บท 26: Unforgettable scenes
(Mark Stark POV)
I can't help but sigh, my mind a whirlwind of worry as I watch this film. As a family man myself, I find myself relating to "The Demonfather" in ways I never expected.
I'm from the Leaf Kingdom on the Evros Continent, a noble lord from a family of moderate wealth and power. My presence in the Morningstar Kingdom was supposed to be purely business - a quick trip, a few meetings, and back home to my own troubles.
But fate, it seems, had other plans. My demon business partner got caught up in this Ferland Demon Film Festival, leaving me at loose ends in a city I found, quite frankly, mind-numbingly dull.
So here I am, watching a demon film of all things, more out of boredom than any real interest. Or at least, that's how it started.
Now, hours have passed, and I'm glued to my seat. I glance at my watch, startled to see that two hours have flown by.
The film isn't even over yet, and you know what? I don't care. If it goes on for another hour, I'll sit here like an obedient hound, hanging on every word, every scene.
Because this story of a powerful family brought low by rival schemes? It hits close to home. Too close, perhaps. I see myself in Don Corleone, a man trying to navigate the treacherous waters of power and family.
The scene where Don Vito sets aside his bitterness towards the five families to stop a war... it's left me feeling conflicted. Rationally, I know it's the right move. But emotionally? There's a part of me that yearns for revenge, that wants to see the Don strike back at those who wronged him.
I find myself sighing again, and I'm not alone. All around me, I hear similar sounds of frustration and concern. None of us want to see this end in disappointment. We're all invested now, all hoping for... what? Justice? Revenge? Peace? I'm not even sure anymore.
What I do know is that this film has done something I never thought possible. It's made me, a human noble, empathize with a demon character. It's made me see past the horns and the red skin to the universal struggles of family, power, and morality.
As the film continues, I find myself on the edge of my seat, my business worries momentarily forgotten. Right now, all that matters is the fate of the Corleone family. Because in a strange way, it feels like my own fate hangs in the balance.
Though I hated seeing Don Corleone back down from revenge, I feel a glimmer of hope when Michael returns to Empirica, to Apple City. But my heart aches for him. Learning of his brother's death and losing Apollonia in that explosion... it's tragedy piled upon tragedy. It's enough to break anyone.
I'm amazed Michael hasn't lost his mind. In his shoes, I'd be consumed by hatred, driven mad by grief. But Michael... he's composed, eerily so. Yet beneath that calm exterior, I can see a controlled rage simmering. I'm not the only one noticing the change in the once enthusiastic Michael.
As the story progresses, Michael seems to grow more indifferent, especially after becoming the head of the Corleone family. Even with Kay, he's distant now.
Watching Moe Greene humiliate Michael and Fredo, I can see Michael containing himself, his eyes betraying a controlled anger. Even Moe notices, but he keeps pushing, mocking the once-powerful Corleone family.
Around me, I hear murmurs of discontent.
"Is it always going to be like this?" someone whispers.
Another voice chimes in, "Are we just wasting our time watching this fallen family get humiliated?"
"I want to see Michael kill his enemies," a third person grumbles.
I chuckle softly. That's what I'm hoping for too, but the Corleones seem powerless now, standing only because of the old Don's reputation.
Then, our fears are realized. The old Don dies while playing with his grandchild.
I can't help but sigh. "It's hopeless for the Corleone now," the person beside me says.
"I hate to say it, but I agree," I reply.
"Damn," he sighs. "I'm only staying to see how it ends. Whether it's the destruction of the Corleone or not, I want to see it through."
"Me too," I nod.
The funeral scene unfolds, and I grit my teeth seeing the rival Dons, especially that wolf demon, Don Barzini, barely hiding their glee.
As Michael welcomes them, someone nearby complains, "Ugh. This is it. I thought this film was good. I didn't think it was just a story of a fallen family."
The baptism scene begins, and I hear demons around me scoffing at the idea of a demon embracing the Solarus faith. I can only laugh inwardly at their reaction.
But then, the music shifts. It doesn't match the baptism at all.
"The soundtrack doesn't fit this scene," someone points out.
"Yeah, something's off," another agrees.
And they're right. Suddenly, we see flashes of Corleone men preparing weapons. The contrast between the peaceful baptism and these ominous preparations is chilling.
As the priest continues to chant, the tension in the theater is palpable. We're all on the edge of our seats, sensing that something big is about to happen.
Could it be? Is Michael about to turn the tables? After all this buildup, all this apparent defeat, are we finally going to see the Corleone family rise again?
The tension in the theater is electric as the scene alternates between the baptism and the Corleone enemies, seemingly relaxed and unaware.
The priest's voice cuts through the silence: "Michael, do you believe in the Lord of Light, the God of the Sun, Solarus?"
"I do."
The scene shifts to Don Barzini, the wolf demon, strolling down the street, oblivious to what's coming.
"Do you believe that Sun God is the only God that cares for us all, no matter our race?"
Michael's calm reply sends chills down my spine: "I do."
Goosebumps ripple across my skin as we watch the Corleone men meticulously preparing, the baby's cries adding an eerie backdrop.
"Michael, do you renounce your ancestor, the evil lord?"
My eyes widen as the scenes unfold with brutal efficiency. A rival Don, laughing with his friends, is suddenly kicked by Peter and shot with an enhanced shotgun.
Michael's indifferent voice: "I do renounce him."
Moe Greene, relaxing during a massage, barely has time to put on his glasses before he's shot directly in the eyes.
"Holy Hellfire!" someone shouts, their voice a mix of shock and awe.
One by one, the Corleone enemies meet their ends. Don Tattaglia, caught in bed with a woman, is riddled with bullets from a Tommy guns.
"I do renounce them," Michael intones, as the massacre continues.
My heart is racing. This is it. This is the revenge we've been waiting for, executed with cold, ruthless precision.
The wolf demon, Don Barzini, tries to escape using a physical enhancement spell, but even that's not enough. He's cut down by a skilled shot from a police officer - clearly on the Corleone payroll.
Around me, the audience is in an uproar. Gone is the disappointment from earlier, replaced by a mix of shock, excitement, and grudging admiration.
"By the nine hells," the demon next to me whispers, "Michael's pulled it off."
An elf behind me can't contain her amazement: "The contrast... the baptism and the killings... it's horrifying and brilliant at the same time."
I find myself nodding in agreement. This scene, this juxtaposition of sacred ritual and calculated violence, is unlike anything I've ever seen in cinema.
As the baptism concludes and the last of the Corleone enemies falls, a hush falls over the theater. We're all trying to process what we've just witnessed.
Then, slowly, a wave of applause begins to build. It starts as a few scattered claps, then grows into a thunderous ovation.
I join in, my hands stinging from the force of my clapping.
As the applause continues, I can't help but marvel at the journey this film has taken us on. From despair to triumph, from powerlessness to calculated revenge. And at the center of it all, Michael Corleone, baptized in both water and blood.
บท 27: Masterpiece
(Dianne James' POV)
It's happening right before my eyes - a demon film that has the audience applauding even before it ends. I can scarcely believe it, yet I understand their reaction completely.
The juxtaposition of the killings with Michael swearing by Solarus' name during the baptism - it's undeniably evil, yes. But it's also... brilliant. Even that word feels inadequate to describe the mastery of this scene.
I find myself in a moral quandary. How can something so sinister, so morally reprehensible, be so captivating? Then it hits me - we've been rooting for a demon crime family all along. Yet, I can't bring myself to care. It's fiction, after all, and what matters is its breathtaking execution.
As the film nears its end, another scene stirs something deep within me. Kay confronts Michael about the massacres, and he denies involvement. The moment Michael's eyes change, I feel a chill run down my spine. It's deliciously, terrifyingly evil.
When Kay, convinced by Michael's lies, kisses him, I can't help but pity her. "Poor, naive girl," I mutter under my breath.
The final shot - the door closing on Kay as Michael receives his men's loyalty - it's a masterful touch. As the credits roll and that Demonfather soundtrack plays, I find myself unexpectedly emotional. Without realizing it, I'm on my feet, applauding.
Beside me, Ryukyu is practically bouncing with excitement. "It was amazing!" he exclaims, his earlier criticism forgotten.
I nod, a smile tugging at my lips. "I agree," I say, surprised to find myself in complete accord with him for once.
***
(Eric Roosevelt's POV)
My mind is racing, my palms sweaty with excitement. I must secure the rights to this film, no matter the cost. It's not just about profit anymore - though that's certainly part of it. This masterpiece needs to be seen by every citizen of Empirica.
The goosebumps on my skin haven't subsided. In all my years in the industry, I've never seen anything quite like this.
I'm on my feet, clapping until my hands sting. The applause has been going for a full ten minutes now - a record, and one I never would have expected for a demon film.
As I look around the theater, I see demons, humans, elves, all united in their appreciation of this cinematic triumph. It's more than just entertainment - it's a cultural phenomenon in the making.
"Unbelievable," I hear someone nearby mutter. "A demon film... who would have thought?"
I grin to myself. Who indeed? But that's the beauty of it. "The Demonfather" has just shattered every preconception about demon cinema, about what's possible in film regardless of who's making it.
As the applause finally begins to die down, I'm already planning my next move. I need to find the director behind this, to secure those distribution rights before anyone else realizes what a goldmine they're sitting on.
As the director, crew, and cast step onto the stage, my wide smile falters. There, standing before us, is Arthur Morningstar. I'd completely forgotten about him.
For three hours, I was so engrossed in this masterpiece that I'd forgotten it was the creation of a demon prince everyone looks down upon. A prince I'd dismissed without a second thought.
I quickly shake my head, steeling my resolve. It doesn't matter if this film came from the evil lord himself. I will get the rights for it!
***
(Arthur's POV)
I've done it. I've finally done it.
The audience is impressed. Their applause washes over me like a wave, validating all our hard work. For a moment, I find myself waiting for a system notification, a sign that I've fulfilled my mission. Then I remember - I need to make this a "box office success" to complete the task.
Focus, Arthur. One step at a time.
I step up to the microphone, scanning the sea of faces before me. Demons, humans, elves - all united in their appreciation of our work. It's a sight I never thought I'd see.
"I am glad that everyone was enjoying the film from this 'trashy prince'," I say, unable to keep a hint of satisfaction from my voice. "I am honored."
Laughter ripples through the audience. Some laugh out of embarrassment, realizing they'd underestimated me.
Others laugh with genuine mirth, appreciating the irony. A few, I notice, don't laugh at all - they're too busy reassessing everything they thought they knew about demon cinema.
I don't care about the reasons. What matters is that we've made an impact. Me, my team, we've done what everyone said was impossible.
As I look out at the crowd, I catch sight of a human in expensive clothes, his eyes gleaming with a look I recognize all too well. It's the look of someone who's just spotted a golden opportunity.
Inwardly, I smile. Let them come. Let them see what this 'trashy prince' can do. Because this? This is just the beginning.
I can't help but smirk as I continue my speech. "Some were calling my film 'trash' before it even began."
Another wave of laughter ripples through the audience. They remember the naysayers, the doubters. My eyes find the guy in the front row who had been particularly vocal about his low expectations. He's shrinking in his seat now, trying to avoid the stares. Part of me wants to revel in his discomfort, but I decide to take the high road.
Clearing my throat, I redirect the attention. "What you've witnessed today wouldn't have been possible without my team... and the incredible actors who took a chance on me and this project."
The audience breaks into genuine applause, and I feel a surge of pride for my crew.
"Of course," I add with a self-deprecating chuckle, "while they believed in me, they also had their doubts. My infamous reputation preceded me, after all." More laughter. "But today... I've proved the doubters wrong and the believers right."
Suddenly, a voice cuts through the crowd: "Woo! You did good, Michael!"
The audience erupts in laughter, and more voices join in.
"You're amazing, Michael!"
"You're my new idol!"
I can't help but smile wryly at the comments. "Easy there," I say, holding up my hands in mock surrender. "Stop calling me Michael before I forget my own name."
The laughter that follows is warm, appreciative. It's a far cry from the skepticism I faced just hours ago.
As I wrap up my speech, I decide to go out with a bang. "Today, we didn't just introduce a colored film. We introduced a masterpiece." It's a bold claim, but looking out at the sea of impressed faces, I know no one's going to argue.
Then, with a playful glint in my eye, I add, "If anyone here wants to discuss the colored camera technology or the rights to our film, you can talk to me later. I'm very eager about it."
More laughter, some cheers. I can see a few industry bigwigs perking up at this, their eyes gleaming with interest.
With a final wave, I step down from the stage, my heart pounding with a mixture of exhilaration and relief.
As I make my way through the crowd, I'm accosted by well-wishers, critics eager for interviews, and more than a few industry players trying to get a word in about distribution rights.
But amid the chaos, my mind is already racing ahead. This is just the beginning. We've proven what we can do, but now... now it's time to build on this success.
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