway is… ahem!” Streep blinked back tears, continuing in a soft voice, “The important thing is… well, the important thing is where do we seat Donna Tella? Because she doesn’t talk to people much.”

When Andrea left Miranda’s suite, she let out a long sigh, pulled out her phone, and called back: “Mom, there are some things, I won’t be coming back for now, I can’t really help by returning, can I? No, it’s not that…” She looked distressed as she listened to her mother’s voice: “Paris is beautiful, isn’t it? Andy, I’m very disappointed in you.” She suddenly closed her phone and stepped forward.

The audience in front of the screen all frowned. What does this mean? Andrea’s loyalty to her work, empathizing with Miranda’s pain of being “dumped,” understanding the challenges faced by this female demon of a boss, and therefore can’t bear to resign at such a time; or has she become indifferent to her closest friends, even though indeed returning to New York wouldn’t help the doctors, but that person is in critical condition and unconscious…

Clearly, Andrea was also unclear about what she was doing. She was in a state of confusion and struggle, walking in the tranquil forest paths near the hotel, looking aimlessly and irritably at the beautiful Parisian surroundings. Her best friend lay in an ICU bed, breathing machines, heart monitors… In the scene, Andrea suddenly covered her face sadly and without warning, swung her Prada bag violently, smashing it to the ground.

“Oh my God, that’s a Prada limited edition!!”

Cries of shock arose from the theaters of the 3056 cinemas—many fashion-loving white-collar female audiences were unprepared for this, shivered at the sight of the bag hitting the ground, unable to bear watching this cruel scene. What was Wang Yang thinking!

But the devastation of the precious Prada limited edition bag wasn’t over on the screen. Jessica stepped forward and gave it a fierce kick, sending the bag flying, skidding far across the ground. In the close-up shot, Jessica took a breath, her gaze steady. She brushed off the hair hanging over her forehead, stepped forward, bent down to pick up the bag that was now marred with many more scratches, her lovely face tense, and she quickly walked on.

“Good! That’s more like it, smash it, kick it, go back to New York!” A crowd of male and female audiences also felt extremely excited—the disfashioned Fanny, those who wanted Andrea to turn back into a good girl like Evelyn, all had smiles on their faces. Smashing a fashion handbag in “the capital of fashion,” Paris—amusing! However, to their disappointment, Andrea picks up the bag and continues working.

With only 20 minutes left in the movie, this naturally meant it was entering its final stage. The film critics from the Ziegfeld Theater and across North America almost uniformly sneered, still too few highlights up to now, excellent mediocrity. Will there be any climax in the final stage, any twist?

The story continued, with Miranda facing another career crisis after her husband filed for divorce. The Runway magazine headquarters intended to move the French editor-in-chief to the US to replace her, but she easily resolved this crisis by sacrificing her top fashion consultant Nigel’s long-cherished promotion.

Seeing Miranda discard her loyal Nigel like a chess piece, Andrea finally woke up. Miranda is a person who doesn’t need sympathy or help from others; she was never Miranda’s friend! Perhaps Miranda’s actions were justifiable, but she was a monster! This point was further confirmed when Miranda later issued another impossible, torturous demand.

What’s more terrifying is that she was becoming just like Miranda! So, in the hotel suite, Andrea made the decision to resign and immediately rush back to New York.

“I know you’ve always wanted to be a columnist for The New Yorker,” Miranda said with a smile from the sofa, clad in sleek black professional attire within the elegantly furnished spacious suite. “I have many connections in magazine publishing, including the editor of The New Yorker…” She looked at Jessica, who was standing, and continued, “I can recommend you. No one would refuse the former first assistant to Miranda. Just stay and help me through this Fashion Week.”

Refuse! Refuse! Although the spring/summer Fashion Week might be over in just two or three days, enduring it could be worth a year and fulfill her dream—but the audience tended to reject it, obviously knowing it was a foregone conclusion. Joe Morgenstern from The Wall Street Journal shrugged nonchalantly, truly worthy of a USC grad—the clear structure of a commercial film, and now the self-redemption, the Hollywood-style ending, was about to begin!

“I like this part,” Jessica whispered to Wang Yang in front of the big screen. Wang Yang nodded and said, “I like it too. You played it very well.”

On numerous screens watched by countless audiences, Andrea gazed at Miranda and, after a few seconds, suddenly took out her phone and said, “I’m going home. I need to go home!” Miranda, with a calm demeanor, responded faintly, “Andrea, don’t ruin your future.” Andrea laughed as she tapped her phone, her voice becoming excited and choked up, “Mom, I’m coming back to New York now! I miss you guys so much, I… I’m coming home now!”

“Why do you care so much about your boyfriend?” Streep’s voice was still very soft. She was unaware of Lily’s situation. Andrea closed her phone with a puzzled look and asked, “How did you know?” Miranda laughed softly, “I know everything.” She blinked her eyes as if thinking of the husband who had asked for a divorce, and, with a smile, said, “He’s just scared of you. An incompetent man wants you to be as incompetent as him, more incompetent than him, then they feel better.”

Andrea shook her head with a smile and said, “No, it’s not because of Alex, but I don’t think there’s any need to tell you anymore. You don’t understand… you don’t know love…” As Miranda picked up a magazine, she glanced at her and let out a dismissive laugh, “Love? Hah! If he loved you, why wouldn’t he be happy for your success? Why wouldn’t he understand and be sympathetic to your work? What kind of love is that? He loves himself.” Andrea took a deep breath and said, “Miranda, you love yourself, you only love and care for yourself! And your daughters, perhaps, who knows? I have never seen you personally take them to school…” She became more and more angry and upset—angry at herself, angry at Miranda, and speaking loudly, she said, “And another thing, you don’t understand friendship, you have no friends! No friends! Nigel thinks he is your friend, but he… you use everyone, their kindness, their dreams, their trust in you!”

As the camera cut between scenes on the screen, Miranda’s face fell silent when Andrea mentioned her twin daughters, and she looked up somewhat unnaturally.

Meryl Streep watching the screen couldn’t help but purse her lips. Miranda loved her family, but she was so busy that she neglected everything, thinking that material satisfaction and familial stability were enough. Her twin daughters always made bizarre requests just to get their mother’s attention, but Miranda thought that fulfilling them was enough. Thankfully, Streep glanced at her older daughter Mamie sitting nearby; thankfully, she was not Miranda.

“Well said! Tear her down!” Evelyn cheered secretly. At this point, Miranda was not pitiable at all, or rather, she had many detestable traits. Not every female viewer was thrilled, but many girls, like Clair, had a moment of realization—this was Lauren Weisberger! She didn’t go to The New Yorker in the end but wrote a novel called The Devil Wears Prada.

A twist!? Was Wang Yang making his power move? Film critics everywhere were intrigued by these lines. Miranda’s words actually carried a deep meaning, articulating the sufferings of a strong woman; Andrea’s words struck at Miranda’s vulnerable traits. Almost half of the critics, who were still undecided about their reviews, began to hope anew for Wang Yang—perhaps there would be a fantastic ending.

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