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?