In the earlier nomination announcements, The Dark Knight had secured ten nominations: Best Supporting Actor, Best Sound Editing, Best Film Editing, Best Cinematography, Best Art Direction, Best Sound Mixing, Best Visual Effects, Best Makeup—as well as two additional ones not in the original list, Best Director and Best Actor.
Ten nominations made the film once again the brightest star at the Oscars. Not even the much-anticipated Slumdog Millionaire could match its momentum.
This year's host was Hugh Jackman, taking on the role for the first time. Despite being a newcomer to Oscar hosting, he handled it with flair and charm, delivering witty lines that drew wave after wave of applause. The atmosphere in the venue was electric.
Soon, the awards began. Noticing Roy frequently checking his watch, Nolan couldn't help but tease him, "How long have you been away from Laila? You already that eager to run back?"
"The doctor said she could go into labor any day now. I didn't want to leave her at a time like this." Roy managed to maintain his award-winning actor composure, but his slightly rushed tone gave away his underlying anxiety.
Nolan chuckled and patted him on the shoulder. "It won't be long. You told me the same thing last week when I called you."
"I really wouldn't have come, but Laila insisted I accept the award on her behalf." If it weren't for her request, he'd never have left her side. Heaven knows—if he missed the birth of their little princess, he'd regret it for the rest of his life.
"Alright, alright, I'm not saying another word about you two," Nolan said, shaking his head in defeat. One was a wife-obsessed maniac, the other a trophy magnet—if anyone said they weren't made for each other, Nolan would be the first to argue otherwise.
Calling her a "trophy magnet" wasn't even an exaggeration. After ten years in Hollywood, Laila had practically collected every award imaginable. Even the Oscars—every filmmaker's dream—had started to feel like her personal stage.
Youngest-ever winner for Best Director. First woman in film history to win Best Director. Most decorated individual across major categories. Nearly every record she could break, she had broken.
And it wasn't just Best Director—she'd also taken home awards for Screenplay and Editing. These two were just as weighty as directing. While most audiences idolized directors, real filmmakers knew just how vital screenwriting and editing were to a movie's success.
"And the Oscar for Best Film Editing goes to… Laila Moran, The Dark Knight!"
While Nolan had been musing about Laila's many achievements, the award had already been announced.
Since Laila couldn't attend in person, it was naturally Roy who took the stage to accept the award for her—striding up confidently in just a few steps.
"Thank you, thank you all for honoring Laila with this award," he began. "She couldn't be here today due to health reasons, so I'm here on her behalf to express her deepest gratitude. She's always said that 'editing is one of the most important parts of filmmaking.' In her mind, it's no less crucial than directing. It's just that editing hides in the shadows, and the audience rarely sees the work behind it. Most people don't know—whenever she steps into the editing suite, the whole building goes on high alert…"
He shared two amusing behind-the-scenes anecdotes that had the audience—and viewers at home—laughing uncontrollably.
Many people, because of Laila's identity, status, and incredible achievements, had always thought of her as cold, untouchable, the embodiment of a powerful, aloof CEO type. But through Roy's words, she came across as a little goofy and lovable. Whether that was just the filter of love through Roy's eyes didn't matter—people couldn't help but like her even more.
The Dark Knight started strong, but the following categories brought a string of losses.
Best Cinematography and Best Sound Mixing went to The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. Best Art Direction, Visual Effects, and Makeup went to Slumdog Millionaire.
One snub after another left viewers fuming at their TVs.
"How could they not give it to The Dark Knight? Come on—Visual Effects? Art Direction? Who dares say their film was better than our beloved Batman?"
"Exactly! How could such an amazing film lose to that? Just because it's a commercial movie? Because it's a superhero story? This is ridiculous!"
"The Oscar judges seriously need to update their thinking. What's wrong with commercial films? If they're brilliantly made, does it matter if they're commercial or artistic?"
"Poor Laila—not only couldn't attend, but now she has to watch awards that should've been hers go to someone else."
Online, the voices supporting Laila and The Dark Knight flooded every platform. Watching from home, even Janet was furious.
"If you ask me, they should just cancel the Oscars! What's the point of an award that can't even be fair?"
Laila, on the other hand, remained calm. "Honestly, this was predictable. I've been in the spotlight too much these past couple of years. There's no way they'd let me sweep the awards again—especially when there are a couple of decent contenders this year, and mine is a superhero film. Overlooking me to reward others? It's completely within expectations."
The Oscars weren't created for her. If every year she submitted a film and swept the awards, who would still care about them? If she were a judge, she'd probably do the same.
"But that doesn't make it right! You earned those awards—how can they just hand them to someone else?" Janet didn't care about all those complicated reasons. All she saw was her daughter pouring her heart into something and not getting the recognition she deserved. That made her furious.
Laila smiled and patted her mom's hand. "There's always next time. I'm still young, aren't I?"
Very few people in history had won more than two Oscars, but look at her—while not in the same category, she'd already won several. If she wanted to, she could remake every award-winning film she remembered from her past life.
But she didn't want to.
What she wanted now was to create her films. She had built up enough experience. And she believed that even without trying to predict audience favorites, she could still strike the right chord. As long as she understood what people liked, how could she not give them exactly the kind of film they wanted?
So when it came to what the Oscars liked—she no longer cared as much as she once had. Maybe it was because she'd already fulfilled her dream across two lifetimes. The moment she held that golden statue representing the highest honor in directing, it felt like a heavy weight had been lifted from her shoulders.
Of course, that didn't mean her passion for filmmaking had waned.
On the contrary—her era had only just begun.