บท 24: F*ck
(??? POV)
The name's Rupert Darkflame. Yeah, that Darkflame family. The one with the famous actors. But unlike my younger brother Damien, I'm not exactly the family's pride and joy.
For 30 years, I've been waiting. Hoping. Praying to whatever dark gods would listen for a demon studio to create a film I could proudly call a masterpiece. But year after year, I've been disappointed.
It's why I'm not following in Damien's footsteps. Why my family looks at me like I'm some kind of failed experiment. Because I refuse to settle for mediocrity.
Ten years ago, I made my debut. The film was trash, pure and simple. I can still hear the snickers from demons, humans, and elves alike. It was... humiliating.
So I quit. Or at least, that's what everyone thinks. My family tried to talk me out of it. "Who cares what they think?" they said. "The money's good, isn't it?"
But I couldn't accept that. Is it so wrong to want to be part of something... good?
I've been searching ever since. Meeting with studio executives, trying to find someone who gets it. But all they see are dollar signs. They don't understand that quality and profit aren't mutually exclusive. Make a good film, and the money will follow. Is that concept really so hard to grasp?
The demon film industry... it infuriates me. We're so far behind, it's embarrassing.
But now... now I'm watching "The Demonfather," and I've lost count of how many times I've felt goosebumps. It's... it's everything I've been waiting for.
And yet, I feel... conflicted. Regretful.
A few weeks ago, I received a script. "The Demonfather," it was called. I barely skimmed it before tossing it aside. It didn't seem interesting, and when I saw the writer's name - Arthur Morningstar - I scoffed. Threw it back to my manager without a second thought.
Now? Now I'm kicking myself. Hard.
As I watch this film unfold, as I see the depth, the nuance, the sheer craftsmanship on display, I can't help but think of what could have been. I could have been part of this. I could have been up there on that screen, making history.
Instead, I'm just another face in the crowd, watching as someone else - someone I dismissed - redefines demon cinema.
I've spent years searching for the perfect demon film, only to reject it when it was right in front of me. All because I couldn't see past a name, past my own preconceptions.
As the film continues, I find myself both elated and devastated. Elated because finally, finally, there's a demon film worthy of praise.
I watch, transfixed, as Sonny's character unfolds on screen. The role I was supposed to play. The role I rejected like an idiot. Sonny's hot-headed, sure, but there's something endearing about his fierce protectiveness of his sister.
When he beats the hell out of Carlo for abusing Connie, I can't help but nod in approval. But then... Carlo's abuse escalates, and I feel a knot forming in my stomach. If I were Sonny, I'd do more than just rough the bastard up. I'd end him.
Seems I'm not alone in that sentiment. The theater is buzzing with barely contained rage.
A frost demon in front of me snarls, "If I met that Carlo guy in person, I'd give him a taste of my Glacier Crush spell. See how he likes being on the receiving end of some pain."
"Glacier Crush? Too quick," a succubus to my left hisses. "I'd torture him slowly. Make him beg for death."
I can't help but chuckle darkly at their words. Glancing towards the front rows, I spot the actor who plays Carlo squirming in his seat. Poor bastard. Hope he's got good security when he leaves the theater.
As the scene continues, showing a pregnant Connie enduring more abuse, I feel my blood boil. Damn it, Sonny. How can you not know what's happening? The audience around me is practically frothing at the mouth, desperate for some sweet, sweet revenge.
The scene shifts, and we see a woman tending to children when the phone rings. She answers, and her expression changes as she listens to the voice on the other end. Without a word, she hands the phone to Sonny.
"What?" Sonny's surprise quickly morphs into fury. His eyes blaze with a rage that sends a shiver down my spine. "You just wait there."
He slams the phone down, muttering through gritted teeth, "That son of a bitch."
The anticipation in the theater is palpable. I can feel it crackling in the air around me. This is it. Carlo's about to get what's coming to him, and by the dark gods, we're all here for it.
Sonny, true to his hot-headed nature, storms out and jumps into his car. The Corleone men look on, bewildered by his sudden fury, but they don't dare intervene. As Sonny peels away, the excitement in the audience reaches a fever pitch.
That loudmouth dwarf from earlier is at it again, but this time, his outburst mirrors what we're all thinking. "Haha! Sonny's about to whoop that Carlo's ass!" he exclaims, practically bouncing in his seat.
For once, nobody shushes him. We're all too caught up in the moment, too eager to see justice served.
I can't help but smile, agreeing with the dwarf's excitement. We're all anticipating some well-deserved payback.
But as the scene shifts to a toll booth, I feel a strange sense of unease creeping in.
"Why does this scene at the toll booth need to be included?" I mutter, more to myself than anyone else.
The human beside me chuckles, "It's filler, obviously."
I shake my head, unconvinced. "Filler? So far, this film hasn't wasted a single frame. It's... odd."
"Heh, you're only saying that because it's the first time we've seen such an engaging demon film," the human replies with a smirk. "Just watch the movie."
I settle back into my seat, uneasy as Sonny waits for the toll booth operator. The tension in the theater is palpable.
Suddenly, the tall booth operator ducks, and several demon men emerge, wielding Tommy guns adorned with powerful runic magic. They're aiming straight at Sonny.
"Shit!" I exclaim, my heart racing. "Those are enchanted weapons! They'll tear through protection spells like paper!"
Someone nearby shouts, desperation in their voice, "Run, Sonny! Get out of there!"
The audience is in an uproar. Despite Sonny's hot-headedness, he's become a favorite. He's the character I should have played, and now...
It's over in seconds. The scene that should have been Sonny's moment of revenge becomes his brutal end. The gunshots are deafening as Sonny tries to escape, but it's futile. He's caught in a hail of bullets, falling to the ground only to be riddled with more.
"Fuck," I curse under my breath, watching Sonny's life ebb away in a pool of blood.
"This is bullshit!" someone nearby shouts, echoing the sentiment rippling through the crowd.
The shock in the theater is palpable. This isn't how it was supposed to go. Sonny was supposed to save the day, to be the avenging brother. Instead, he's been cut down in a moment of vulnerability, caught off guard and alone.
As the scene fades, I'm left with a whirlwind of emotions.
---
Sorry for the title. I really couldn't think of a good title for this chapter.
บท 25: I'm a true critic
(Raymond Crow's POV)
I'm the poor sap who played Carlo.
Right now, I'm feeling the heat of a hundred deadly stares boring into the back of my head. Those tough-looking demons and stocky dwarves? They're looking at me like they're planning my murder in excruciating detail.
Being a half-demon, half-human hasn't exactly been a walk in the park. Humans don't trust me, demons look down on me. It's why I chose to settle in the Morningstar Kingdom.
Sure, it's a demon realm, but the discrimination here is... well, let's say it's the lesser of two evils.
Right now, though? I'm wondering if I made the right choice. The hatred radiating from the audience is almost tangible. I can practically taste it.
And yet... there's a part of me that's thrilled. Terrified, sure, but also exhilarated. For the first time in my career, people are reacting to my performance. Strongly. Viscerally.
It's not the adoration I dreamed of, but hey, any attention is good attention in this business, right?
I've always dreamed of being a star, but good roles for someone like me? They're rarer than a kind word in the nine hells.
I've often thought about packing up and trying my luck in the dwarven kingdoms or maybe even with the elves. Their entertainment industry is light-years ahead of ours.
But now? Now I'm not so sure I need to leave. Because this film, this "Demonfather," it's something else entirely. And it was made right here, in the demon realm I'd almost given up on.
And it was created by Arthur Morningstar, the prince I've been previously despising. The guy I thought was just another entitled royal brat playing at being an artist. Shows what I know, huh?
As I watch the audience react - humans, elves, dwarves, demons, all captivated by the same story - I can't help but smile. Yeah, they hate my character right now. They probably want to see Carlo suffer a slow, painful death. But that hatred? It's born from investment in the story. In the characters. In this world Arthur has created.
I might be public enemy number one in this theater right now, but I'm also part of something groundbreaking. Something that could change everything for actors like me.
So let them glare. Let them mutter their threats. I'll take it all with a smile. Because for the first time in my career, I'm part of a film that matters.
***
(??? POV)
If someone had told me this morning that I'd be utterly engrossed in a demon film by nightfall, I'd have laughed in their face. But here I am, Dianne James, esteemed elf critic from the Moon Kingdom, completely captivated by "The Demonfather."
It's as if the sun has decided to rise in the west. A demon film, of all things, has managed to engage every fiber of my being.
We elves from the Moon Kingdom, we're known for our prowess in arts and music.
And as a critic? Well, let's just say "picky" doesn't even begin to cover it.
Take that human film "Stars in the Cave," for instance. Humans raved about it, called it a masterpiece. Me? I gave it a 3.1-star rating. You'd have thought I'd insulted their firstborns.
"You don't know anything about films, Dianne," they said.
"Dianne James doesn't know what she's talking about."
I just scoffed. If only they knew that a 3.1 from me is practically a standing ovation. In my three years as a critic, I've never given higher than a 3.4 - and that was to "The Moon's Lullaby," a film from my home kingdom.
But this... this "Demonfather." If it maintains this quality to the end, I might just do the unthinkable. I might give it a full 5 stars.
The thought both excites and terrifies me. A perfect score? From me? To a demon film, no less? It's unprecedented. It's almost scandalous.
And yet, as I watch the story unfold, as I find myself invested in these demon characters and their complex world, I can't deny the artistry on display. The nuanced storytelling, the compelling performances, the sheer audacity of its vision - it's unlike anything I've seen before.
I can already imagine the uproar my review will cause. My fellow elf critics will be appalled. The humans will cry foul, accusing me of bias against their works. And the demons? They probably won't believe it themselves.
But a critic's job isn't to pander to expectations or maintain the status quo. It's to recognize and celebrate true artistry, wherever it may be found.
And if that artistry happens to come from an unexpected source - a demon prince, of all people - then so be it.
As I'm lost in thought, contemplating the potential impact of my review, my fellow elf critic, Ryu, interrupts with a complaint.
"If Carlo isn't killed for being responsible for Sonny's death, then I don't care how good the film is. I'll give it a bad review," he declares, his voice dripping with disdain.
I can't help but sigh. This is exactly the kind of short-sighted critique that gives critics a bad name. "Well, you really can't rate a film like that just because you hate one character," I point out. "A good critic should evaluate the film as a whole - its narrative structure, character development, cinematography, and overall impact. You shouldn't let personal feelings about a single character overshadow the entire work."
Ryu scoffs, clearly not impressed by my attempt at wisdom. "Feelings definitely matter in rating, Dianne. If I don't like it, I'll rate it badly."
I shrug, realizing this is a losing battle. "Your life, your choice," I concede. "Just watch the film and see if it will satisfy your 'feelings'."
I can feel Ryu's annoyance radiating off him, but I choose to ignore it. There's no point in arguing further. Instead, I turn my attention back to the screen, eager to see how the story unfolds.
As I refocus on the film, I can't help but reflect on the difference between Ryu's approach and my own. Yes, emotional engagement is important in cinema. But allowing a knee-jerk reaction to a single plot point to determine your entire opinion of a film? That's not criticism. That's just being a fan - or in this case, an anti-fan.
True criticism requires objectivity, the ability to step back and evaluate the work as a whole. It's about recognizing artistry and craftsmanship, even in stories or characters we might not personally like.
And "The Demonfather," regardless of what happens to Carlo, has displayed an abundance of both artistry and craftsmanship. Whatever comes next, I'm determined to judge it fairly, based on its merits as a complete work of cinema.
As the next scene begins, I lean forward slightly, my critical faculties fully engaged. Let's see what other surprises this demon film has in store for us.
This film is nothing short of a rollercoaster, each scene more gripping than the last. The attempt on Don Corleone's life, the tense hospital scene with Michael protecting his vulnerable father, the humiliation of Michael followed by his cold revenge - each moment is etched into my memory with stunning clarity.
And then there's Carlo's abuse of Connie, her heartbreaking call to Sonny, and the shocking twist of Sonny's death just when we thought he was riding to the rescue.
These scenes don't just play out on the screen; they resonate within me, sending shivers down my spine and raising goosebumps on my skin.
The artistry is undeniable. Each actor embodies their character with such conviction that I often forget I'm watching a performance. It's as if I'm peering through a window into this complex, dangerous world.
Of course, there's the unexpected nudity in Michael's scene with Apollonia. It's tastefully done, but as a woman, I can't help but feel a twinge of disapproval at Michael's betrayal of Kay.
Yes, multiple wives aren't uncommon in the world, but Michael's secrecy about it leaves a bitter taste.
I find myself sympathizing with Kay, left alone and worrying. Perhaps it's because she's an elf like me, but I think it's more than that.
Her situation speaks to a universal fear of betrayal and abandonment.
Despite these moral quandaries - or perhaps because of them - I find myself utterly engrossed in the film. It's not just entertaining; it's challenging. It's forcing me to confront my own beliefs and prejudices, to question the nature of loyalty, family, and power.
This, I realize, is what great cinema does. It doesn't just show us a story; it makes us part of it. It provokes thought, stirs emotion, and lingers in the mind long after the credits roll.
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