At that moment, he appeared in front of Martin and the others.
These were the top six performers from the Bluebell Girls.
Together with the Moulin Rouge and Crazy Horse, the Lido is known as one of the three premier cabaret shows in Paris.
The top stars among them, naturally, were all stunning in both looks and physique.
"The selection criteria for the Bluebell Girls are notoriously strict. Not only must the dancers be beautiful, but they also need to have a uniform height, be between 18 and 24 years old, and possess leg lengths of 112–115 cm measured from navel to heel. Even the space between their breasts must be exactly 13 cm. Later, Crazy Horse and Moulin Rouge adopted the same insane standards, leading to a kind of hyper-competitive evolution in Paris's cabaret scene. It's no exaggeration to say that every Bluebell Girl is one in a million—and these six are the cream of the crop."
Matt Damon was completely mesmerized—his eyes glazed over as if he couldn't wait to take two of them home right then and there.
Leonardo and Martin, on the other hand, were far more composed. After all, they were seasoned veterans.
Leonardo, in particular, was a regular at all three major shows in Paris. He'd even been invited to serve as a guest judge at Crazy Horse.
As for Martin? Say no more. The man wasn't even human.
The two of them just sat there, leisurely sipping their drinks and watching the performance.
Leonardo, however, was low-key annoyed at Martin's nonchalance.
In his memory, Martin had never been to any of the three Parisian shows before. So why was he so... unmoved? When Leonardo saw it for the first time, well—ahem—he was anything but calm. And yet here Martin was, completely unfazed.
To Martin's eyes, this was nothing.
It had none of the seductive allure of succubus dance, none of the grace of elven ballet, and none of the intensity of the Shura war dance...
It was just... mundane.
After the show, naturally, came a night of romance.
The next morning, the entire crew looked utterly drained—they had clearly enjoyed themselves far too much the night before.
Nicholson was feeling left out again. But the moment Leonardo casually mentioned how "divine" the Bluebell Girls were, he exploded.
"F**k, you brought in the Bluebell Girls and didn't even tell me?!"
"I only invited six," Leonardo said calmly. "There were exactly three of us. How would we split one more?"
"Hell, I only needed one! You punks have no respect for your elders!"
Nicholson was practically fuming.
Martin chuckled. "Exactly because we respect you, old man, we didn't bring you."
Leonardo: "That's right!"
Matt Damon: "Absolutely!"
"You bastards," Nicholson growled, shaking a fist. "Next time I'm organizing something—and you'd better believe you'll regret it."
Later, at a press conference in Las Vegas—
A reporter asked Martin, "Hello, Martin! I heard that during filming, you, Leonardo, Matt Damon, and Nicholson formed a little four-man clique. Is that true?"
Martin spread his hands in mock surprise. "That's not a great question, is it? Sounds like you're separating the four of us from the rest of the crew. Hey—we're all one big family!"
Just then, Nicholson grabbed the mic and added, "Yep, the four of us are a tight-knit group. We even named ourselves: The Infernal Boys."
Leonardo glanced sideways at him. "Infernal Boys? More like three boys and one old-timer."
Nicholson was just about to blow his top.
Matt Damon quickly jumped in, pointing at himself. "The old man is clearly me. I've just got a mature look!"
Nicholson instantly switched from angry to delighted, slinging an arm over Matt's shoulder. "Good lad. Not like that damn Leo."
Their banter triggered waves of laughter.
The reporters could tell—these guys were genuinely close.
September 7, 2006
The premiere of The Departed had officially begun.
It wasn't held in New York, or LA, or any other big-name U.S. city.
Instead, it took place at the Ryerson Theatre in Toronto, Canada.
This was the main venue of the Toronto International Film Festival.
Yes—The Departed was making its debut at TIFF.
At this moment, the Ryerson Theatre was packed to the brim.
Hundreds of media reporters and thousands of fans had swarmed both sides of the red carpet.
Martin posters, Leonardo posters, Matt Damon posters, Nicholson posters… Fans held them high like flags.
This time, none of them brought dates. The four men walked the red carpet together.
Even the name Infernal Boys had gone public. To their surprise, the public had embraced it—it had even become a promotional highlight. As they walked the carpet, midway through, the four suddenly stopped.
Martin raised his right hand and made a sweeping arc in the air.
A rhythmic beat dropped.
Then, all four pulled out microphones from inside their suits—and started singing.
What did they sing?
The English version of Little Apple.
Why? Simple. The song's catchy as hell, and apart from Martin, the other three weren't exactly professional singers—so difficult songs were out of the question.
At first, the fans were stunned. Then came the shrieks, followed by everyone pulling out their phones.
Little Apple was truly a brainworm of the future—simple, energetic, and addictive.
At first, the crowd was just swaying.
Then they began clapping.
Then they started singing along.
Even the reporters couldn't resist—what started as a quartet became a full-on chorus of thousands.
What does it feel like to have a crowd of thousands belting out Little Apple together?
Honestly? Like a demon dance party!
The four of them danced and sang, hips swaying.
As the song came to an end, they twisted their way toward the entrance, led by Martin.
Don't ask—his moves were surprisingly enchanting.
At the end of the red carpet, Director Scorsese stood frozen, jaw dropped.
Yesterday, Martin had said he wanted to "go big" and promised it'd help promote the film.
Well… this was big alright. And totally nuts.
As the music faded, the foursome reached the end of the carpet.
Fans on both sides let out piercing screams.
Nicholson had gone full beast mode with the others, but age caught up with him. Now he was holding his waist, panting.
He looked left and right at the crowd and muttered, "Sh*t, why do I have the fewest posters?"
Leonardo teased, "Probably because you're ancient. This old guy's toast."
Martin clapped Nicholson's shoulder. "Doesn't matter. After today—and after this song—you're making a comeback."
Matt Damon, looking at the media frenzy, grinned. "I have a feeling we're tomorrow's front-page headline."
Nicholson laughed, "Let's steal the spotlight more often, boys."
Then the four of them stepped into the media zone for interviews.
"Martin came up with the idea," Leonardo said. "And, of course, he wrote the song."
Nicholson added, "I loved it. Fits my vibe perfectly. I might be 65, but I feel young!"
"Hey! You're clearly 69, turning 70 soon!" someone chimed in.
"You idiot. Shut up!"
"Hahaha!"