1081-1085

*Chapter 1081: Clear Generation Gap*

Unbelievable! Inconceivable!

Kitcher knew that time was passing, and eras were advancing. Nothing lasts forever. Johnny Cash was no longer the legendary figure he once was.

But still—

That was Johnny Cash!

Even if his glory days were gone, how could Anson have never heard of Johnny at all? How ignorant, arrogant, and self-important could that kid be?

Kitcher couldn’t control himself. His anger boiled in his chest.

Kitcher had known Johnny Cash for over thirty years. He had witnessed both the peak and the low points of Johnny's career and had always remained a close friend.

He couldn't accept his idol being insulted like this.

However, deep down, a voice told Kitcher that Mangold was right. He loved Johnny, but he shouldn’t let his emotions blind him.

This thought stung Kitcher.

Even after sitting down in the café, Kitcher refused to talk to Mangold, lost in his own world. Mangold didn’t disturb him, knowing that Kitcher needed time and space to come around.

Kitcher turned to look out of the café window. The bustling scene at Sony Columbia Studios continued, with people coming and going without pause. Lost in his thoughts, Kitcher’s focus slowly drifted.

Then, in the midst of the crowd, one figure stood out effortlessly. Kitcher’s gaze sharpened again.

Dressed in a black tennis shirt, black casual trousers, and black sneakers, with not a hint of color, the figure’s slim, tall frame stood even taller, exuding a composed elegance. The simple lines of the outfit accentuated a dashing air, understated yet commanding attention.

Approaching from afar, step by step—

Anson Wood moved with grace.

Just moments ago, they had seen Anson’s sunny, carefree aura—bold, unruly, and as radiant as a little sun.

Now, after a change of clothes, his vibe had completely shifted. With damp hair and a low-key demeanor, he exuded the essence of Lucifer, making all the surrounding noise fade away.

This was the second time—

The second time Kitcher had felt such an overwhelming presence from Anson’s arrival.

All the turmoil and tension in his mind dissolved into a single, powerful impulse.

Slightly stunned, Kitcher turned to the still-distracted Mangold beside him, “It’s him.”

Mangold blinked in confusion, “Who? Who is it?”

Kitcher didn’t explain, trying his best to suppress his excitement. “We have to seize this chance. He’s the perfect choice.”

Mangold still couldn’t keep up, “Huh?”

Before Mangold could ask more, the café door swung open, the wind chimes jingling, and there stood Anson, all in black, right in front of them.

Anson glanced around and spotted the two Jameses sitting by the window, smiling and waving a greeting.

As he was about to approach, a nearby customer nervously asked if they could take a picture with him. Anson cheerfully agreed, accommodating the request. Another customer called out, “Anson, you’re the best,” to which Anson responded with a smile.

After a brief pause, Anson finally walked over.

“Sorry for the small delay.”

Throughout this, Mangold had been staring at Anson intently. Now he understood Kitcher’s earlier reaction—

*"The Man in Black."*

This movie had skyrocketed Will Smith to fame, and its box office performance was impressive. But the older generation all knew that the title "Man in Black" originally belonged to Johnny Cash.

In his younger years, Johnny Cash had been outraged by the social injustices around him. He believed that justice should prevail and truth should be upheld, so he donned all-black attire to express his stance.

As a result, Johnny earned the nickname "The Man in Black," similar to folk heroes like Robin Hood or Zorro.

And back then, Johnny, who stood at 6'2", was considered tall and handsome, a traditional heartthrob. His all-black look was iconic across the U.S.

Standing before them now, Anson, clad in black, looked equally dashing, as if he’d stepped right out of a painting, effortlessly capturing attention.

No wonder Kitcher had lost his composure.

Even Mangold was left slightly slack-jawed—

Purely from a physical standpoint, Anson and Johnny Cash were entirely different. They didn’t even resemble each other. Johnny had an authentic American working-class charisma, while Anson had the suave elegance of a French gentleman. The two were worlds apart. Mangold hadn’t been confident about Anson’s fit for the role, aside from some vague hope brought on by his performance in *Spider-Man*.

But now, Mangold could feel that intangible yet undeniable star power radiating from Anson.

His heart started racing.

Mangold cleared his throat, “Anson, do you really not know who Johnny Cash is?”

Anson shrugged lightly, “I don’t mean to be rude, but no, I don’t. I just asked the director, and he told me Johnny was a great singer. Clearly, I missed his era.”

Mangold leaned in slightly, “So you’ve never heard of ‘The Man in Black’ either?”

Anson looked puzzled, “Will Smith?”

Mangold: ...

Kitcher: ...

They were speechless, but couldn’t refute it.

The same thing can mean something entirely different to different generations. Maybe this was the generation gap?

Kitcher was torn between optimism and frustration, but this time, he took a deep breath and made up his mind.

“Anson, we’re working on a Johnny Cash biopic. We want to portray his life—his greatness and his struggles. Not a story about a hero, but a real, complex Johnny Cash.”

“We want you to play him.”

Direct and to the point.

Anson blinked—

So that’s what this was.

Unexpected, but not really. As expected, it was another film project.

Anson tilted his chin slightly, “But why?”

“I mean, I assumed you two came to feel me out, that you had your considerations. I thought we’d discuss, exchange some thoughts, and after you’ve deliberated, then you’d formally make an offer.”

“But now?”

“So, what happened?”

Smart! Insightful! Quick.

Anson had almost figured out the whole situation!

And he was spot on.

Kitcher and Mangold exchanged looks, both astonished, hardly able to believe their ears.

It was hard to imagine how two old-timers were continuously outmaneuvered by a young guy in his early twenties.

Mangold realized then that from the moment they met, they had already lost the upper hand, allowing themselves to be led into this situation.

Now what? Should they be honest?

Chapter 1082: A Sincere Invitation

"You did it."

After a moment of shock and bewilderment, Mangold finally regained his composure and gave a response.

Next to him, Keats was briefly stunned but quickly nodded in agreement.

Mangold took a deep breath, organizing his thoughts.

"Honestly, you weren't our first choice. I'm sorry, I know that's very rude..."

Anson waved his hand slightly and chuckled, "If you told me I was the first choice, trust me, I wouldn't buy it."

"Hey, I know my situation. Flattery doesn't work on me."

Direct and sincere.

Keats couldn't help but nod slightly: Johnny Cash was like that too.

Mangold scratched his head, looking a bit awkward and embarrassed, letting out a couple of nervous laughs.

"We've tried to find several actors. Each had their strengths, and we hoped to find someone who looked like Johnny."

"That's standard in Hollywood. When we're shooting a biopic, physical resemblance is the first condition, but because of that, there are often shortcomings in other areas."

Anson nodded knowingly, lifting his chin slightly. "We have to admit, legends are legends because they can't be replicated."

What did that mean?

Was he subtly suggesting that actors who merely look like legends are nothing more than flashy frauds?

After all, legends typically have it all—looks, talent, charm. It's already rare for an imitator to resemble even one of these traits.

So, actors in biopics often face a dilemma:

They can capture the look, but not the essence. Surface-level imitation can't replicate the depth.

Undoubtedly, it's a contradictory topic—

On one hand, the film academy generally believes that biopics are the ultimate test of acting because the real-life figure is known to all, and capturing their spirit is no easy feat. This is also why biopics often dominate the Oscars.

Whether it's Best Actor or Best Actress, winning Oscars through biopics has the highest success rate.

On the other hand, biopics are often criticized by industry professionals for lacking space for actors to showcase their range, locking them into a framework where they can only perform within set boundaries, unable to fully explore their acting depth.

Biopics are also frequently slammed as "awkward imitations."

One direct and typical example is the 91st Academy Awards in February 2019, when Rami Malek won Best Actor for Bohemian Rhapsody, marking a major breakthrough in his career.

However, after the ceremony, he faced widespread criticism from industry professionals.

There were two main reasons for this.

First, Bohemian Rhapsody is a biopic about Queen, and the most exciting part of the film is the concert scenes. Many viewers complained that it felt like a concert documentary. However, all the singing in the film was lip-synced, meaning that the most thrilling parts had no contribution from Rami Malek.

It’s reminiscent of the backlash against Natalie Portman for Black Swan, where a professional ballet dancer did most of the heavy lifting in the dance scenes, but Portman took all the credit and won Best Actress.

Second, the movie didn't provide much room for Rami Malek to truly shine, and his performance relied heavily on a set of prosthetic teeth, leading to a portrayal that many found to be nothing more than a poor imitation.

While award decisions are always contentious, that year felt particularly glaring.

This remains Rami Malek’s only Oscar nomination to date.

If you think winning an Oscar involves some luck, the fact that Malek's career hasn't soared since his win, and he hasn’t landed many leading roles, hints at Hollywood’s attitude towards his performance.

So, starring in a biopic is a double-edged sword. It can help a seasoned actor like Gary Oldman finally win an Oscar, but it can also become the graveyard for many actors’ ambitions to showcase their talents.

Anson's insight and wisdom were apparent right from the start.

Mangold was taken aback, contemplating what Anson had just said. "I feel like you're hinting at something."

Before Anson could explain, Keats jumped in, "What? No way! He’s just saying that Johnny is one of a kind. That's right, kid, there’s only one Johnny, and no one can replace him."

His face beaming with satisfaction, Keats nodded repeatedly at Anson, clearly pleased.

Anson's eyes twinkled with a hint of a smile. "So, playing him in a biopic is bound to be a lot of pressure for anyone."

Mangold's expression grew strange, but he steered the conversation back on track. "So we have to clarify what our focus is."

"Is it physical resemblance? A similar aura? Or perhaps capturing his spirit?"

Anson lifted his chin slightly, a knowing glint in his eyes. "You're asking whether you want to make a film that merely recreates certain iconic images of Johnny Cash, or one that captures the essence of his career?"

"Bohemian Rhapsody" and Elvis belong to the former; The Pianist and Monster to the latter."

Snap!

Keats snapped his fingers, his face lighting up with excitement. "Exactly!"

At this point, Keats could hardly contain his excitement, glancing back and forth between Anson and Mangold like someone with ADHD, leaving Mangold slightly exasperated.

So Keats was dead set on Anson now, wasn’t he? No turning back?

But...

Mangold had no reason to refuse.

Ignoring Keats, Mangold turned to Anson, "What we’re aiming for is the latter."

"In this film, we want to explore Johnny’s creative process—how he transformed life’s experiences into musical melodies and how music helped him pull himself out of darkness and despair."

"Naturally, performance and creativity are critical."

"Instead of finding someone who merely looks the part but lacks depth, we want someone who can embody Johnny—someone who can sing, play, and create."

"Of course, that's not an easy task."

"The times have changed. Singer-songwriters aren't as popular anymore. Pretty faces like Justin Timberlake, who focus more on stage presence, are becoming the norm, which makes our job that much harder."

"Honestly, we’re not asking for much. We just want to find an actor who can sing and play. And of course, their voice needs to be charismatic."

The nonchalant tone made Anson burst into laughter—

"Not asking for much?"

In the '70s and '80s, the entertainment industry celebrated multi-talented performers, who could sing, dance, and act, continuing the rich tradition of the stage.

But entering the '90s, the industry shifted towards specialization. Cross-disciplinary artists became less common, and while they still exist to some extent, their frequency and quality have declined dramatically.

Nowadays, it's hard enough to find a musician who can sing, play instruments, compose, and perform—let alone an actor.

Mangold's casual tone seriously underestimated the reality.

*Chapter 1083: Bouncing Left and Right*

"Mm..."

Anson gently raised his chin and stretched out the last syllable, showing a pensive expression.

"So, you noticed me not because of my acting work, but because of the band?"

The tone was loaded with meaning, making it hard to tell if this was a good or bad thing.

However, Mangold didn’t care, nor did he bother reading into Anson’s expression.

"Yes."

Simply and directly, Mangold admitted it.

"We heard 'Ho Hey.' By the way, that’s a great track. We loved 'Ho Hey,' but with 'Long Live Life,' we felt..."

Mangold paused for a moment, not saying much more. He waved his right hand as if he was struggling to find the words.

"Haha." Anson burst out laughing. This Mangold guy was definitely a character.

Beside him, Kitche facepalmed.

Yet, Mangold seemed totally oblivious to his bluntness, barging through the conversation like a bull in a china shop.

"To put it simply, we like you."

"Johnny too. To be precise, Johnny was the first to mention you. He thought you might bring a pleasant surprise. It was an unexpected but right choice."

"We all agreed."

"In my vision, every performance in the entire movie needs to be done by the actors themselves. We not only need live singing, but even the equipment will all be the old stuff from the '60s and '70s. Everything as authentic as possible to capture Johnny’s charm."

"So, singing is acting, and it’s a crucial part."

"Considering everything, you’re the best choice."

"No, the perfect choice!"

Finally, after a long-winded explanation, Mangold got to the point.

This was indeed unexpected.

Anson hadn’t expected that what started as a casual band project could actually land him an acting job. It was quite a surprise.

Anson looked seriously at Mangold, "But?"

Because Mangold’s words suggested a twist was coming.

Kitche shook his head repeatedly.

Unfortunately, Kitche wasn’t quick enough to stop Mangold.

"But, we’re worried about your acting." Mangold didn’t mince words.

Kitche covered his face with both hands, utterly despairing.

Mangold finally noticed Kitche’s reaction but didn’t care. "Hey, James, let’s be honest. Anson isn’t Joaquin, right? You’ve always been concerned about Anson’s acting, haven’t you?"

Kitche couldn’t hold it any longer and let out a groan, "Oh God, James, you really need to learn how to shut up. The world would be a much better place."

Mangold wasn’t fazed at all. "I bet you want me to shut up and let you feed Anson some Hollywood PR crap that you don’t even believe yourselves. Trust me, Anson’s smart. He’d know you’re lying."

"In my opinion, honesty is a form of respect."

Kitche raised his hands in surrender, refusing to argue further.

Mangold turned back to Anson.

"We got Joaquin Phoenix. You know Joaquin Phoenix, right?"

Anson nodded in agreement—

Joaquin Phoenix, the younger brother of the late River Phoenix. Although he started acting in the early '90s, he had long lived in his brother’s shadow as the “genius prodigy.”

In 1993, River tragically passed away from an overdose outside Johnny Depp’s nightclub. Both Johnny Depp and Joaquin Phoenix were there.

His brother’s death had always been a haunting shadow for Joaquin.

In 2000, with his brilliant performance in Gladiator, Joaquin was nominated for Best Supporting Actor at the Oscars, finally making a name for himself as a prominent actor. He went on to become one of the most exceptional performers of his generation, with standout roles in The Master, Her, and others, ultimately winning Best Actor at the 92nd Academy Awards for Joker.

So how could Anson not know Joaquin?

Mangold, though, continued on without paying attention.

"Joaquin openly admitted he lacked confidence in playing the role, in portraying the character, and in performing live. He’s not a professional singer."

Anson interjected, "Neither am I."

Mangold was momentarily stunned, "But to us, you’re professional enough."

Anson smiled, "Thanks."

Mangold grinned. "Exactly."

"So, we’ve been weighing our options. We know you have a reputation—a pretty face, a guy who could make it big just on looks alone."

"Choosing Joaquin, or some other actor, they might nail the acting but could be a disaster in the music department."

"Choosing you, your live performances and musical interpretation would be flawless, but the acting could be a challenge."

Anson quipped, "Ouch."

No further words were needed. Anson clutched his chest and let out a playful groan—that said it all.

Mangold’s expression became a bit awkward. He froze mid-gesture, looking slightly embarrassed as he met Anson’s gaze.

"Too sharp?"

"I thought I had thick skin, but apparently, I need more practice."

"Sorry, I guess I just don’t know when to stop. How about we start over?"

"To get roasted all over again?"

Despite the banter, both men smiled, and soon they were laughing in sync.

Mangold raised his right hand. "But Anson, there’s one more thing."

"Yes, we have concerns; but after meeting you, those worries disappeared."

"Ask him. We all agree now—you’re the best choice."

Kitche nodded frantically.

"So, what do you think? Does that ‘but’ sound convincing enough?"

Both Jameses turned to Anson.

Anson pondered for a moment, "So this is the conclusion of your initial answer? I’ve made the cut, right?"

Mangold nodded enthusiastically, "Once we met in person, we could feel it. You may not look exactly like Johnny, but there’s a strange connection in your aura and charm."

Kitche finally joined in, "It’s the way you interact with others, the way you handle strangers, your smile, your gestures—it’s the best reasoning we have."

"Remember ‘The Man in Black’?"

"That nickname originally came about because of Johnny. Throughout most of his career, he always wore black."

Mangold naturally added, "Though I’ve never said this, Joaquin’s height is way off compared to Johnny’s."

"In Hollywood, finding someone tall, handsome, and striking like Johnny isn’t easy."

Tom Cruise, Robert Downey Jr., Joaquin Phoenix, Tobey Maguire—all caught a stray bullet in that remark.

Mangold looked Anson up and down once more, "All I can think right now is that you’re the perfect choice. I truly hope you’ll take this role. This will be a masterpiece. I guarantee it."

Kitche nodded again, "Completely. One hundred percent."

The two Jameses, playing off each other in unison, conveyed their passion and conviction, their overwhelming enthusiasm washing over Anson.

He could clearly feel their energy, burning like a roaring fire.

His gaze shifted between the two men, a smile quietly creeping up on his face.

"So, let me summarize and see if I’ve got it right?"

*Chapter 1084: A Perfect Match*

"So, let me summarize and see if I got this right?"

"You like my band, you like my look and my height — especially this all-black outfit, but you just don’t like my performance."

“It’s not that we don’t like it; it’s that we don’t trust it.”

"If I hadn’t chosen this black look, and instead went with white or blue, maybe the tone and content of this conversation would be entirely different."

"Yet, you still want me to accept this movie role."

"Is that correct?"

Anson looked left at Keecher and right at Mangold, still keeping a smile.

The air suddenly went quiet.

Without warning, Keecher kicked Mangold under the table.

“Why did you have to be honest? You couldn’t keep your mouth shut, and now what?”

Keecher leaned back in his chair, shoulders slumped, looking utterly defeated.

The scene was somewhat comical.

After all, Keecher, with his graying hair, had been in Hollywood for over thirty years. Yet, seeing him express himself so vividly was quite... unique.

Mangold, caught off guard, stammered, "No, that's not it."

Anson raised an eyebrow slightly.

Mangold, who had just puffed up his chest, deflated again, like a balloon losing air. "Now that I hear it, it does sound that way, but..."

Anson raised his right hand to stop him. "Director, don’t worry, I’m not upset."

Mangold asked, “You’re not?”

Anson smiled. “No. I know where I stand right now. If you told me you came all this way because of my amazing acting skills, I wouldn’t believe a word of it. After all, amazing acting? What movie was that?”

He made a self-deprecating joke.

Mangold smiled again, glancing at Keecher and rubbing his hands together excitedly.

Keecher, too, couldn’t help but get a little hyped up. “So, what you’re saying is…”

Anson didn’t answer directly. “Allow me to lay out the situation.”

“You just said you want to explore Johnny’s creative inspiration, to show how Johnny turned his life’s pain into artistic expression. Clearly, this requires acting."

"Instead of casting an actor who's all looks but lacks spirit, you need someone who can capture Johnny’s essence."

"By that measure, Joaquin Phoenix would be a better fit, wouldn’t he?”

Anson’s logic was calm, objective, and clear.

Anson brought the conversation back on track, and Mangold followed along. "Yes, that’s the key point."

“Acting.”

“Here, when we talk about acting, it’s not just about emotions like joy or sorrow, or merely delivering lines. It’s about performing both as an actor and a musician.”

“On one hand, the actor needs to portray Johnny’s struggles. We won’t shy away from Johnny’s dark years — the alcohol, the drugs, the affairs, and more. He’s been to some very dark places, and we need an actor who can show that."

"On the other hand, the actor must convey how Johnny expressed himself through music during those struggles — his understanding of music, the emotions he poured into it, and how he used music as a bridge to connect with his audience. Most importantly, the actor must show how Johnny used his life experiences as the foundation for his music."

"Joaquin can't do that. But you can."

“If I’m not mistaken, you wrote all the songs for your band’s album, right?"

“I’ve watched your performances — from the streets of New York, to ‘The Tonight Show,’ to your European street tour — and no one fits better than you."

“You create music based on your life experiences and feelings.”

"I believe you’re the perfect choice to play Johnny."

It all came out in a rush.

Though Mangold still seemed a bit flustered and occasionally tripped over his words, he finally gave Anson a direct answer.

Keecher seized the moment too. “Anson, I owe you an apology."

"Those prejudices were mostly mine."

"Please forgive me. I’ve known Johnny for half my life. He wasn’t just a friend. I didn’t think anyone could play him — not you, not Joaquin. I’ve always had that bias."

“I thought, maybe — just maybe — Joaquin could use his acting skills to make up for the gaps and present a different version of Johnny.”

"But today, as James just said, regardless of the reasons, and whether it’s because of this black outfit or not, the truth is…”

Keecher took a deep breath.

“I see Johnny in you. It’s not about looking like him, or even having the same spirit. Actually, you two don’t have any physical resemblance at all. But the energy you both have is so similar."

“I don’t know what James thinks, but I want to see you play Johnny on the big screen. I’m curious to see which side of him you’ll bring to life."

“If we’ve offended you, I apologize again.”

As Keecher spoke, his tone became more dejected.

Everything felt a bit chaotic.

Nothing had gone according to plan today. Keecher now had a bad feeling, as though they had messed everything up.

Just as Anson was about to respond, the café door suddenly swung open.

Jingling bells rang out as the door was pushed with enough force to make the wind chimes clatter, grabbing everyone’s attention — including both Jameses.

Anson, who had his back to the door, was the last to turn around, only to see a whirlwind charging towards them.

“Anson! Hey, Anson!”

Out of breath, looking like he had sprinted all the way, the newcomer didn’t even bother to catch his breath. He turned to the two Jameses and extended his hand.

“Edgar Cooke. Sorry to interrupt, truly sorry, but I need to check something with Anson.”

After a brief introduction and exchange of pleasantries, Edgar turned back to Anson with a smile.

“How much longer do you need here? There are three interviews waiting for you outside. Kristen and James can go first, and you can join later.”

In just a few words, a lot of information was conveyed.

Keecher and Mangold exchanged a glance — the agent was here. That meant the rest of the conversation would now be monitored by the agent, making things a bit more constrained.

It wasn’t personal against Edgar; it was just how every Hollywood agent operated.

If you wanted to win over an actor, you had to focus on the script, the role, the co-stars, and the director. But if you wanted to win over an agent, you needed to talk about the budget, the paycheck, and the shooting schedule.

Of course, agents cared about the script and the role too, but their priorities were different. This subtle shift in focus inevitably affected the tone of the conversation.

This time, it was Keecher who spoke. “Anson, since you’ve got more work to do, we won’t keep you.”

“Thank you so much for today. We dropped in unexpectedly, and yet you still took the time to talk with us.”

“And, we’ve definitely taken more than just five minutes for a cup of coffee. Thank you.”

After the emotional rollercoaster of the day, now that things had settled down, it was clear that Anson’s patience, sincerity, and easygoing nature were the real highlights.

Keecher couldn’t help but admire Anson. It made sense why he had such a great reputation within Hollywood.

Otherwise, who would really care about some pretty face?

The subtle, unspoken qualities Anson carried spoke louder than words.

Keecher took a deep breath. “Well then, we’ll stop interrupting you for now.”

Chapter 1085: Intercepting the Script

Taking a deep breath, Kitchel composed himself, showing a calm demeanor. "Well then, we won’t bother you any further for now."

Kitchel glanced at Mangold, who still seemed reluctant to leave, trying to persuade Anson further. With a subtle signal, he gestured towards Edgar, who had been observing quietly but intently. Despite Edgar’s calm smile, Mangold understood and reluctantly pulled out his chair, standing with a visible sense of disappointment and frustration. His body language spoke volumes without the need for words.

Kitchel felt a twinge of sympathy but didn’t know how to defend Mangold’s position, so he simply smiled awkwardly at Edgar, trying to cover the awkwardness.

Unexpectedly, Anson spoke up, “Wait.”

All eyes turned to him.

“If you don’t mind, could you send me the script? I’d like to read through it.”

There was a pause.

Suddenly, the air seemed to still, as the background noise of the café—customers chatting, the hum of the coffee machine—flooded in, almost as if someone had turned up the white noise to its maximum. Everything became sharply audible.

Kitchel and Edgar were both about to speak, but Mangold was quicker.

“Sure.”

His eyes lit up with excitement, and he seemed to bounce lightly on his feet as if standing on springs.

“Of course, no problem.”

Although Edgar had missed his chance to speak, he composed himself and said, “Send it directly to William Morris. I’ll make sure it gets to Anson.”

Mangold hesitated, casting a wary glance at Edgar before finally turning back to Anson, as though afraid Edgar might intercept the script.

Edgar couldn’t help but smile wryly.

Anson glanced at Edgar, a faint hint of amusement in his eyes, before looking back at Mangold and nodding lightly.

“No worries. Sending it to William Morris is fine; I’ll get it.”

Mangold finally relaxed. “I’m really looking forward to hearing your feedback.”

After exchanging a few more pleasantries, Mangold and Kitchel excused themselves and left the café without lingering further. As soon as they stepped outside, they took a deep breath of fresh air.

Kitchel paused, glancing back towards the café, watching Anson’s silhouette.

Now that he had calmed down and the rush of adrenaline had subsided, he thought he would second-guess his decision, questioning whether Anson was the right fit for the project. As Anson had mentioned himself, could his acting be trusted?

So far, the most prominent label attached to Anson was still that of a “pretty face.” Even though "The Elephant" had won the Palme d'Or at Cannes, Anson hadn’t yet proven himself as an actor. Maybe he had box office appeal, but could this handsome actor really act?

Leonardo DiCaprio had faced similar skepticism. Despite Titanic having been a massive hit six years prior, when Gangs of New York came out, doubts and criticisms about Leonardo still dominated the conversation, filled with prejudice and taunts. And then there was Reeves.

One film, Catch Me If You Can, wasn’t nearly enough to shed the “pretty boy” label.

So, could Anson really carry the weight of a role in a biopic, truly inhabiting the character and exploring their inner world?

These doubts persisted. Kitchel was no different from the general public.

He thought he would feel uncertain, regretful even, as his excitement cooled and his logical mind kicked in, expecting all of Anson’s shortcomings to resurface.

But they didn’t.

It was just an instinct, but that instinct had become clearer and more confident as time passed. He felt a strange sense of peace.

“James?”

Mangold’s voice snapped Kitchel out of his thoughts. He turned and followed, taking a couple of steps forward before breaking the silence.

“Maybe he’s a hidden gem, don’t you think?”

“Aye, sir,” Mangold replied playfully.

Kitchel smiled brightly.

Meanwhile, back in the café.

Anson looked up at Edgar but didn’t rush to leave.

Edgar could see the amused glint in Anson’s eyes. He straightened his expression. “Were they worried I wouldn’t pass the script on to you?”

Anson shrugged lightly. “If you didn’t like the script, would you intercept it?”

Bathed in Anson’s bright gaze, Edgar eventually admitted, “I can’t deny it.”

Anson laughed.

Edgar threw up his hands. “Hey, it’s my job. What’s a manager supposed to do if not that? I’m not a babysitter. They shouldn’t go behind my back and reach out to you directly.”

Anson’s eyes sparkled with humor. “Are you feeling threatened as a manager?”

Edgar cleared his throat, trying to change the subject. “The interviews—those are real. Three teams are waiting in your trailer.”

Anson replied, “I don’t doubt that. But I’m sure there’s no rush, right?”

Edgar opened his mouth to argue but swallowed his words. “How’d you figure that out? Was my acting that bad? Did they notice too?”

Anson shrugged. “If you were seriously considering becoming an actor, you might need a bit more practice. Otherwise, you’ll end up just like me—a pretty face.”

The joke was clear. Edgar chuckled dryly and sat down across from Anson.

Anson explained, “If it was urgent, you would’ve sent Noah to handle the reporters while you stayed to keep them calm. But since you showed up yourself, it’s clear the situation is different.”

Edgar blinked, then shook his head in realization. “Is your brain always working that fast?”

Anson smiled. “So you shouldn’t worry about me being tricked by them.”

Edgar paused, then burst out laughing. “Right, I should be worried about them being tricked by you.”

Anson smirked. “You say tricked, I say charm. Let’s agree to disagree.”

Edgar laughed out loud.

Anson glanced out the window, no longer seeing the two Jameses, then turned back to Edgar. “What’s the matter? You seem unusually tense. Did you sprint over here?”

Edgar sat down. “Did you guys agree on anything?”

Anson responded, “You saw the outcome. I’m just going to read the script; that’s all.”

Edgar looked conflicted. “Anson, this might not be a good project.”

Not surprising, but also not expected.

Considering the way Mangold and Kitchel had bypassed Edgar to speak with Anson directly, Anson had already guessed Edgar wouldn’t be fond of it. Or perhaps the two Jameses had feared Edgar would be an obstacle, so they chose to go behind his back.

Now, Edgar’s reaction confirmed this.

But why?

Anson looked at Edgar. “Is the script that bad?”

Edgar sighed. “To be honest, I don’t know. I haven’t read it. But that was James Mangold and James Kitchel, right? They’re working on a Johnny Cash biopic, aren’t they?”

Anson nodded.

Edgar continued, “Exactly. As soon as I heard them mention Johnny Cash, I knew it had to be that project, so I rushed over.”

“Something feels off.”