Anson could have continued to press his advantage, seizing the opportunity to push his opinions and break down the two screenwriters' defenses in one fell swoop.
However, he didn't.
Not only did he refrain, but Anson also deliberately hit the pause button, leaving space for breathing and reflection, allowing the two screenwriters to collect their thoughts.
He even politely thanked the waiter when receiving his soda. When the waiter cautiously asked, "Are you Anson?" and received a confirmation, Anson went as far as signing the waiter's apron.
The atmosphere was quiet, friendly, with a lighthearted cheerfulness floating in the air.
Because fundamentally, Anson's goal wasn't to overpower the screenwriters, take control of the project, and become the all-powerful producer; it was to find a suitable way to collaborate with the two writer-directors, working together to complete the film.
Anson had no intention of completely taking over the crew—he didn't see the necessity.
Strategy and tactics, in the end, weren't about power but about the work itself.
So, under Anson's control, the conversation paused.
However, McKee and Eric still didn't speak.
Only now did McKee realize that they weren't just wrong; they were terribly mistaken.
They had seen Anson as a mere financier, someone eager to become a producer but lacking artistic insight, an easily manipulated puppet, a stepping stone to realize their dream project, a lucky guy who made it on his looks but had nothing in his head—a mere object, a check, a label, certainly not an actor, let alone a person with a complete personality and soul.
But now, it seemed that they were the real clowns.
Over the years, they had prided themselves on their perfect script, refusing any criticism—let alone changes—and even the slightest doubt could trigger an explosive reaction, which had led to many difficulties in their negotiations.
They complained, protested, and blamed their unrecognized talent on others, believing that people just didn't understand their creativity and hard work. They were convinced they were the next James Cameron or Ridley Scott, only unappreciated.
But now, Anson was willing to openly self-reflect—
Is he right for the role?
Maybe, maybe not. The root of the matter lay in their script's focus on the concept of the "butterfly effect," yet like many sci-fi films, it had a fatal flaw: it focused on the setting while neglecting the people within it. The flesh and soul of the characters are what ground sci-fi films in reality.
Of course, it's not that McKee and Eric hadn't considered this.
They had, and they had made adjustments, constantly adding details to the characters. But being so deeply involved, they repeatedly got sucked back into the sci-fi settings, obsessively fixing the plot holes, and unintentionally took the characters' motivations and settings for granted.
Now, faced with Anson's honesty, sincerity, and directness, their defense and rebuttals stuck in their throats. Looking at their reflections in Anson's deep blue eyes, they couldn't help but start re-examining themselves:
They thought the script was perfect. They believed no one was better suited to direct. But what if they were wrong?
Then.
Anson looked back at the two screenwriters, confirming they had nothing to say before continuing.
"Actually, there's one interpretation."
"Obsession."
"Maybe, at first, Evan simply thought that if he could change the past, he could rewrite the history between him and Keller. Slowly, this morphed into an obsession, a fixation, as if this was the only path to happiness."
"When this obsession couldn't be realized, the futility, the deep sense of loss, and the despair of hopelessness made him feel small and helpless in the face of fate."
Anson cautiously put forth his thoughts.
Anson understood McKee and Eric's insistence. In their position, anyone would find it hard to accept someone criticizing seven years of hard work.
But the key point was, Anson believed that as an actor, his chemistry with the character was also a crucial part of the film and couldn't be ignored.
So, Anson didn't rush but carefully navigated the conversation, subtly taking control before the screenwriters even noticed.
Sure enough, McKee got swept up in Anson's rhythm.
McKee grasped at a lifeline in Anson's words, straightening his back and nodding without hesitation, "Yes, that's it."
At least, this could prove that they had considered this point.
But then Anson paused, a slight smile curving his lips, "But if it's an obsession, the script needs to plant a seed, allowing this origin, this motivation, to take root and grow with the story. Otherwise, the so-called obsession is just a one-sided interpretation, a castle in the air."
Eric showed a thoughtful expression, "What do you mean?"
Instead of rushing to answer, Anson responded, "You're the screenwriters. The answer should be in your hearts. You know the script better than I do."
Subtly, Anson handed the initiative back to them.
After a brief moment of thought, Eric responded, "You mean that at the beginning of the story, we should show Evan's lingering thoughts of Keller?"
"For example, even while dating his girlfriend, he still thinks of Keller. Or, his computer still has the love letters he wrote to Keller?"
"For example, he still keeps Keller's mementos. Or maybe he found Keller's phone number and tried calling several times but always gave up?"
As expected of a screenwriter, after seven years of working on this project, the inspiration came easily, with one setting after another flowing effortlessly.
Unexpectedly, Anson shook his head, "No, no, no, that would be too straightforward and shallow. It would make Evan look like a jerk."
"Such a setup makes it seem like a case of 'first love is sacred.' If he's in a relationship but can't let go of the past, the whole story's crux becomes solely about love, which seems very foolish and shallow."
"The real brilliance lies in the fact that the past regrets and losses create a domino effect in life, leading to the inability to embrace happiness."
"When he tries to trace back, reviewing his life through the psychological cracks, he realizes that those losses are deeply ingrained in him, formed by family, love, and childhood experiences, leading to certain deficiencies."
"For example, the loss of the ability to love, the loss of the ability to believe in happiness."
In this way, it goes beyond the superficial "first love" trope, elevating the entire story. It's not just about love but a broader sense of missing happiness.
Most importantly, it perfectly aligns with the script McKee and Eric had created—
From the start, Evan was searching, seeking the missing pieces of himself through a psychologist.
Sure enough, as soon as Anson spoke, a switch flipped in the screenwriters' minds, and their brains finally started working again. This approach was something they could accept.
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