Lately, Leonardo had been afraid to show his face in public. Once, he even forgot to wear a mask when he went out and had to throw a coat over his head to avoid being recognized.
Otherwise, the paparazzi would seize the opportunity—and those cameras would be right up in his face.
"Leonardo, did you know that when the air conditioner is running, its refrigerant releases harmful substances like Freon, which damage the ozone layer and accelerate global warming?"
"The one in my house is an eco-friendly air conditioner."
"Eco-friendly air conditioners still use electricity, don't they? Did you know that the increased energy consumption leads to the burning of more fossil fuels, which releases greenhouse gases like carbon dioxide and worsens climate change?"
"...What the Fu-?"
"Leonardo, if you're really an environmentalist, you should stop using electrical appliances to save power. Stop using flush toilets or taking showers to save water. You shouldn't even use condoms—plastic is one of the most polluting substances on Earth—"
"...Huh?!"
"Leonardo, we found burnt charcoal in your trash. That means you were barbecuing at home. Do you know how many trees are cut down every year because of barbecues?"
"WHAT THE FUCK!!!"
Leonardo couldn't take it anymore. Were these reporters insane?
[GodOfReader: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!]
So he hopped on a plane with his girlfriend, Bar Refaeli, and flew to South Africa to lie low with Martin for a while.
"Man, those guys are just despicable," Leonardo ranted, pacing in front of Martin. "If it weren't illegal, I'd sue every last one of those bastards who photograph my house and dig through my trash."
But that was all he could do—vent.
Because in most U.S. states, as long as it's deemed to serve the public interest, the media has the right to disclose and report both the current and past lives of public figures. They don't even need authorization to use names or photographs.
So technically and legally, paparazzi can expose the private lives of celebrities. That's just how Hollywood works. It's why the paparazzi industry keeps growing.
What's more absurd is that publications are allowed to use the names and images of public officials, political candidates, and celebrities like writers, actors, or musicians, as long as the content is tied to legitimate matters of public concern. Even if it exposes parts of their private lives, no permission is needed if it's connected—even loosely—to their public role.
U.S. courts have consistently upheld this. If the facts are related in any way to a public figure's role, consent is unnecessary. In essence, public figures and officials basically have no right to privacy.
That's why writing a presidential biography or making a biopic about Rockefeller doesn't require the subject's consent. As long as it's not a gross fabrication, the book can be published and the movie can hit theaters.
Martin chuckled and patted Leonardo's shoulder. "Man, stop complaining. Celebrities make a ton of money, get tons of attention, and wield massive influence. The biggest price you pay is your privacy. But think about it—if one day no one cared about your private life anymore, that'd mean you're not relevant anymore."
"But this time, you really stepped on a landmine," Martin added. "Some of the White House environmentalist stunts lately have gone overboard. They're stepping on the toes of their corporate sponsors, so there's going to be a crackdown. Your movie, your rep—they're just being used as an example to reestablish authority."
Martin sounded sympathetic.
"Aw, Hell Nah! Are you serious?!" Leonardo groaned. "Damn it, I had no idea."
He was annoyed. If he'd known his film release would get delayed, he wouldn't have bothered. He wasn't even making any money out of it. His eco-friendly persona was something he'd built a decade ago. But it was just a persona—of course he still ate meat, drove his car, blasted the AC. He wasn't about to sacrifice his quality of life for a public image. That meant there were plenty of opportunities for people to catch him slipping.
Normally, no one cared. Everyone in the industry knew public personas were just characters. But the timing was bad this time.
He could only chalk it up to bad luck.
"Man, you should do what I did—buy a farm in Australia or New Zealand. You can hide out there in peace whenever you need to. Or better yet, buy your own island. You can afford it."
"I've actually been thinking about that," Leonardo admitted. "But I hate owning property. It's a pain to manage and the property taxes are insane every year. Oh, did you hear about Cage? The IRS says he owes $6.3 million in property taxes and might go bankrupt."
Leonardo hated being the subject of gossip—but he relished gossiping about others.
"Yeah, I've known that for a while," Martin said. "He's drowning in debt. Look at all the trash films he did last year: The Sorcerer's Apprentice, Drive Angry, Season of the Witch, Trespass... He's just taking whatever roles he can to get paid."
"How pitiful," Leonardo said with a smug grin.
Comparing his situation with Cage's misfortunes made him feel instantly better.
The next day, with nothing better to do, Leonardo brought his girlfriend and Martin to the District 9 set.
"Holy shit, is that the alien from your movie?! Damn, that thing is ugly as hell!"
He was stunned when he saw the creature in full makeup.
The aliens had humanoid frames—thin, bony limbs, insect-like shell layers covering their bodies instead of skin, all in varied textures and colors.
It was like God had peeled off shrimp shells and bug carapaces and just slapped them onto a person.
Their heads were the most alien part.
Eyes like insect compound eyes. Long, thin antennae sprouted from the tops of their heads. Their necks were ringed with grasshopper-like armor. On either side of their noses were shrimp-like feelers. And the mouth—if it could be called that—looked more like mandibles, a grotesque mix between a cricket and a locust.
It was absolutely revolting.
Leonardo declared that he had never seen such an ugly alien in his life.
"I agree with you!" came a voice.
Robert Downey Jr., half-covered in alien prosthetics, walked over, waving a mechanical claw.
Leonardo jumped, then squinted and burst out laughing as he recognized him.
They'd met at one of Martin's parties and had gotten along pretty well.
"Hahahaha! Man, you look ridiculous! Wait—let me take a picture."
Click!
The phone flashed. Moment captured.
Robert Downey Jr. lunged toward him. "Asshole! Delete that right now or I'll eat you!"