Hollywood: Lights, Ink, Entertainment!-Chapter 367: Awards Season 2014-2015 (2)

....

Following the [Best Supporting] Actor, won by Stephen Hawking Sr., came a few other categories.

The major wins for Regal is the–

[Best Original Score] went to Ludwig Göransson for [Superman].

It was his second Oscar in two years, which he accepted with the quiet happiness of someone who simply loved the work and was genuinely grateful the work was being recognized.

He thanked Regal who had given him the first chance and stayed with him throughout the years, and the audience watching from home could see the pure mutual respect and bond between the two craftsmen.

After that Ludwig didn’t forget to thank the orchestra, and he thanked his family.

[Best Cinematography] went to Leo Martinez.

[Best Sound Mixing] and [Best Sound Editing] followed for [Superman].

[Best Film Editing] for Zack Brag.

[Best Visual Effects] was shared between [Superman] and [Iron Man] - the Unique FX teams from both films accepting together, which generated one of the genuinely warm moments of the evening, two groups of people who had competed against each other in the category standing side by side, all of them working from scripts written by the same person.

The evening was building toward something.

Everyone in the room could feel it.

....

[Best Adapted Screenplay] in which Harry Potter was competing went to another film.

The room took a moment to absorb it.

It was, as the night would later establish, the only major category of the evening where Regal didn’t win.

He applauded the winner with everyone else. His expression was genuinely unbothered - he was a writer, and he understood that other people wrote good scripts too, and the recognition of the nominations alone was something he hadn’t expected when he had been finishing those drafts years earlier.

....

[Best Original Screenplay] came later in the evening - the vibe already charged with the accumulated energy of everything that had come before.

It became even more special as when–

Robert Downey Jr. walked out to present it.

He stood at the podium for a moment and looked at the card in his hand, then looked back up at the audience, and appeared to make a decision.

"So." he said. "Full disclosure... I am, and my team ’Iron Man’ was nominated in this category, alongside ’Superman’ with my dear friend Henry Cavill in it."

He waited for the room to catch up.

"Which means there is a very real chance I am about to watch my own writer lose to himself. The only person who can beat Regal Seraphsail–"

Robert said, with complete mock gravity.

"–is Regal Seraphsail himself. And that is both inspiring and deeply unfair."

Laughter from the audience. Regal, on camera, had his hand over his face.

Robert’s expression softened.

"But honestly, collaborating with Regal on [Iron Man] stands out as one of the most memorable experiences of my career. He wasn’t just writing Tony Stark as a character - he had already grasped who Tony truly was. The wit used as a shield for the pain, the brilliance hiding a deep insecurity, the man who built weapons and then had to confront what that legacy meant before choosing to create something better. All of that complexity was already there in the script when I arrived on set. All I had to do was step in and give it life."

He glanced toward the audience for a moment, his gaze settling somewhere in Regal’s direction. "And for that... no matter how this category turns out... thank you."

He opened the envelope.

"And the Oscar goes to–

"Regal Seraphsail. Superman: Man of Tomorrow."

....

Regal walked onto the stage as the applause continued rolling through the theater. He passed Robert at the podium, and the two of them pulled each other into a quick, solid hug before Robert pressed the Oscar into his hands.

"Here, man. Take it," Robert said with a grin. "Just remember I am borrowing it later for pictures."

"Deal." Regal replied.

Regal stepped up to the mic. He held the Oscar, looked at it for a moment, then looked back out at the room.

"I began writing when I was eighteen." he said. "It all started with just a few ideas, things I wanted to explore. The first time it really felt like a step forward was when I was twenty-three and started publishing web novels that, at best, reached a few thousand readers."

"Stories of hunters rising in power, readers pulled into the very narratives they once followed, and mysteries unfolding across entire dimensions."

He paused.

"I want to tell you what I have learned about stories, because I think it matters. Every story I have ever written - every single one - starts with the same question:

"What does this person want, and what are they afraid of? That’s it. That’s the whole secret. Hunters who want power but fear becoming monsters. Readers who want truth but fear what it costs.

"And tonight... an alien who longs to belong, yet fears what that belonging might ask him to give up."

The room was still.

"This belongs to Jerry Siegel, who asked that question about Superman decades ago and built something that’s still asking it today. To every writer who believes genre fiction is just a vehicle, and the story is the destination."

He stepped back slightly from the mic, and then something flashed across his face - something between mischief and apology.

"Right. I realize I haven’t actually thanked anyone yet. My team, my family, the crew... all of you deserve better than being treated like an afterthought."

He lifted a finger slightly.

"And since I have already taken enough of your time accepting this award... I will continue the rest of this speech in about fifteen minutes."

Then he simply walked off the stage.

"....."

For a brief second the room didn’t quite know what to do with that.

Then the laughter arrived - loud, genuine and fake spreading across the entire Dolby Theatre as nominees, studio heads, veteran filmmakers, and Hollywood legends all reacted to the sheer audacity of it.

A twenty-eight-year-old had just won Best Original Screenplay, casually paused his acceptance speech halfway through, and promised to finish it later.

Which immediately raised the question everyone in the room was thinking.

What exactly did that mean?

Because the implication was obvious: he expected to be back on that stage again soon.

And when he did return, apparently he intended to pick up right where he left off.

Whether that read as confidence or arrogance depended entirely on who you asked.

....

[Best Director] came near the end.

The room was still buzzing from what had happened ten minutes earlier.

People were whispering about it, grinning about it, some of them already reaching for their phones before being reminded cameras weren’t allowed.

There was a small contingent - not many, but present - who were privately hoping Regal would fumble it.

That the stunt would land badly.

The cameras were already locked on his face before his name was even read.

When it was - when the winner of Best Director at the 87th Academy Awards was confirmed as–

Regal Seraphsail

–the room responded with the warmth of people who had already decided they were witnessing something they would talk about for years.

He crossed the stage a second time that evening, took the statue from the presenter, stepped to the mic, and looked out at four thousand people.

The room responded warmly, and Regal crossed the stage a second time that evening, accepting the statue.

"...I am back."

Two words.

The cheer that erupted was, by any objective measure, the biggest reaction of the night.

It surpassed the response for the Supporting Actor win, even the earlier screenplay announcement.

Because this wasn’t just applause - it was the entire room paying out on a promise. Everyone understood it at the same moment, and the shared release of that tension rolled through the theatre all at once.

Regal waited for it to settle, his expression caught somewhere between delighted and genuinely overwhelmed.

"Continuation from the previous speech."

More laughter and he let it run.

"So." he continued, glancing briefly across the audience. "Earlier I talked about what stories are made of - a person, a want, and a fear." 𝒻𝑟𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝑛𝘰𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝘤𝘰𝘮

The room quieted.

"Stories are how we practice being human - how we step into choices we haven’t faced yet, feel the weight of losses we haven’t endured, and endure trials we may never experience ourselves.

"When you sit in a dark theatre watching a man from another world decide to protect people who owe him nothing, that isn’t escapism. It’s a rehearsal for hope, a way of understanding what it means to choose it even when the cost is everything."

He held up the Director Oscar.

"This belongs to everyone who believed superhero films could be more than spectacle. To Stephen, for trusting me with your return. To Henry, for embodying hope so completely that audiences stopped questioning whether they believed in it. To Leo, Zack, Ludwig - and every person who poured themselves into building something that meant something."

He paused, steadying himself before continuing.

"And to everyone watching tonight who dreams of telling stories that matter—

"Don’t let anyone convince you that genre fiction can’t be art. Don’t accept the idea that superhero films are incapable of asking difficult questions. And never dilute your vision in the name of commercial safety."

He stepped back. Then, almost too quiet to catch over the applause beginning to build:

"Make what matters. The rest will follow."

A beat.

"...Thank you. For real this time."

...

[Best Picture] was last, as always.

The announcement landed like a wave - [Superman: Man of Tomorrow] - and the entire team made their way to the stage.

Regal, Henry, Stephen rising from his seat for the second time that night, Leo, Ludwig, Katherine Bryce, the crew, the producers, everyone who had built the thing from the ground up.

Robert Downey Jr., who had absolutely no technical reason to be onstage, was already moving from his seat before the applause had fully started, because RDJ understood instinctively that this was a moment you joined, not watched.

The ovation continued as they assembled, over a minute. And when it finally settled, Regal stepped to the mic for the third time that night.

He looked out at the room and the team assembled behind him.

He thought about saying something funny - I am back again was right there, easy, the room would have loved it.

But he didn’t take it.

"...Huh. What exactly am I supposed to say now?" he said instead, almost to himself.

Robert, who had returned to the stage to present the award after apparently stepping in for someone at the last minute, leaned toward the microphone with a grin.

"Dude... stop flexing about the problem of succeeding too many times."

That landed immediately with the audience.

After a few more remarks, Regal lifted the Oscar in his hand, glancing down at it once before looking back out at the crowd.

"Thank you." he said. "All three times."

The entire Dolby Theatre rose to its feet.

....

.

[To be continued...]

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