"...I don't think harboring such ambition is a healthy thing."
Anson's face was open and sincere as he met Jeff's gaze with honesty and directness.
Jeff was momentarily taken aback by Anson's demeanor, then a slight smile crept up the corners of his mouth. He couldn't help but lightly clap his hands, giving Anson a round of applause—
Admiration.
The last time Jeff and Anson met was at the Emmy Awards after-party. Jeff had already been quite impressed with Anson back then, so much so that he recommended Anson to Steven Spielberg, recognizing his talent.
Today, Jeff's impression was renewed, and Anson standing before him was truly a pleasant surprise.
However, admiration aside, Jeff, being a professional, wasn't easily swayed. For the first time, he focused his attention on the project at hand.
"So, what you're saying is that you don't have ambition and want this project to be comprehensive. But you're confident that this project will be successful."
"Reputation? Box office? Awards?"
"Which one are you aiming for?"
Anson didn't hesitate. "Box office."
To be honest, it should be reputation. After all, in his previous life, The Butterfly Effect had a mediocre box office performance and only turned around thanks to DVD rentals and sales.
But Anson wasn't stupid; he knew when to be honest and when to sell a dream. He had a sense of propriety.
And that's not all; Anson continued.
"After all, the only thing I can pursue, and should pursue right now, is the box office."
Was this a self-deprecating jab at being a "pretty face"?
Jeff couldn't help but smile.
Anson went on.
"A science fiction film's depth and quality often come from its reflections—on the future, on elements beyond the real world, on ethics and morals. These reflections often mean being ahead of their time, so if a sci-fi film pursues depth, it might deviate from mainstream market preferences."
"Films like Aliens, Terminator 2, and E.T. were successful at the box office because they were made as another genre of film."
"Disaster movies. Monster movies. Adventure movies."
"And this project is a romance movie."
"Through the lens of love and family, it explores destiny and the value of life."
"It's not perfect, because the protagonist is a college student in his early twenties. We're still impulsive, still reckless, still harboring unrealistic dreams, so we make mistakes and might mess everything up."
"But it's precisely because of this that it has market potential."
Anson's measured and articulate speech fully captured Jeff's attention, and the office subtly fell into Anson's rhythm.
Jeff slightly raised his chin. "Alright, I admit it, I'm a bit curious."
However, Jeff didn't rush to read the script. His gaze remained on Anson.
"Tell me, what's the story about?"
Finally!
After all the circling around, Anson finally got the opportunity to discuss the script.
To his slight surprise, Anson didn't launch into an enthusiastic, detailed explanation.
"The male protagonist accidentally discovers he can go back in time. To achieve the perfect life he imagines, he goes back again and again, only to find things seem to be getting worse."
"You could imagine it as Groundhog Day meets Back to the Future, but this is a tragedy, with a sad tone set from the beginning."
And then... that was it.
Jeff had to admit, Anson knew exactly what he was doing.
Often, when writers or directors present their projects, they like to embellish, getting more excited and detailed as they go.
But producers don't care about those details. They care about the selling points or hooks, the film's market competition and potential profitability, and the production direction—things like that.
The script?
Not that important, really.
Unless it's by Aaron Sorkin.
If they go on and on about the story's plot and settings, probably less than ten percent of it sticks with the producer.
Of course, there are exceptions, but most of the time, this is how it works. Producers and writers or directors have different perspectives on projects, and naturally, the key information that helps them make decisions differs too.
Now, Anson was approaching it the right way.
Back to the Future and Groundhog Day are both relatively light-hearted films, using a simple setup to connect the plot through the characters' fate and psychological changes, offering some reflection while entertaining.
Moreover, Anson hit the nail on the head: one mention of The Butterfly Effect explained the script's core selling point. Given Anson's earlier references to classic sci-fi films, the movie likely offers some philosophical musings on fate without going too deep.
This kind of sci-fi film often sparks heated discussions among dedicated moviegoers and has the potential to resonate in the box office.
In just a short conversation, as Anson spoke, Jeff's mind was already racing, easily grasping the key points and throwing out a crucial question.
"Director? Cast?"
Anson: It's here.
Although Anson hadn't been part of the previous production meetings and didn't know the details of McGee and Eric's discussions, one thing was certain:
For two writers directing their first film, asking for a $20 million budget without an A-list cast, it was almost impossible for a studio to agree.
This was also one of the reasons Anson had the two writers wait in the parking lot today:
Anson planned to use his own name as a front, to try to get things moving.
So.
Anson spread his hands. "I lack experience and am waiting for professionals to guide me."
Jeff chuckled softly. "Anson, you're not being entirely honest. With your personality, there's no way you'd show up unprepared."
Anson maintained an innocent look. "Jeff, if I were lying, you wouldn't be able to tell; would you believe me?"
Jeff was taken aback—
Oh, right. How could he forget? This "pretty face" was just a disguise; Anson was definitely not as simple as he appeared.
Anson only paused slightly before continuing, "I really don't have many ideas. Honestly, I'm still in the phase of learning and exploring step by step, hoping seasoned veterans can help get things started."
"I'm not sure, but maybe we should control costs, relying more on the script. The director and cast should be chosen based on fit, which is the most important thing."
Jeff slightly raised his chin. "So, you're saying you want to be the core around which the entire project is built? Are you really preparing to make a Groundhog Day?"
Groundhog Day, released in 1993, only had one big star, Bill Murray, with a production cost of about $10 million. It grossed $70 million at the box office and was the twelfth highest-grossing film in North America that year.
Now, it seems that in every way, Anson is preparing to make such a film.
Anson adjusted his sitting position, humbly asking, "Am I qualified to do so?"