"Anson…"
"Anson!"
The round-faced man shouted repeatedly, but his voice was drowned out by a chorus of laughter and chatter. Finally, he managed to catch Anson's attention.
Anson looked slightly surprised to see a completely unfamiliar face on set, but he quickly reacted. Taking a step forward, he used his body as a shield to block a bucket of water aid at the round-faced man. Turning his head, he called out, "Hey, careful, let's not damage the plants."
Having fun is one thing, but it's not good to hurt the innocent.
With the playful laughter fading, Anson turned his attention back to the round-faced man. "Is there sothing I can help you with? Or are you lost and need so guidance? Which production crew are you looking for?"
A white-haired man standing a few steps behind silently observed the scene.
Amid the chaos, Anson remained smiling, his eyes bright and approachable, showing no signs of a superstar attitude. At the sa ti, he exuded a warm and radiant aura, making everything else seem insignificant. The entire world's focus was on him.
One glance was enough.
In Hollywood, people often say, "You can tell if soone has star power with just one look." But real life isn't a Hollywood movie. Actors who can exude star quality with just a glance are rare. Most of that talk is just to justify their supposed foresight and power over others' fates.
That's all.
But occasionally, very occasionally, Hollywood life gives you a fleeting glimpse, where your gaze is drawn before your mind can catch up.
In monts like these, you realize that the aura of a star is real.
Here was such a mont.
Instinctively, the white-haired man stepped forward, squeezing in front of the round-faced man and interrupting the conversation. With a tone more urgent than he realized, he asked, "Do you know Johnny Cash?"
Anson sensed the sudden intensity and didn't answer imdiately. Instead, he sized up the white-haired man while keeping his smile. "Sorry, I can't help. There's no Johnny Cash in our crew, at least none that I know of. But you could ask around..."
"No." The white-haired man cut him off. "Not just any Johnny Cash. In Arica, there's only one Johnny Cash."
Anson raised an eyebrow, searching his mory.
From the man's tone, it was clear that Johnny Cash was soone famous, but unfortunately, the na didn't ring a bell for Anson—after all, he wasn't an all-knowing encyclopedia.
Though it felt a bit awkward, Anson shook his head and spread his hands. "Sorry, I still can't help. Are you sure you don't need help with sothing else?"
That single response left the white-haired man montarily stunned, standing frozen, shocked and incredulous. A hint of anger flashed across his face, but instead of exploding, he let out an odd smile.
In just one second, his face displayed a full range of emotions.
The round-faced man, clearly anxious, scratched his head and stamred, "We... we're here to see you. You, Anson Wood."
Things were escalating rather quickly and unexpectedly.
So, what exactly was happening here? Was this so kind of scam? Or a prank show?
In a different setting, Anson might have left quickly to ensure his safety. But this was the Sony Columbia Studios lot in Los Angeles, with at least six film crews working nearby. Only industry professionals could enter, so Anson didn't rush to leave.
His first thought? It must be so kind of prank show.
For viewers ten or twenty years later, the entertainnt landscape was filled with diverse options, and older formats had faded. But in the early 2000s, prank shows that staged surprises or awkward situations were hugely popular.
They'd prank actors, singers, or random people, filming their reactions for entertainnt. These shows were imnsely popular, often with the show's crew coordinating with an actor's manager to keep the prank secret.
Anson had reason to believe that this was likely arranged by Edgar, his agent. So, what show was it?
He remained patient. "So, are you here to discuss work? You can contact my agent; he should be on set today as well."
The round-faced man, clearly aware that things had gotten ssy, took a deep breath to calm himself. "Sorry, Anson, please forgive our abruptness."
"I'm… uh, I'm Jas Mangold, the director. I have a project I'd like to discuss with you."
"I know, I know, we should go through your agent. Trust , I understand how Hollywood works. But before we start formal talks with your agent, we wanted to speak with you directly. Maybe you could spare five minutes—just enough for a cup of coffee."
Wait, this wasn't a prank show?
Now things were awkward.
Jas Mangold. Director.
The director of Girl, Interrupted and Identity, the forr earning Angelina Jolie her first Oscar nomination for Best Supporting Actress. The latter, released earlier this year, didn't make waves at the box office but beca a cult favorite in the DVD market, praised as a low-budget sci-fi classic.
Of course, Jas Mangold's most famous film would be 2017's Logan, which redefined the superhero genre by portraying an aging Wolverine's struggles, earning Mangold an Oscar nomination for Best Adapted Screenplay.
Few people knew that Mangold was classically trained, starting his career writing nurous animated scripts for Disney before transitioning to directing at 32.
Mangold might not be a household na, and his academic background may have tempered his creative wildness, but there was no doubt about his passion for filmmaking. He was a director deeply committed to exploring character depth, often relying heavily on strong performances from actors.
Anson was familiar with Mangold's na, especially since Identity was one of his favorite indie sci-fi films from earlier this year. But Mangold wasn't a flashy figure, so Anson hadn't imdiately connected the face with the na.
Until the director introduced himself.
Now, the surprise hit him full force.
Anson, feeling a bit awkward, didn't hide it and clung to one last shred of hope. "Sorry, this isn't so kind of prank show, is it?"
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