The unique aspect of the movie "Butterfly Effect" lies in its exploration beyond re ti travel. It's about unraveling the psychological changes that define the story's frawork. In other words, everything has a root cause.
Because of this, McKee and Eric were especially resistant when outsiders tried to give them advice—they believed those people simply didn't understand.
But when Anson started discussing the topic from the perspective of the story's roots and motivations, McKee and Eric were drawn in without even realizing it.
However, Anson wasn't deeply knowledgeable about psychology, so he couldn't be entirely sure of his ideas. He rely threw out a possibility, hoping to spark a brainstorming session.
"Maybe we should leave a clue."
"For example, even though Evan is in a relationship, he's not happy. Or, Evan always feels sothing is missing in his life, often zoning out but unable to pinpoint why."
"Or maybe, he retains so of his purest and simplest mories or habits—actions or states that connect back to Keller, linking the past to the present on a psychological level."
"Many people believe that first love is irreplaceable for a variety of reasons. A primary reason is the simplicity of that love, untainted by the complications of life, a pure relationship. This often leads people to equate first love with ultimate happiness, much like our desire to return to childhood."
"That's why Evan believes that fulfilling his first love would complete his life."
"In the opening scene of the movie, we don't need much—just a small thread, a mory, a habit, sothing that connects back to Keller. This could serve as the key to unlocking the rest of the story."
Anson was trying his best to give the character room to develop and expand without disrupting the frawork and narrative rhythm of the script.
In genre films, actors only need a small space to perform—not too greedy or ambitious, just the right amount.
Anson's biggest concern was not disrupting the film's own narrative flow—that would be a real disaster.
So, Anson didn't provide specific instructions on what McKee and Eric should do. Instead, he offered an idea and handed the creative reins back to the writers.
So, what was the outco?
Even though Anson had been extrely cautious, even though he had naturally guided the conversation into the topic through a series of deliberate steps, even though he had firmly captured the writers' attention, bringing them just to the brink of success…
McKee caught on at the last mont.
"Are you trying to teach us how to write a script?"
With that one sentence, the atmosphere instantly cooled.
McKee finally broke free from Anson's control, his reason returning. He looked at Anson with a face full of suspicion, his guard up, his expression sharp.
Anson was slightly taken aback. He glanced at Eric and noticed that he, too, had tensed up. With a light sigh, Anson didn't try to hide his thoughts.
"Ah, I was so close."
McKee: ???
Anson didn't evade, eting McKee's gaze openly.
"No, I'm not teaching you how to write a script. I'm participating in the creation of this film as an actor."
"You both know that in making a movie, it's not just the writer and director who contribute. The actor, the cinematographer, the lighting technicians, and many others are also involved, right?"
McKee muttered, "What a load of crap."
His deanor was anything but friendly.
But Anson didn't get angry; instead, he found it amusing—
As he had told Edgar, he understood McKee and Eric's position because they were in similar situations. He understood their mindset, their persistence, and their resistance. But the difference was that he had options, whereas McKee and Eric were standing on the edge of a cliff.
"McKee."
"You know, I have options."
"I could make demands from a producer's standpoint, insisting that you make changes, or we part ways."
Anson noticed that McKee was about to respond, but this ti, Anson cut him off.
"Of course, you could refuse, and the negotiations would end. We wouldn't waste each other's ti, you'd continue searching for another investor, and I'd keep looking for my next project."
"But I didn't."
"After all this back-and-forth, I've been playing this ga of wits with you not because I have too much ti on my hands—I'd rather be sunbathing in Cancun than sitting here dealing with your attitudes. It's because I like this project, I agree with your ideas, and I genuinely hope we can work together to bring this project to life."
"You could tell to get lost, saying that you've spent seven years on this script and know it better than anyone."
"But at the sa ti, you must admit that sotis, when you're too close to sothing, you lose perspective. A third party can often open up a new line of thought in the creative process."
"So, the story circles back to the beginning."
"Set aside your stubbornness and consider whether our discussion just now has any value."
Anson chose his words carefully, one by one—
He didn't argue about who was right or wrong, didn't condescend or criticize, and didn't press aggressively. He maintained his cooperative stance throughout.
Clearly, Eric was swayed. He glanced at Anson, then at McKee, who remained unmoved, and anxiously called out, "McKee," but McKee didn't respond.
Anson wasn't surprised. He flashed a smile, "I think that's enough for today. If you're interested, you know my agent's phone number."
With that, Anson picked up his soda, took a sip, checked the nu, and pulled out his wallet to pay for his drink.
Under Eric's bewildered gaze, Anson calmly and leisurely completed this series of actions, nodded in acknowledgnt, and then got up to leave.
Eric's eyes darted back and forth between Anson and McKee, watching helplessly as Anson exited the café. At the door, two fans approached him. Anson politely declined their request for a photo but gave each of them a hug, causing a stir of whispers and squeals from onlookers.
Eric couldn't hold it in any longer. He turned to McKee and shouted.
"McKee!"
McKee had to use all his strength to control the urge to turn around.
Eric was exasperated.
"McKee, he's already the perfect choice. Even if he's not a perfect 100, he's at least 99."
"He's right."
"His ideas and inspiration have completely shut us up. Not only does he understand the project inside out, but he's also researched the character and the script, and he's bringing us investnt. What more could you ask for?"
McKee was also frustrated. "That's exactly why he's dangerous. Either he knows nothing and just focuses on acting, or he's an expert in everything—production, distribution, marketing, the whole nine yards."
"Soone like him, who's neither here nor there but thinks he's particularly smart, is the worst kind of collaborator. They love to interfere in everything, and that's a recipe for disaster."
Eric didn't care. "So, tell , of all the producers or actors we've t so far, has any of them not tried to interfere or acted self-important? Is there anyone better than Anson?"
"At least, Anson is trying."
"So, what exactly are you still hoping for?"
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