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Chapter 1503: Fired Up 

In his past life, Children of Men was led by Clive Owen—a guy with real personal charm, but not exactly a box-office magnet.  

Blaming it all on the actor, though? That’s not fair.  

For one, the film’s market positioning was a mess. Universal Pictures never had a clear vision from the jump, and that muddled everything down the line.  

For another, the camera didn’t quite capture the character’s spark.  

Sure, Alfonso and Emmanuel nailed the environment, the movement, the visuals—teaming up to craft something stunning. But it was missing a anchor—a hook to pull audiences in, make them connect and feel it. That’s why it ended up a critical darling that didn’t sell tickets.  

Of course, this is all hindsight, armchair quarterback stuff.  

Anson’s piecing this together from his past-life memory and the results, but he can’t be 100% sure he’s right.  

And even if he is, there’s no guarantee they’ll pull it off—  

Because Theo, the main character, is tricky to pin down.  

In the script, he’s got no big emotional outbursts. The performance has to stay subtle, underplayed. And like they just talked about, they’re not planning to hand him spotlight moments or turn him into some savior figure. That means every interaction between actor and camera has to be spot-on to build his charm.  

Just thinking about it, you can feel how tough that’ll be.  

But…  

That’s where the fun lies—in the challenge. The unknown’s what makes it exciting.  

As he talked, Anson’s enthusiasm kicked in, bubbling up uncontrollably. The two guys in the apartment caught the vibe too.  

Emmanuel’s jaw dropped, and he turned to Alfonso, stunned.  

Alfonso, totally missing his friend’s shock, just pointed at Anson with a grin. “He’s full of surprises, huh?”  

Emmanuel: …Speechless.  

He swung his gaze back to Anson, mulling it over. “Okay, but how do you do it?”  

“How do you show off your charm?”  

Anson’s eyes widened, and he threw up his hands like a guy passing the buck. “That’s your job, isn’t it? Catching the actor’s vibe and magic through the lens?”  

Emmanuel couldn’t argue with that. A laugh slipped out, and the tension in the room melted away.  

Anson piled on quick. “Or are you saying it’s too hard—impossible, even? We could always call up Janusz Kamiński instead.”  

Emmanuel sized Anson up, trying to figure out if he was serious or joking. A grin tugged at his lips. “What, trying to goad me into it?”  

Caught red-handed, Anson didn’t even flinch—just spread his hands wider. “Gotta pull out some tricks, right? Otherwise, you’d barely give me the time of day.”  

Emmanuel gaped. “No… I didn’t… I wasn’t…”  

Seeing Emmanuel flustered was a rare sight. Alfonso’s eyes darted around, panicked, no clue what to do.  

Emmanuel steadied himself. “Relax, I’m a pro. I’ll work with anyone.”  

Alfonso blinked at him, baffled. “But you didn’t deny it either?”  

Emmanuel’s cover got blown, and Anson clapped his hands, cracking up. Emmanuel shook his head, exasperated, and patted Alfonso’s shoulder. His buddy was just too honest for his own good.  

But here’s the thing—Emmanuel caught something in Anson’s laugh. No fake politeness, no forced charm. It was real—or the guy was one hell of an actor.  

Either way, it threw him.  

Emmanuel didn’t linger on it, steering back to business. “So you’re planning to kick things off with a long take to show off your personal flair?”  

Anson nodded. “It’s a classic genre movie move. We need to establish Theo’s headspace right away. That unbroken shot’s there to grab the audience, pump the adrenaline—especially since it starts with a literal explosion. It’s pure Mission: Impossible vibes.”  

Emmanuel chewed on that for a sec. “What’s the camera path you’re picturing?”  

He didn’t even notice he was getting sucked in—hooked and eager to dig deeper.  

Alfonso, ever the straight shooter, piped up. “Emmanuel, you’re in?”  

Emmanuel’s face froze mid-expression. He glanced at Anson. “Can you even call the shots? I’m pricey, you know. Very pricey.”  

Sharp as a tack—Emmanuel had clocked it from Anson showing up at Alfonso’s door. He wasn’t just the actor; he was producing too.  

Anson smirked. “No friend discount, even for Alfonso?”  

Emmanuel fired back. “Talking discounts already? I thought you were the big star here.”  

Anson didn’t bite. “You wouldn’t even look at me five minutes ago. Now that it’s deal time, I’m a ‘big star’? That’s not how this works.”  

Emmanuel didn’t back down either. “If you’re pinching pennies for the crew, they should shear you first, not some poor, defenseless little cinematographer like me.”  

“Ha!” Anson laughed outright. “Little cinematographer? Humble much? The guy Hollywood’s begging to work with is a small fry? If you’re small, none of us belong here. Without Alfonso, we wouldn’t even get a shot at this convo, right?”  

Emmanuel stared at Anson, helpless, then… rolled his eyes.  

Anson’s grin just got brighter. “How about we talk lenses first?”  

Emmanuel didn’t say a word, but Alfonso was already nodding like a bobblehead. “Emmanuel, you’ve gotta see the shot path we sketched out. I think it’s doable, but pulling it off needs rehearsal—total control to make the whole scene click.”  

Blah blah blah—Alfonso was buzzing, and Emmanuel didn’t push back. His focus shifted, and soon all three of them were deep in it, hashing things out.  

They got so wrapped up in work they lost track of time. Lunch? No memory of what they even ate. By the time Anson and Emmanuel left Alfonso’s place, it was 4 p.m.  

The sun had dipped westward, spilling orange light across the ground.  

Anson and Emmanuel walked a bit, waiting until Alfonso headed back inside. That’s when Emmanuel dropped the polite chit-chat mask.  

“You serious?” He turned to Anson. “Not about funding the movie—I mean doing it Alfonso’s way, with his vision.”  

“I know how you so-called superstars work. Selfish to the core. All talk about teamwork, but when it comes down to it, it’s a different story.”  

“You could pick any project in Hollywood right now. So why Alfonso? Why Children of Men? What’s your angle here?”  

No holding back—straight to the point.  

Anson didn’t flinch. He just smiled. “Wow, you’ve been bottling that up for a while, huh?”  

A little jab, tossed out light as a feather.  

But Emmanuel wasn’t in the mood for games. “I’m waiting for an answer. Hit back, explain, mock me—whatever. Give me something. I’m waiting.”  

Chapter 1504: A Small Dream 

“I’m still waiting.” 

Emmanuel stood firm, his clear gaze locked on Anson, refusing to budge until he got an answer. 

Anson, though, was unfazed—calm and collected as ever. 

“What’s Alfonso got that I’d scheme for?” 

One line, and Emmanuel’s mouth snapped shut. But his eyes stayed fixed on Anson, unrelenting. 

“Like you said, I can get anything I want. But Alfonso?” 

“If I was chasing box office gold, trust me, Alfonso wouldn’t be anywhere near the top of my director list.” 

“If I needed a puppet I could control, Hollywood’s full of journeyman directors who’d ditch their pride and churn out decent work on command.” 

“If I was gunning for an Oscar, do you really think Children of Men fits the Academy’s mold?” 

“So, what do you think I’m after? What do I even need to be after?” 

Slow and steady, no rush. 

Anson wasn’t aggressive or snarky—just laying out facts, talking to Emmanuel as an equal. 

Emmanuel narrowed his eyes, sizing Anson up. “Exactly. You’re right. So why this project? Why Alfonso?” 

“Everyone’s got an angle. Everyone. Especially in Hollywood.” 

Anson chuckled softly. “If I said I just like the project, would you buy it?” 

Emmanuel blinked. 

Anson’s honesty was so disarming, so genuine, that Emmanuel almost wanted to believe him. 

But then Anson shrugged. “It’s true, but only half the truth. The other half? It’s for Forest Films.” 

“Oh, Forest Films—my company.” 

“Emmanuel, you’ve been around Hollywood long enough. You know how it works. There’s always gotta be a goal.” 

“Like you said, everyone’s after something. Profit. Prestige. Over time, movies get slapped with crude labels—commercial or arthouse.” 

“The ones that make money are commercial. The ones with self-expression are arthouse.” 

“Woody Allen once said something like this: ‘The two biggest misconceptions about me are that people think I’m an intellectual just because I wear glasses, and they assume I’m an artist because my movies always lose money.’” 

“So, are Woody Allen’s films commercial or arthouse?” 

Neither. 

By Hollywood’s yardstick, Woody Allen’s work isn’t quite arthouse enough or commercial enough—it’s tough to pin a label on. 

“What about Fight Club? Blade Runner? 2001: A Space Odyssey? The 400 Blows? Rear Window?” 

“When Hollywood crudely splits movies into ‘commercial’ and ‘art,’ it strips away their vibrant, messy charm. That’s my goal—I want directors, writers, producers to break those boxes, unleash their imagination and creativity, and give movies endless possibilities.” 

“Of course, it’s a company. It’s gotta turn a profit to keep going—I won’t pretend otherwise.” 

“The difference is, profit’s not the top priority. It’s about making films that are fun, full of potential.” 

Emmanuel was floored. 

He knew Anson didn’t play by the rules, but facing him head-on? That constant, prickling challenge to everything he thought he knew sent a shiver down his spine. 

“You know that’s just a pipe dream,” Emmanuel said. 

Anson nodded. “Sure. Maybe it’ll crash and burn—ideals lose to reality all the time. I wouldn’t be the first. But I still wanna try.” 

Emmanuel: … “So that’s why you did The Butterfly Effect and Eternal Sunshine?” 

Anson tilted his head. “Not entirely. But I’ve been experimenting, yeah.” 

Emmanuel’s gaze settled back on him. “Why bother explaining all this to me? You didn’t have to. Just flash a check, and Alfonso wouldn’t say no.” 

Anson spread his hands, feigning regret. “I thought we were friends by now.” 

Emmanuel deadpanned, “Heh.” A dry, half-hearted smirk. 

That look cracked Anson up. “I’m trying to win you over. If you haven’t noticed, I clearly haven’t worked hard enough today.” 

Emmanuel let slip a rare, helpless smile. 

Anson pressed on. “You’re a damn good cinematographer. You’ve got clout among the Mexican film crew. You’ve got a decade of solid connections in Hollywood. If you buy into Forest Films’ vision, maybe we could team up down the line—or spark some other opportunities.” 

“Profit, Emmanuel. Profit.” 

Emmanuel shook his head lightly. “I figured you’d dress it up with friendship or dreams.” 

Anson grinned. “I tried pretty hard to pretty it up. But some truths don’t need sugarcoating. As for Children of Men, I genuinely dig this project. I think we can make something killer—show those smug Warner Brothers suits what they missed out on.” 

Emmanuel had to admit, Anson was persuasive. Really persuasive. 

Forget Alfonso—even he felt his blood pumping. Those dreams, that passion, those restless urges buried deep in his soul, dulled by years in Hollywood—they were stirring again. 

He, too, wanted to ditch the commercial-arthouse labels and shoot what truly fired him up. He wanted movies to feel like movies again. 

But him? A lone cinematographer? He had zero pull in Hollywood. 

Maybe Anson was different? 

Emmanuel held back, still skeptical. “That’s Warner Brothers we’re talking about. You sure you can sway them?” 

Anson shrugged casually. “When you see it as one big machine, it’s a beast—untouchable. But inside that monster, it’s still people running the show. At the end of the day, you’re dealing with humans. They’ve got all the cash in the world, but they can’t escape human thinking.” 

“It’s not that complicated.” 

Emmanuel wasn’t sold. “You sure?” 

Anson smirked. “Oh, I’ve already convinced them. Just had to pay a price.” 

Emmanuel nodded. “Typical. That’s Hollywood—no free lunches. But if it’s you, you’ve got the clout to sit down with Warner Brothers right now.” 

Anson clutched his chest. “Oh, finally—a compliment! I’m a little touched.” 

Emmanuel: “…” 

Anson grinned wider. “So, does that mean you’re in for Children of Men?” 

Emmanuel dodged. “I’ll think it over.” 

Anson laughed. “Fair enough. Take your time. Alfonso and I will keep grinding.” 

Emmanuel shot back, “I said I’d think about it. No need to pressure me.” 

Afternoon sunlight spilled over them as Anson and Emmanuel strolled down the street, chatting away, relaxed and easy. The bustling LA crowd didn’t even glance their way— 

No one could’ve pictured this duo just hanging out like that. 

In the soil of Forest Films, Anson planted another seed, quietly waiting for it to sprout, hoping it’d grow into a towering tree, joining the others to form a dense, thriving forest. 

Chapter 1505: Strike First 

It’s midsummer—restless and loud. The air keeps surging with heat, and rolling waves of warmth spread everywhere. 

It’s like this every year, and this summer’s no exception. If anything, it’s even more intense. Spider-Man 2 is about to hit theaters, and rumors about Anson continuing to play Peter Parker are buzzing like crazy. The hype’s off the charts, no effort required. 

After all, last summer already gave us a taste of the drama. Anson got injured on set and nearly got dumped by Sony Columbia, almost losing his role as Peter Parker. Fans went wild, staging protests that made some serious noise. 

Now, Spider-Man 2 has finally overcome all obstacles and is ready to drop. The renewal question staring everyone in the face can’t be ignored anymore—it’s time to deal with it head-on. 

But it’s not that simple. 

Since last summer, Anson’s stock in Hollywood has skyrocketed. The Butterfly Effect, Elephant, and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind—three back-to-back hits—have taken the market by storm, cementing him as Hollywood’s top dog right now. Add to that the massive success of his album Midsummer Midnight and a dazzling Grammy Awards night, and Anson’s influence has seeped into every corner of the industry. 

Things aren’t what they used to be! 

These days, Anson’s got enough clout to throw his weight around with Sony Columbia. 

But Sony Columbia holds the Spider-Man rights and the power to make or break the movie. Even if they ditch Anson, they’ve got plenty of other options. 

So, what’s brewing here is a tug-of-war, a game of chess, a straight-up showdown. 

On the surface, everything looks calm and cheerful, all sunshine and good vibes. But underneath, a wild undercurrent is quietly spreading through Hollywood. 

First, Anson signs a jaw-dropping deal with Warner Records that shakes up the entire music industry, drawing every eye in Hollywood his way. 

Then, right after, he’s spotted heading to Warner Bros., staying there for over seven hours before grabbing dinner with Jeff Robinov. 

Pure coincidence? Or is something bigger being cooked up behind the scenes? 

Is Anson striking first, putting pressure on Sony Columbia to break the stalemate? Or has Sony Columbia already made their move in the shadows, forcing Anson to grab attention and hit back? 

Speculation’s flying everywhere. 

Here’s the wild part—or maybe the creepy part: both Sony Columbia and Warner Bros. are staying dead silent. No official statements, no responses. Even when reporters call to dig for details, they dodge and weave, refusing to give straight answers, acting all mysterious and tight-lipped. 

The quieter they are, the louder the rumors get. 

Some say Sony Columbia’s ready to lock Anson in with a massive paycheck—maybe even smashing the $20 million club, shaking up Hollywood’s whole pay structure. 

Others say Warner Bros. is trying to swoop in and snag Anson for Batman, sparing no expense—big salary, hefty box office bonuses, the works. 

Then there’s talk that Anson’s greed got the better of him, demanding an insane fee that tanked talks with Sony Columbia. His trip to Warner Bros.? Just a power play to rattle Sony and get what he wants. Warner’s a pawn, they say—Peter Parker’s still his true love. Anson knows how much that role means to him. 

Some whisper that Sony Columbia decided ages ago not to renew with Anson. Last summer’s mess still stings—they can’t stomach being strong-armed by an actor and won’t let it happen again. 

And then there’s the theory that Warner Bros. is pulling strings behind the scenes, stirring the pot to lure Anson away from Sony Columbia and into the Batman cape. 

Blah blah blah—the rumors are endless. No doubt, this is the hottest topic in Hollywood this summer. Especially since everyone involved is keeping their mouths shut, letting the gossip spiral out of control while different players fan the flames behind the scenes. It’s a total circus. 

One rumor stands out: Creative Artists Agency (CAA) is reportedly cozying up to Sony Columbia. 

They’re trying to convince Sony that Anson’s becoming a problem. Sure, his star power can pack theaters, but his greed might send production costs through the roof—maybe even to the point where Sony ends up working for him. 

Plus, Anson’s restless. He’s started Forest Films, he’s flirting with Warner Bros., and he’s making waves in the music world. His ambition and appetite are growing, and that could spell trouble down the line. 

Since Sony Columbia owns the Spider-Man rights, they could cut Anson loose before he gets too big to handle, reboot the series with a fresh face, and start over. 

CAA’s offering to back them up—supplying a lineup of young talent for Sony to pick from, plus a trilogy deal locked in from the start. That way, they avoid the headaches that come when a franchise blows up and the star gets too much leverage. One clean fix, done. 

As the industry heavyweight, CAA’s moves turn heads. They’ve got serious sway—hard to say no to. 

True or false, real or fake—it’s all a blur. 

Outsiders are just peering through the fog, unable to see the truth. Right now, information is gold. Whoever’s got the real scoop has the upper hand in this game. 

Edgar Cook stares at Harry Percy in front of him, silent for a long stretch. The tension climbs without a word, thick enough to feel. 

Harry shifts in his seat. “You don’t have to look at me like you’re about to eat me alive.” 

Edgar finally speaks. “How legit is this info?” 

Harry shrugs. “Whether you trust me is up to you. I just deliver the goods. What you make of it—that’s your job.” 

“Don’t give me that look. All I’ll say is, I don’t want to owe Anson any favors.” 

If he had his way, Harry wouldn’t even deal with Anson—that devil. 

But he knows TMZ—and he personally—owes Anson more than a couple favors. Right now, all he wants is to clear that debt fast. Sure, his day-to-day life is cutting deals with devils, but— 

Not all devils are the same. 

Harry never could’ve guessed that tailing an actress for a late-night date would land him a scoop this big. 

Breaking it outright? Limited payoff. To max out its value, it’s got to go to the right hands. And then a name popped into Harry’s head. 

Perfect—pay off a favor while he’s at it. 

He doesn’t care if Anson needs it or not. As far as he’s concerned, the debt’s settled. 

The photo? Midnight, 12 a.m. William Morris Agency CEO Brian Sworston meeting Sony Columbia CEO Michael Lynton. 

Normally, that’s nothing special—no big deal. 

But if Harry’s memory’s right, Brian Sworston used to be tight with Amy Pascal. Part of why Anson even got a shot at Spider-Man was Amy pushing William Morris to hustle, sending over more actor profiles for the picking. 

Now, Brian’s meeting with Amy’s rival, Michael? 

And this is happening while Sony Columbia’s renewal talks with Anson are stuck in limbo? 

(End of Chapter)