America Tycoon: The Wolf of Showbiz

Chapter 487 The Most Suicidal Thing in History

Emerging from the Metropolitan Theater, Ted felt the excitement still coursing through him. When was the last time he saw such an awesome action movie?

He thought back for a moment and remembered—it was Martin's "Wanted Order"!

The whole film didn't give the bad guys a chance to babble, if they could kill, they definitely didn't waste time chatting!

Just like Martin's action scenes—clean, precise, straight to the point, without dragging things out!

Monica, looking utterly infatuated beside him, exclaimed, "Martin was so cool, he's my idol from now on!"

This thrilling movie had completely captivated her.

Ted nodded repeatedly, "This is what action movies are all about—punches that land, moves that kill, shots that blow brains out!"

Those rambling action movies dare to set their protagonists as assassins or spies?

What's the basic standard for a qualified assassin or spy? No nonsense!

In the car leaving the Lincoln Arts Center, Makara pulled out her iPhone to check the latest news on "John Wick," and while on IMDB, she gave the movie a solid 9 points.

Martin alone, being so cool, was worth the whole score.

On premiere night, the IMDB section for "John Wick" was slaughtered with rave reviews from fans.

"In all of Hollywood, only Martin has the coolness and gravitas!"

"Seeing Martin in real life shoot a Russian spy, punch groins, choke necks, gouge eyes, and smash heads with bottled Cola, and then seeing him do the same cool moves in the movie!

"Martin's skills are truly impressive, especially when you say the male lead Jonathan is strong, it's more like Martin himself has lent Jonathan strength. With sleek moves and a sharp suit, Martin has once again reminded us of the Cola War God from Santa Monica Pier! Also, when Jonathan smashed a Russian Mafia boss's head with a bottled Cola, the whole theater shared a knowing smile."

"It was explosive, I literally exploded right there, a nuclear bomb has nothing on the charm Martin brought to this movie!"

By the time Martin returned to his room at the Hilton Hotel, one piece of news had become a hot topic on the internet.

"The most suicidal thing ever, killing Jonathan's dog!"

And from there, the topic evolved.

"There's one thing in Hollywood you never mess with, and that's Martin's dog!"

Fans' creativity knows no bounds, and soon others followed suit.

"The three untouchables of the movie industry: Jason Statham's package, Liam Neeson's daughter, and Martin Davis's dog!"

Without doubt, the production team and Warner Bros. were fanning the flames behind the scenes, launching a comprehensive post-screening campaign.

In the luxurious suite at the Hilton Hotel, Martin was about to go to the room Taylor had mentioned when his door was already being knocked on.

Bruce went to check the peephole and said, "Taylor Swift."

Martin nodded, "Let her in."

Taylor walked into Martin's room with a guitar case in hand.

Bruce nodded to her and left voluntarily.

Taylor locked the door behind her and asked, "I've been waiting, why didn't you come over?"

Martin responded, "I just got back, I needed to take a shower and change my clothes."

Taylor sat on the arm of the sofa, opened her guitar case, took out her acoustic guitar, and asked, "Which song would you like to hear first?"

Martin leaned against a pillar, observing her carefully, and asked, "You wrote several songs for me?"

"Exactly two. One was finished recently after an inspiration burst in Los Angeles," Taylor said with eyes that captivated, clearly trained to lure someone in, as if saying hurry over here.

She smiled and said, "The other one only has a few notes. I wrote simple tunes and exclamations because inspiration left me, and I couldn't complete it."

Martin thought, are those exclamations serious? Surely not something like God?

Taylor looked helpless and frustrated, "Being without inspiration is a death sentence for a singer-songwriter like me, so I need you to inspire me, to help me fill in the second song."

Martin suggested, "Start with the first song. Once I get the feeling, I can help you with your inspiration."

"You want a feeling?" Taylor first looked surprised, then her eyes twinkled as she said, "I understand!"

Martin was unsure what she had comprehended.

He watched as Taylor stood up, set down her acoustic guitar, shed her outerwear, and in less than half a minute, she had turned herself into a newborn.

Taylor sat opposite Martin on the sofa, began playing her guitar, and sang, "You Belong With Me, dedicated to my Martin."

As she sang, she crossed and uncrossed her legs, delivering a classic country pop tune.

"You're on the phone with your girlfriend—she's upset, hanging on the words you've just said... She wears short skirts, I wear T-shirts; she's cheer captain and I'm on the bleachers... You Belong With Me!"

Like performing on stage, Taylor kept opening and crossing her long legs throughout the song.

Martin listened to the song, enjoying the view, and quickly got the feeling.

After Taylor finished the song, he commented, "That song makes me sound like such a jerk, doesn't it?"

Taylor let out a clear laugh, "Isn't it true?"

Martin, without any intent to defend himself, complimented, "Great song, feels like it could hit Billboard."

Taylor, however, seized upon the topic she'd just raised, "Don't want to be a scumbag? There's an easy way?"

She put down her wooden guitar, walked over, and hung on Martin's neck, "How about breaking up with Elizabeth Olsen and being my boyfriend?"

Martin removed her hands and stepped back twice, saying, "Taylor, we agreed, it's only about inspiring creativity, nothing else."

Taylor withdrew after a tentative probe, "Just hype this song for me."

"No problem," Martin was very particular in this regard, repeating his earlier words, "This is a song I actively invited you to create."

Taylor went to the sound system, found a dance music CD, inserted it, and started the music, "I've been practicing dance for the past six months, preparing for my concert, let's see how well I can dance."

In the dance music, Taylor, not wearing a dance costume, began to move her body.

It didn't take long for the music to stop and Taylor began to sing a song made up of interjections, phrases calling on God and funk, but it was the same few lines over and over, clearly a sign of creative exhaustion.

Martin, animated by music, repeatedly sparked Taylor's creative inspiration throughout the night, eventually helping her come up with new lines beyond the simple lyrics.

But for this song to be truly finished, it wasn't going to be possible in one night, or even two or three.

The following morning, an exhausted Taylor was sent back to her room by Martin to catch up on sleep and rest, while Martin went out early to join the creative team for an NBC show recording to further promote the movie.

John Wick had just premiered, and Rotten Tomatoes lifted its embargo first, collecting nearly 80 professional film reviews, with a freshness rating of 89%—remarkable for an R-rated action film.

The positive reviews focused mainly on Martin's performance and the coherently spectacular action scenes, whilst the negative ones targeted the drama scenes and themes, citing weak drama and lack of depth.

For a commercial action movie, no one cared much about these negatives.

On IMDB, thanks to Martin, the movie opened with an impressive rating of 8.9.

Martin's fans and action movie aficionados almost exploded with praise for the film.

Cinema Score's polling of the opening night audience gave an average rating of A!

While not on par with The Dark Knight, it was still top-tier.

In the realm of commercial cinema, not many films have been rated higher than The Dark Knight.

Of course, there were critical voices too, such as Richard Brody from "The New Yorker," who, in his column which awards a total of five stars, gave "John Wick" and Martin one star each.

His comments were not at all courteous.

"Martin Davis, just having won the Oscar for Best Supporting Actor, is a real disappointment. His new work has no artistic aspiration and is nothing more than shooting and killing, a hollow and gloomy void. This seems to be the extent of his star journey."

But, contrary to that, the midnight showing of "John Wick" was packed!

Chad, directing his first film solo, knew its reputation was explosive and the market outlook was bright, but he was still too nervous to sit still.

In the night, he sneaked into a nondescript local cinema alone, and bought a ticket to see the midnight screening of "John Wick."

From the back row, Chad looked out and saw a room packed tight with people.

Fully booked!

Chad, like an ordinary viewer, took a seat in the last row, joining the fans in silently watching the film.

Only then could he rest easy.

The buzz in reports and online was not as reliable as seeing with one's own eyes.

The auditorium remained very quiet throughout the screening; by the end of the movie, Chad hadn't seen a single person leave to go to the bathroom.

No bathroom break scenes!

When Martin used a Cola bottle to blow up a villain's head, the cinema suddenly exploded like a stone had been thrown into a calm lake, with a splash of chaos.

The audience went wild, shouting together, "Cola War God! Cola War God!"

Similarly, when the movie reached its end, the atmosphere ignited again with continuous cheers of acclaim.

Clapping started spontaneously somewhere, and the whole room filled with applause like at a premiere, lasting for ages.

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At that moment, Chad's mind went blank, as if unsure what had happened, but he knew for certain that he and the entire creative team had created something really cool!

The audience liked it, and there was nothing more important than that.

When the movie ended, Chad sat alone in a corner of the theatre until everyone had left before he got up and slowly walked out.

He pulled out the iPhone that Martin had given him and excitedly called every member of the team, "Guys, we bloody made it!"

Mene, in the midst of persuading Celine Dion with all his might, picked up the phone and said, "Isn't it pretty normal to succeed when you follow Boss Martin?"

Chad stood by the roadside, leaning on a lamppost, laughing heartily, the relief of pressure so overwhelming he could barely stand up straight.

He called Martin, who asked when he picked up, "Chad?"

Upon hearing heavy panting, Chad quickly said, "It's nothing."

After hanging up, Chad noticed a Joker appear in front of him, dressed in a black suit similar to Jonathan's, thinking it was someone asking for an autograph, he reflexively reached for a pen.

"Don't move!" The Joker's hand came out of his pocket with a small revolver, "Give me your phone."

Chad complied obediently.

Having successfully robbed Chad, the Joker ran off, panting.