Kazir, who had been drinking beer all night, slowly and weakly sat up, his head throbbing as if it had been struck by a heavy hammer. He couldn't help but let out a muffled groan.
...Water.
He mumbled weakly, his voice hoarse as if abraded by sandpaper.
Although he usually enjoyed a few drinks, he always exercised restraint and rarely allowed himself to get into such a dishevelled state.
But last night, David Fincher, as if possessed, pulled him into drink after drink, and his enthusiasm was simply too hard to refuse.
In the end, David was a drunken mess, slumped in his chair, mumbling incoherently.
Kazir had no choice but to call Fincher's wife, and it took a great deal of effort to explain David's condition.
His own car was still sitting alone in the bar's parking lot.
He had taken a taxi home last night, and his last memory was stumbling and staggering into his apartment. What happened after that was a complete blank.
Ugh...
Kazir frowned, staring at the puddle of vomit on the floor. His stomach churned, and he knew without a doubt that it was most likely his own.
He shook his head helplessly, muttering, "Damn David, I'm never drinking with you again."
With his head feeling like it was about to explode, Kazir forced himself to get up and find a mop to clean up the vomit on the floor.
He checked the time: 8:30 AM, half an hour before the studio opened.
He shook his dizzy head and went into the bathroom for a cold shower. The icy water instantly sobered him up a bit.
On the way, he bought a cup of coffee from a street-side cafe and gulped down a few mouthfuls. The bitter taste spread across his tongue, but it also helped to perk him up slightly.
Afterward, he first went to the bar to pick up his car. The old, beat-up vehicle was still in its original spot, covered with a thin layer of dust, making it look even more dilapidated.
By the time he arrived at the studio, it was almost 8:50, but luckily, Rekote had just arrived as well.
The two of them, as usual, dove into their editing work early in the morning.
With over forty years of directing experience, Kazir was very clear about camera angles, transitions, and editing. He even meticulously polished the rhythm of the lines.
In comedy, the rhythm of the lines is crucial, especially when delivering a punchline. Even a One Second difference can significantly diminish the effect.
Pfft...
Rekote suddenly burst out laughing. He was watching the edited segment where Pedro Sanchez shaved his head completely to cool off.
His comical appearance, coupled with exaggerated expressions, was truly hilarious.
Did you really write this?
Rekote turned his head, looking at Kazir with surprise.
He never expected that someone as serious as Kazir could write such a comedic script and even direct it himself.
"Yes. Inspiration struck, and I couldn't stop it. I just don't know if I'll be able to write another script like this in the future," Kazir responded with a smile, a hint of uncertainty in his eyes.
"To be honest, I think this might be your last comedy. Don't get me wrong, we've collaborated three times, and most of what you've filmed are B-grade horror movies. I think you're better suited for horror films."
Rekote said seriously. He knew that Se7en had sold for a good price and caused quite a stir in the industry, and he believed that Kazir had a unique talent for gory subjects.
Kazir gave a wry smile; he didn't think so at all.
Horror films had never treated him well. Those bloody, thrilling scenes, while attracting some viewers, also brought him endless trouble and pressure.
He felt he had to take a different path. He dreamed of making action films, the kind of passionate and exhilarating movies that could make audiences' blood boil.
But that would require a large investment, and a small director like him couldn't even dream of it. Without strong financial support, even the best ideas would remain castles in the air.
Days passed, and the wrap-up party for napoleon dynamite arrived.
The wrap-up party was actually just a small gathering, nothing grand. A proper celebration would have to wait until the movie became a big hit.
The party was organized by Reiner and Harold, and most of the actors were there.
Ed Helms and a few newcomers gathered around again, thanking Kazir profusely. The same few words of gratitude were repeated over and over, and Kazir was getting tired of hearing them, thinking that once was enough and there was no need for such repeated expressions.
"Um... Director?" At this moment, a clear voice spoke up.
"Reese, the filming is over, don't call me Director anymore, just call me Kazir," Kazir said with a smile, trying to make his tone sound more approachable.
"Then... Kazir, would you like to go for a walk together?" As Reese finished speaking, her face flushed instantly, and she was incredibly nervous, unconsciously tugging at the corner of her clothes with both hands.
Fortunately, the two were standing in a corner of the party, with people coming and going, so no one heard their conversation.
"Go out? Sorry Reese, I'm busy!" Kazir shook his head. He'd rather go back to the studio and continue editing the film.
Is that so...
Reese bit her lip, her face full of embarrassment.
She had mustered up the courage to invite Kazir, only to be rejected. Any girl would feel bad in that situation.
Kazir wasn't stupid; how could he not understand Reese's feelings?
Since his rebirth last October, his original body's failed marriage had affected him, making him uninterested in relationships. He didn't want to date for now, at least not at the moment.
Besides, Reese was only 19, too young. He couldn't tell if she genuinely liked him or had ulterior motives, especially in a complicated place like Hollywood, where anything could happen.
Then... see you later?
Reese forced a smile, her eyes glistening with tears. Her pitiful appearance made him feel a little sorry for her.
Kazir sighed and said, "Are you free on September 22nd?"
He felt a bit guilty and didn't want Reese to be too disappointed.
September 22nd? That's two weeks away! Reese was puzzled, not understanding why Kazir suddenly asked this.
As a minor actress, she usually didn't have many acting gigs, so she naturally didn't have much work.
"A movie is premiering that day. I have two premiere tickets. If you're free, would you like to go see it together?" Kazir explained.
A movie? Reese tilted her head, looking bewildered.
She had no idea what new films were being released this month.
"Yes, a script I wrote. They gave me two tickets," Kazir said with a smile.
"Okay, I'll contact you then," Reese smiled playfully, then ran off like a cheerful little deer, looking quite adorable.
Am I looking for trouble?
Kazir watched Reese's retreating figure, muttered to himself, and didn't pay much attention.
In his opinion, a pretty young girl like Reese probably wouldn't take him seriously anyway. She might even forget about it in a couple of days.
His emotional path in his previous life had always been difficult, and he had suffered too many heartbreaks in relationships, so he no longer believed in true love.
Who still believes in true love after being in the entertainment industry for so long?
Kazir shook his head helplessly, muttering to himself.
In his heart, this place only recognized faces, money, and benefits. If you couldn't provide those, you should leave early and not harbor any unrealistic fantasies.
From that day on, Kazir devoted all his time to editing. He raced against the clock, wanting to complete post-production around the time Se7en was released.
If Se7en became a hit, his standing in the industry would undoubtedly rise, and he would have more leverage, allowing him to sell his films with greater confidence.