制霸好莱坞

Jenny knew full well that Ann Benson would be a formidable opponent.

Back when they were both acting in CSI, there had been moments when Nick and Vanita's performances clashed—but that suppression, given their character dynamics, only heightened the audience's experience. For instance, Nick's actor, George, had been so surprised by Jenny's performance that his lines stumbled; a mishap that inadvertently worked in sync with Nick's character dynamic with Vanita. It was a lucky, mutually beneficial collaboration.

However, with Chicago the stakes were entirely different. This musical features two female protagonists—Velma and Roxy locked in constant, fierce competition. Every confrontation onstage forces the audience to choose a favorite. No matter who plays Velma or Roxy, comparisons are inevitable. Objectively speaking, Velma has always held an advantage: she is glamorous, energetic, and commands the stage. Roxy's character is more layered, offering greater room for nuance, but on pure visual appeal, Velma tends to steal the show.

In the past, Dietrich played Velma, and the contrast between her and Jenny was so stark that the natural advantage of the role was completely overshadowed. Now, with Dietrich out and Ann Benson stepping in, Jenny's first audition confirmed one thing: she wasn't on the same level as Dietrich. Ann—although not as physically flawless as Dietrich—boasted above‑average acting skills along with impressive singing and dancing abilities. With the plot's inherent bonus for Velma, Jenny now faced the very real possibility that Ann might not only match but even outshine her. It wasn't simply about "suppressing" a co-star—it was a fight for the limelight. The audience's attention might well be split, and Jenny would no longer be the sole star of the show.

A pang of bitterness crept into Jenny's heart. In just over a month, she had grown accustomed to having all eyes on her. Every day, when she signed autographs, fans would exclaim, "I came to see the show for you!" and "You're the brightest star on stage!"—reminding her that Chicago was originally meant to be a two-protagonist play. But Jenny was not Dietrich; she couldn't simply adopt Dietrich's tricks. If she lacked the confidence to perform alongside Ann—who, with several years in the industry and a more impressive, orthodox resume, was being hailed as the new star—how could she ever hope to stand tall against future best-actress contenders?

Yet true talent is never afraid of a challenge. After several rehearsals, Jenny began to see the potential in this rivalry. This wasn't a zero-sum game—the suspense of a live performance wouldn't be revealed until the very end. Although Dietrich had been completely suppressed during rehearsals, the audience and even James hadn't noticed; Ann was no slouch either. Without the assistance of her "golden finger" trick, Jenny still knew she could hold her own, because she had been growing stronger with every performance.

During the premiere week, Jenny had relied on her "cheat code"—a secret method to boost her performance for a few minutes at a time. Over the weeks, she refined this technique so that turning it on and off became nearly seamless. Yet after a while, she began blending genuine acting with her trick, and the feedback on the discussion board began to reflect subtle differences. Comments appeared like, "Roxy was steady, but I think Jenny sang 'Nowadays' better yesterday..." Such observations, along with her detailed performance diary maintained for each show, confirmed that her acting was evolving—even if the external applause sometimes seemed influenced by the novelty of a new talent.

In time, the audience's response to the singing and dancing became consistent, while reviews of the acting and dialogue started to split: days when she used her golden finger were praised as "moving" and "in perfect condition," and natural performances were described as "sparkling and touching." Jenny herself sensed that she was gradually mastering the art of losing herself in the role while still maintaining a core of self-awareness. With every performance, her immersion in the character grew, and soon she began to feel that her acting—whether aided by her technique or not—was reaching new heights.

The regular audience feedback, combined with her technical rehearsals (James had even arranged for full recordings of her performances so she could review them later), allowed her to improve faster than ever. Just last week, for the first time without using her cheat code at all, Jenny managed to deliver a flawless performance. In a recent rehearsal with Ann, Jenny even arranged for Mary to record the entire show (a minor breach of protocol, but a privilege granted by James). After watching the recording, she concluded that on that day she and Ann had performed on par, sharing the spotlight evenly.

Yet Jenny couldn't shake the nagging feeling that critics might not be entirely objective. Having only recently been "airdropped" into stardom by connections, many in the troupe still whispered that her talent was only so-so. In contrast, Ann's industry experience—stemming from Dietrich's legacy—meant that critics would naturally lean in her favor. Moreover, as the novelty of Jenny's performances began to fade for regular audiences, the allure of a fresh face like Ann remained potent. In the entertainment world, the public's appetite for the new is insatiable. Even if Jenny's abilities were improving, if her progress didn't keep pace with the arrival of fresh talent, she risked being abandoned by both critics and fans.

In short, the matchup was doomed to be unfair from the start. Jenny could already predict the outcome: both she and Ann would deliver stellar performances, appearing equally matched on stage. Yet, reviews would likely favor Ann. Some critics would write that "Ann Benson overwhelmed Jennifer Jefferson," while others would concede, "Jennifer finally met a strong opponent—though she performed admirably…" Ultimately, the consensus would be that "Chicago now boasts two leading actresses who are leagues above the rest. This year's Tony Awards belong to them both."

Perhaps selfishly, Jenny didn't want any "buts." Of course, she hoped that Chicago would be hailed as a masterpiece and win the Tonys, but if the outcome depended on the critics hedging their praise, she would rather not share the glory. Deep down, she felt a twinge of sympathy for Ann; she had wished for a fair contest where neither side had to resort to any tricks. Yet when reality failed to live up to her hopes, she found herself switching her golden finger back on.

As the signal to go on stage was given, Jenny walked briskly through the darkened wings and reached her position. She listened to Ann's mesmerizing rendition of "All That Jazz," counting beats in her heart.

"3, 2, 1, 3, 2, 1…"

In that moment—when the stage lights shifted and the performance space filled with energy—Jenny activated her secret technique with skill. "She's a strong opponent," she whispered to herself. "But I will win."

The spotlight bathed her in brilliance as she opened her eyes, feeling better than ever.

She will win.

Later, in the audience, veteran critic Brantley was watching intently. Although he'd seen Chicago several times before, he always came specifically to watch Jennifer. Over the years, he'd followed the buzz on the IMDB discussion board (even if he occasionally skimmed over the celebrity gossip), and he was intimately familiar with her work. But tonight, something was different. Jennifer's state of performance, usually as steady as clockwork, seemed unusually electrified. While she never delivered a performance that was exceptionally above her norm, tonight she unleashed an extra burst—120% firepower right from the opening moments. Every gesture, every step, and every line resonated with unprecedented emotion.

"Did she hold back before, just to accommodate Dietrich?" Brantley wondered. "If that's the case, then her true level might be even higher."

He felt a mix of relief and awe. It was not uncommon for an actor's breakthrough to come from sharing the stage with a formidable talent. Each time he witnessed such a miraculous ascent on Broadway, he felt a pang of envy and helpless admiration—a reminder that true talent can be almost miraculous, even if he himself was merely an observer.

From the time Ann Benson signed her contract until her debut performance, barely half a month had passed. And Jennifer, on stage for only a month and a half, managed to build on her previous perfection to create another miracle on top of a miracle. That feeling—of "this is impossible"—made Brantley disregard even Ann's excellence, focusing solely on what Jennifer was capable of achieving.

On stage, Ann's performance was undeniably brilliant. After her first act in "All That Jazz," she delivered a mesmerizing "Cell Block Tango" that left the audience in rapturous applause. Yet despite Ann's undeniable talent, Jennifer's presence was magnetic. Even when sharing scenes, Jennifer's aura was irresistible—an aura that seemed to command the stage as if it were her own birthday celebration, with every member of the audience a devoted guest. Neither Ann nor Dietrich could challenge that dominance.

There were subtle differences, of course. When competing against Dietrich, the clash was familiar and expected. But now, with Ann as the strong opponent, the audience felt as though they were witnessing a series of climaxes—a multi-layered, spiritual thrill ride. The energy surged from Ann's first dance, building continuously until it reached a fever pitch during Jennifer's reappearance after a brief solo by lawyer Billy.

In one electrifying scene, the two leading ladies engaged in a dance battle that set the theater alight. Velma and Roxy exchanged barbed lines and seductive glances, their movements igniting cheers and whistles from the audience. At one point, a fan named Joan screamed, "I really hope this never ends!" as she begged her friend Harry to secure tickets for the next performance. Even experienced fans, expecting only a few signatures from Jennifer after the show, were stunned to find hundreds already queued outside.

Backstage, however, Jennifer was much calmer. After two performances in one day—a severe test of physical endurance, especially given her heightened excitement from competing with Ann—she was nearly exhausted. Still, she couldn't head home immediately. With an after-party looming for Ann's debut, and the inevitable rumor mill in full swing, Jenny changed quickly, grabbed a few minutes' rest in the performance space, and then joined the lively gathering.

As always, once the party began, compliments and greetings flowed freely. Even though it was officially Ann's celebration, everyone's attention still circled back to Jennifer—an affirmation of her success that Brantley and other critics had noted in their reviews. Feeling triumphant, she made her way over to Cesare, eager to flaunt her victory and tease him about his persistent doubts.

"Good evening," she began with a toast. Before she could continue, she noticed Cesare's stiff nod and asked, "What's wrong, Cesare?"

He didn't hide his thoughts. "Did you see Agata?" he asked quietly.

Jenny spotted Agata in the crowd, chatting with Ann Benson. "What happened?"

"The man next to Agata is her good friend," Cesare explained. "I worked hard to get him to come watch tonight through Agata's connections—but it seems my efforts ended up benefiting someone else. He's more interested in Ann than in you."

Jenny scanned the room. The man Cesare mentioned had been standing by her side earlier, but now he seemed disinterested. It wasn't Cesare's, Agata's, or even her fault—people clearly gravitate toward Ann's type.

"I'm not everyone's cup of tea," Jenny said with a wry smile, trying to comfort Cesare. "But tell me—who is he? Why does he matter so much to you?"

Cesare's tone turned flat as he launched into a series of numbers. "During your run in Chicago this year, there are 12 B-level productions yet to cast their leads or first supporting actresses, and three A-level productions that are in the formal preparation stage. In total, that's roughly 16 films with 78 potential leading roles. Among these, 23 are for permanent residents or those who frequently work in New York. I've already been in contact with 16 of them—one for each movie."

Jenny's eyes widened as she listened. Cesare's calculations made him sound less like an agent and more like a financial wizard. "Damn," she muttered. "So you really have it all figured out? Is this whole musical just a way to display your merchandise?"

Cesare brushed off her remark and raised his chin toward Agata. "Gore Verbinski is the most important among these contacts," he said. "He represents the A-level production I'm most optimistic about."

"What?" Jenny's heart sank. "What production?"

After a brief, pensive pause—and a long sip from his glass—Cesare replied, "Disney's big hit next year."

"Pirates of the Caribbean…" Jenny echoed weakly.

"Damn," she murmured.

Author's Note:Gore Verbinski is a real person—the director of the first three Pirates of the Caribbean films, one of the most profitable franchises in film history.