Life in Columbus was pleasant and leisurely.
In the blink of an eye, Anson had been there for three weeks without revealing his whereabouts. The local residents never suspected that the famous Anson was in Columbus; to them, he was just a handsome young artist visiting to gather inspiration, with no hint of a connection to Hollywood.
Anson came and went freely, whether at the supermarket, gas station, convenience store, or a small restaurant. He moved around without needing a hat or sunglasses, wearing a floral shirt and white sneakers, enjoying a long-lost sense of ease. Life was particularly relaxed and comfortable.
Once again, Anson felt grateful that the age of smartphones and social networks had not yet arrived. As long as he stayed away from the spotlight, the world could quiet down.
Looking at Anson's carefree and relaxed demeanor, Lucas had much to say but swallowed his words—he liked seeing Anson this way, enjoying a leisurely time.
After a moment's pause, Lucas pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it over.
"You've got paint on your cheek. Anyone who sees you might think you're still celebrating the carnival."
Anson waved his hand in refusal. "I'll wash my face later. If I wipe it now, it'll just smear everywhere and create a mess."
Lucas didn't insist, instead standing before Anson's painting to admire it. In the Wood family, the other three members were artistically inclined and worked in related fields, while Lucas was the exception—he worked with numbers.
Despite that, Lucas wasn't completely ignorant of art.
"It looks like you've been in a good mood lately. The colors are bright and saturated, and the lines are light and fluid. Is this an autumn of harvest?"
Anson shrugged lightly. "That's what autumn in Columbus is like."
Lucas glanced around and found an open script on the table. "What about the script? Is it going well? I thought it was supposed to be a sad story?"
"Heavy. Chaotic. But not sad," Anson replied thoughtfully.
"To be honest, I don't know how to accurately describe this script."
"Confusing, maybe."
Lucas asked, "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"
Anson hesitated. "I don't know." After pondering for a moment, he shook his head again, repeating, "I don't know."
"You could discuss it with the screenwriter, see if there's a way to revise it," Lucas suggested.
"That's the problem," Anson said. "I don't know how to revise it."
"Biographies are special, no doubt, because the person really existed. You can't just mold them like clay, as people are complex. They can be kind but also have a dark side, they can struggle yet stay true to their beliefs, they can suffer trauma from family while continuing to hurt the people they love."
"When making a movie, we often focus on a single aspect of a character or a particular arc, presenting it in ninety minutes."
"But biographies don't work that way."
Lucas interrupted, "Why not? A biopic is still a film. It's not like we're writing a literary masterpiece like 'In Search of Lost Time.'"
"You're right," Anson agreed. "I should rephrase."
"Outstanding biopics often capture one aspect or core idea of a person while still showcasing their complexity."
"But most biopics fail to do that."
"People think the main issue is that the creators are too greedy, trying to grasp everything and ending up with nothing."
"I believe it's because the creators don't truly understand the person, or they haven't figured out the story they want to tell."
"'Walk the Line' doesn't have that problem."
"In fact, they know exactly what story they want to tell, and they understand Johnny Cash very well, perhaps too well. The story feels bloated because Cash himself knows which events had a profound impact on him, which memories still haunt him."
"It's like writing your own memoir; memories come flooding in, and every fragment feels precious, making it difficult to prioritize."
Lucas nodded in understanding. "Can't you just sort it out and condense it?"
Anson spread his hands. "There's no place to start."
"Because this is Johnny Cash's life, and he was involved in the scriptwriting process. His name is the second one listed under writers."
"Plus, this subjective perspective has its pros and cons."
"The advantage is that everything feels deeply personal; the wounds, the pain, the struggles are all real, and the emotions are intense."
"The drawback is that the entire universe revolves around him, with everyone else reduced to supporting roles, almost like tools, as if all the mistakes were someone else's fault."
"I'm not sure whether that's a good thing or a bad thing, and I can't find a way to revise it."
It wasn't until he delved deep into it that Anson realized how precious a well-written biopic script truly was.
Since the turn of the millennium, countless biopics had been made, some of them very famous, but the script for "The Social Network" remained a peak that was hard to surpass. It created a character who was both hateful and pitiable, tragic yet strong, enviable and despicable—a vivid, three-dimensional portrayal.
That's incredibly difficult to achieve.
Lucas was somewhat surprised. "No wonder people say biopics should be made after the person has passed away. I guess this is why?"
Anson shrugged lightly.
The point was that both Kitchen and Mangold were quite committed to this script, and a complete rewrite was out of the question.
Anson agreed that it wasn't necessary anyway.
"So, what's your plan?" Lucas asked.
"To be honest, I don't have any ideas at the moment," Anson replied after some thought.
"Actually, there's no need to revise the script. I'm just an actor. My job is to perform, and there are professionals to handle everything else. Even if the script isn't perfect, I don't see it as a big issue."
"The real problem is that I'm lacking a bit of confidence."
Although Anson believed that Joaquin's performance in the previous version was overshadowed by Reese's, it was still remarkable. Joaquin's portrayal of the character was undoubtedly full of brilliance and worthy of respect.
Now, if Anson took on the role, it would mean surpassing Joaquin—at least in his own eyes. It would also mark his first real challenge with a deeply complex performance, and he couldn't simply reimagine the character according to his own ideas—because Johnny Cash was a real person, and the public already had their own image of him.
Playing a real-life character in a biopic starts with imitation.
The actor must strip away their own personality and mimic the character as a matter of technique; resemblance to the real person remains a crucial benchmark.
After mastering the imitation, the next step is to infuse the character with one's own understanding and soul.
The difficulty is obvious.
Lucas was a bit taken aback. It was the first time he'd seen Anson lack confidence.
"I thought you'd already done a biopic once. Shouldn't you have some insights?"