The Cannes red carpet? Yeah, the whole crew wasn't exactly thrilled about it.
Still, when in Rome—or France, I guess—you've gotta play nice. So, producer Alan Ball, director Sam Mendes, and lead actress Nicole Kidman grudgingly strutted their stuff on the carpet.
No surprise, Nicole stole the show. Oh, and big shot George Clooney was there too.
George was starring in some Disney flick—a musical comedy, of all things.
What was Disney's production team smoking? A musical's one thing, but a comedy? At *Cannes*? Were they trying to be the festival's resident clowns?
Even if you're pulling strings behind the scenes, at least make it fit Cannes' vibe, like . A wacky song-and-dance comedy crashing this artsy party? Disney must've lost their minds chasing awards.
Dunn, meanwhile, escorted a under-the-weather Natalie straight into the main venue.
Per the staff and posters, you could pick different screening rooms to check out the competing films.
Dunn couldn't care less about these foreign movies. His head was full of question marks—where the heck was Jonathan Demme?
After a big search, he actually spotted British actress Kristin Scott Thomas first.
"Director Walker? Fancy running into you here! Hi, Ms. Portman," Kristin said, her eyes lighting up. She excused herself from her friends and strolled over.
Natalie, feeling lousy, wasn't in the mood. She mumbled a flat "Hi" and clammed up.
With a fellow actress, Dunn didn't need the fancy footwork he'd used on Luc Besson. He went straight for it. "Kristin, you've gotta check out . It's premiering this afternoon—killer film, Nat's amazing in it. I'm betting it's got a shot at the big prizes! "
Kristin froze for a sec, then smiled smoothly. "Oh, awesome! I'll definitely catch the premiere."
Dunn wasn't loving her vague vibe. He locked eyes with her. "Think it'll win anything?"
"Huh?"
Kristin blinked, caught off guard. She hadn't expected the legendary Dunn Walker to come on *this* strong! Good thing she'd dealt with Harvey Weinstein's worse antics on set—way more over-the-top and sleazy—or she might've lost it.
Back then, Harvey had lured her to a hotel, demanding a hookup or he'd kill the contract. She'd caved for the role.
Now? She couldn't find a reason to say no to Dunn either.
His clout was insane. Everyone knew Disney and Fox were teaming up to take him down, but guess what? Wall Street, Comcast, Warner, Viacom—even whispers from the White House—were quietly propping him up.
Disney and Fox's schemes didn't just fail—they catapulted Dunn to a whole new level of fame.
If she'd said yes to a creep like Harvey, how could she turn down Dunn's tiny ask?
"Of course! A film you produced has to be top-notch. And Ms. Portman? Her skills were already proven in —she's incredible!" Kristin exhaled quietly, her smile a little forced.
Dunn finally cracked a grin and stuck out his hand. "If the right chance pops up, Dunn Films would love to work with you."
"Thanks!"
Now her smile felt real. Whether Dunn meant it or not, she'd scored a favor from him.
After they parted, Natalie whispered, "You were kinda harsh. Aren't you worried she'll vote against us?"
Dunn shook his head. "She's not American—no way she's survived Hollywood without some savvy and grit. Relax, Cannes isn't anonymous voting. She won't risk her career."
"So this is how you all play the game? Makes the award feel kinda meh," Natalie said, her enthusiasm dipping.
Dunn got a little annoyed, but seeing her tired face and furrowed brow, he softened. "You okay? Still hurting?"
"Yeah, it stings when I walk—like a sharp little tug," she pouted, her eyes welling up with a pitiful look .
Dunn's heart melted. "Didn't I tell you to stay at the hotel and rest?"
"That'd be so boring," she said, rolling her eyes dramatically.
He sighed. "Fine. Once I track down Jonathan and lay it out, I'll get you outta here."
"Outta here? To where?"
"UK, Germany, Italy—oh, and a stop in Paris. We're doing promo anyway, so let's treat it like a vacation."
Natalie batted her lashes playfully. "But the premiere's this afternoon. We're not sticking around? The festival's got ten more days—don't we need to hype it?"
Dunn waved it off. "Nah, no point! Let the third-world folks have their fun. This washed-up festival's a snooze. We rig the game, then bounce."
Natalie felt a mix of letdown and disappointment. Cannes, France—once a bold rival to Hollywood, a symbol of film art.
Now? Just a marketplace for movies and cheap stunts.
She cringed, remembering a European starlet on the red carpet whose dress strap "accidentally" slipped, baring it all. Gross.
Sure, the Oscars red carpet had its share of hype, but it was usually bold outfits or wild hair—maybe a staged tumble at most.
Stripping in public? To traditional, reserved Natalie, it was a disgrace to women.
Did actresses really have to flash skin to get noticed?
"Then let's go. This festival's a total waste of time," she said, lips pursed, vibe flat. "Oh, what about Venice and Berlin? Can you rig those too?"
Dunn shrugged. "Depends how many Hollywood jurors they've got. But if I offered every one of them a movie gig, how many do you think would say no?"
Natalie's mouth twitched, her look dripping with sarcasm. "Wow, so generous!"
Dunn sighed softly, shaking his head. "I don't love rigging it either. I'd rather film art stayed pure. But… I care more about you."
She knew what he meant and pressed her lips together. "Thanks. I'm feeling good now—Harvard's no big deal. My boyfriend didn't even finish high school, and he's still a massive deal, right?"
Dunn laughed hard, mood lifted.
…
Outside the screening hall, Dunn finally found Jonathan Demme, chatting it up with some director named Jiang.
But the second he saw Dunn, Jonathan ditched Jiang like yesterday's news. "Dunn! What a coincidence! Man, I really should've taken your offer to direct back then."
Dunn grinned, seizing the moment. "Yeah, it's a solid film—might even snag a big award!"
"Big award?"
Jonathan paused, thrown off.
"Yup," Dunn said, not holding back. "Best Actress at least—Nat's performance is unreal. You've gotta see it when it screens."
Jonathan chuckled. "Oh, for sure. I'm a juror—I'll watch all the entries and judge fairly."
Dunn cut to the chase. "Can you throw all your votes to and Natalie?"
Jonathan froze.
Back when he was gunning for Oscars, he'd lobbied voters too—but never this blunt. This shameless vote-begging? Only Harvey Weinstein pulled that off.
Natalie, mortified, wanted to vanish. She slipped away, pretending to study a poster.
Dunn, unfazed, kept going. "Jonathan, I need your votes. They could seal 's fate."
"Uh…"
Jonathan, a veteran director with some principles, wasn't comfy with such blatant rigging.
Dunn smiled. "How about I owe you one? Maybe I'll fund a film for you to direct. Dunn Films has some great projects lined up."
Not a lie, either.
He had a stash of suspense scripts from his writers—low-budget, 10-20 million tops. Plus, his head was full of classic movie blueprints.
Jonathan's thriller specialty? As long as the reviews weren't trash, it'd be a safe bet.
"No… no need. I'm working on a story," Jonathan said, waving it off. But when Dunn's face darkened, he backtracked fast. "But voting? If it's good, I'll definitely back Hollywood."
Dunn laughed loud. "Thanks, man! Trust me, Jonathan, is a banger!"
He was practically beaming.
He hadn't expected that taking down Jon Landau, slicing Bruce Willis, and facing off with Disney and Fox would leave such a fearsome rep. Even Jonathan Demme was spooked.
Guess a bad rep travels fast!
"Done?"
Natalie's voice floated over softly as Jonathan walked off.
Dunn grinned. "Yup, easy peasy. Luc Besson was the tough one. These two Hollywood types? Pressure and perks—it's a breeze."
She stared into his eyes, deep and searching. "You're actually pretty impressive."
He laughed, pulling her into a hug, voice dropping to a teasing whisper. "Last night, I was so gentle—didn't wanna hurt you. I've got even better moves, you know."
"You!" Natalie's cheeks flushed, her eyes flashing with playful defiance. "Once I'm back to normal, you're in trouble! Hmph!"
"Haha!"
Dear Nat—always a blast.