"Honestly, things have spiraled out of control this time."
"Initially, this should have been a good thing. Without DreamWorks having to invest any effort, major media outlets have already begun promoting the film on their own."
"But this is Hollywood. There's no such thing as a free lunch, and now it's clear that things are getting out of hand."
"In my view, there's more than one force at play behind the scenes."
"Anyway, you're now the center of attention, and when someone rises to fame, trouble naturally follows. You don't even need conflicts—there are already countless people who dislike you for no reason, just waiting for an opportunity to stir things up."
"As a result, we're facing attacks from all sides, caught in a situation of being praised to death."
The situation was becoming tricky—
Edgar's concerns weren't unfounded.
Back in the day, Leonardo DiCaprio shot to stardom overnight with *Titanic*, and the overwhelming attention was staggering. Every move he made was scrutinized under a microscope—he couldn't even yawn without being bombarded by camera flashes.
Of course, there was praise, adoration, and attention in abundance.
But at the same time, there were sharp criticisms and nitpicking. One moment, they said Leonardo was abandoning relationships, the next they accused him of betraying his fans. It got to the point where he had to escape to remote rainforests, one of the few places on Earth where he wasn't recognized.
In that environment, every movie Leonardo starred in was under intense scrutiny, regardless of the budget or target audience. Every project he touched was criticized.
"To wear the crown, you must bear its weight."
Things were that simple.
Now, Anson was facing a similar test. Although Anson hadn't reached Leonardo's level, since *Spider-Man* hadn't broken *Titanic*'s records and was only the second movie to hit such heights, the spotlight still pushed him into the eye of the storm.
It was a form of destructive praise.
Especially considering the star-studded cast of *Catch Me If You Can*, which guaranteed buzz. From the current hype, if the movie didn't easily hit $300 million at the box office, the media would waste no time in attacking Anson as a failure.
And there was another detail.
This summer, Steven Spielberg and Tom Cruise teamed up for *Minority Report*, a film that had high expectations. Both the director and lead actor were at the pinnacle of Hollywood, and the industry was eager for the film to become a box office sensation.
Tom Cruise was extremely proactive, even showing up at the *Spider-Man* premiere to help with promotions—a rare move.
However, after the film's release, both reviews and ticket sales were disappointing. The high-concept sci-fi movie was deemed too complex, and many viewers complained they couldn't understand it, leading to a lackluster performance at theaters.
In reality, the box office numbers weren't terrible—$132 million in North America and $350 million globally. But with production costs reaching $100 million, along with hefty marketing and distribution expenses, 20th Century Fox took a significant hit.
What made it worse was that the collaboration between Tom Cruise and Steven Spielberg, which many expected to result in something greater than the sum of its parts, failed to deliver. The high expectations only magnified the disappointment.
Rumor had it that Tom Cruise was furious.
*Catch Me If You Can* was Spielberg's follow-up, widely seen as his attempt to redeem himself after *Minority Report*'s unexpected flop.
According to reports from *Variety*, Anson won the lead role in *Catch Me If You Can* over Leonardo DiCaprio, breaking Spielberg's recent trend of working with top-tier actors. This only added to the attention the film was receiving.
If the box office numbers were poor, would the media blame Anson, or speculate that Spielberg was in a creative slump? It was hard to predict.
But one thing was certain—the film was under immense pressure.
On the surface, the media was frantically hyping *Catch Me If You Can*, confidently predicting the film's box office success.
To Edgar, all these voices felt like a buildup to an eventual downfall.
The critical issue was this:
Being praised to death is an open trap.
Even if they knew the media was overhyping the film, they couldn't make the press stop.
Not only couldn't they stop it, but they had to smile and express their sincere gratitude for all the praise.
Edgar was genuinely worried.
Still, it was a good problem to have—*Spider-Man*'s momentum was continuing, pushing Anson toward becoming a top-tier star. Even if the film's box office performance fell short, it wouldn't be the end of the world. But if it succeeded, it would be a major breakthrough.
Worry and anticipation—Edgar was torn between the two emotions as he meticulously planned the upcoming promotional campaign. DreamWorks had its own strategy, but Edgar, as Anson's agent, had his own approach.
But as Edgar droned on, he noticed that Anson seemed distracted.
"Anson."
"Anson!"
Edgar called out, his expression showing a hint of helplessness.
Finally, Anson snapped back to attention, raised a hand to signal he was listening, but said nothing. Instead, he turned to look at the baby-faced young man standing to the side.
The baby-faced man, looking like he was being punished, stood obediently without sitting. But his eyes constantly darted around, curiously observing everything.
"Noah…"
Anson called out.
Noah realized he'd been caught and immediately straightened up, standing at attention, blurting out, "Mr. Wood!"
Anson chuckled. "So, how do you like the decor?"
Noah blinked a few times. "It's really nice."
Before he realized it, Noah had already spoken.
He then quickly tried to apologize, knowing it wasn't appropriate to casually comment on his employer's home. But he was a bit too slow, as Anson interjected.
"What about that painting—what do you think of it?"
Noah froze, then reflexively asked, "Is that an actual Degas?"
Anson's lips curled slightly. "Are you worried I'm hanging a fake?"
Noah's pale face instantly turned red, flustered as he looked at Anson, nearly on the verge of tears. He mumbled incoherently, unable to get any words out.
A hint of amusement flickered in Anson's eyes. "I'll have to check with my father—Mr. Wood. In the meantime, why don't you take a seat and appreciate the decor? My father would be thrilled that someone finally appreciates it."
Without realizing it, Noah had already fallen into Anson's rhythm, his eyes lighting up with interest. "Your father designed this?"
Anson didn't answer, but Noah didn't mind, gazing around in awe. Although he didn't say anything, there was an audible sound of admiration from deep in his throat.
Edgar looked at Anson in surprise—
Impressive, indeed.
No matter how much training he gave the baby-faced Noah, it never seemed to work. But within an hour of being with Anson, the young man was already obeying him without even realizing it.
Unable to help himself, Edgar gave Anson a thumbs up.