In the realm of manager talk, the timing might indeed be a tad premature," Andy remarked with a gentle smile. "After all, your career has just embarked upon its journey, and the matters requiring attention aren't as numerous. Yet, I cannot be by your side every single moment. You require a manager who can be at your side, attentively observing shifts in your work, and then liaising with me."
"I thought Nathan played that role," Renly jestingly chimed in.
A soft chuckle escaped Andy's lips. "Nathan can assist with various trivial matters around you, including arranging your daily life and such. However, in the domain of work, his capacity for aid remains quite limited. For instance, take the negotiations in Sundance this time; having the actor personally involved isn't the optimal choice."
Discussions about fees, profit sharing debates, and rights disputes were not only trivial but also fraught with deceit. A misstep could easily rip the delicate facade.
Throughout the negotiation process, image hardly held any ground; what mattered more was that should offense be taken, the aggrieved party needed a target for their ire. This is why it was crucial for the agent or manager to intervene, to shoulder the blame and thus preserve the actor's virtuous image.
It resembled the world of football leagues—when a team lost, fans invariably sought someone to vent their frustrations upon. The head coach often turned into a scapegoat, rather than the higher echelons of the team management or the players on the field.
The agents, managers, PR personnel, assistants, and others surrounding an actor all played such roles, an integral part of their job.
When necessary, actors could dismiss their staff to quell controversies. Otherwise, the production company would direct their fury at the actor, irreparably damaging their connections in the industry and severing their worth at the core. This was the ultimate blow. A prime example was Mel Gibson.
This was one of the reasons why independent actors struggled in their career advancement.
Most of them lacked agents, let alone assistants and managers. They had to fight for their own interests, speak up for themselves. Only as a last resort could an actor's guild be their support. Inadvertently, they could offend, whether it be a casting director, a producer, or a production assistant—landmines lurked everywhere.
In this instance at Sundance, the direct confrontation between Renly and the Weinstein brothers didn't devolve into an unsightly scene, yet Andy had gleaned whispers of the rumors. The Weinsteins weren't in good spirits, understandably, having missed out on "Like Crazy".
Everyone understood this was ordinary competition; Renly couldn't be blamed. Harvey was at fault for underestimating the clout of Focal Pictures before they clinched the Sundance Jury Prize for "Like Crazy". But, whether Harvey would place the blame on Renly wasn't something anyone else could control.
Moreover, Andy was aware that Renly held no interest in these meticulous details.
If he weren't truly swamped, Andy wouldn't have allowed Renly to negotiate in person. Now that the die was cast, Andy found himself slightly regretful.
"I can't argue with that," Renly softly closed his jaw and concurred frankly.
So direct was his response that Andy paused slightly, his smile lingering in his eyes. Conversations with Renly always flowed so effortlessly, forming a solid foundation for their collaboration. A positive development indeed.
"Not only that, but I'm also in the process of selecting your next project," Andy continued smoothly. "I'll be conducting an initial round of project screenings. However, before scripts or projects reach you, if a manager could delve into the background details, perhaps even read through the entire script, and then present it to you, it would greatly alleviate your workload."
Reading a script wasn't a simple affair. A script comprised at least ninety pages, now commonly around a hundred and twenty, akin to a master's thesis. Thoroughly reviewing the entire script, understanding the characters, and even familiarizing oneself with project preparations—this wasn't something that could be done in three to five days.
And this was just the preliminary reading.
Top-tier actors like Tom Hanks might simultaneously have fifteen projects in the works, their schedule stretching five years into the future. They wouldn't have the time to read each potential collaboration personally; their managers had to take over.
Of course, Renly still fell under the category of newcomers, scripts knocking on his door weren't as numerous, and even without a manager, chaos was avoidable.
However, Renly's situation was unique. Andy had to sift through numerous projects in various stages of preparation, as well as independent projects that remained undiscovered, all to find the right fit for Renly. If Renly had to review every single project, efficiency would plummet. That was why Andy thought of managers.
Renly nodded with a smile, refraining from commenting much on this.
As a reincarnated individual, he didn't need to thoroughly read every script—that was his biggest advantage. Conversely, if filtered by a manager, it might even lead to overlooking some noteworthy niche scripts.
"All this talk is a bit premature now; I haven't sorted out next month's rent yet," Renly's jest caused Andy to chuckle involuntarily. His response followed, "Don't worry, I can lend you a loan; won't let you end up on the streets."
Since "Fast 5" hadn't premiered yet, Renly was still relying on his reserves. But the issue lay in the fact that his compensation for his last three works had been significantly low. Hiring a manager and an assistant already stretched Renly's finances; the remaining compensation had to be invested personally to solidify the future.
"I just wanted to remind you, if you have suitable candidates around you, feel free to inform me directly. If not, I'll keep an eye out," Andy summed up simply.
Given the unique nature of managers, many artists had family members as their managers, siblings, parents, or even close friends—ideal choices.
However, though these familiar individuals could be trusted, their professionalism might be questionable. Hence, numerous artists preferred hiring professional managers to handle their careers.
Renly, however, merely shrugged, offering minimal commentary.
When he initially chose Andy as his manager, he had displayed no urgency; now, in the case of selecting a manager, his stance remained unchanged, preferring to wait for a good fit rather than rush into it.
Andy didn't continue to dwell on this topic. "How have you been lately?" he asked. Immediately realizing his phrasing was too broad, he added, "I mean, it's been over two months since "Fast 5" wrapped up. Are you planning to take more time off, or are you already eager to dive into new work?"
In the past six months, Renly had successively filmed "Buried", "Like Crazy", and "Fast 5", working relentlessly without room to catch his breath. His performance had reached its pinnacle; even the action scenes in commercial films had given him a true taste of theatrical ecstasy.
Initially, he thought he might feel wearied. After the novelty of standing in front of the camera, stepping onto the stage, and receiving acclaim faded, his desire for performance would find some satisfaction, gradually calming down. Initially, he thought he might become fatigued. Following a state of heightened tension, he would suddenly relax, then tense up again. The energy and effort expended were unimaginable.
But he hadn't.
Having glimpsed the weight and intricacy of college public relations, he realized he still loved performing. Compared to the intricacies and maneuverings of those mingling at events, what still tugged at his soul was the act of performing on stage.
Not only did he not grow weary, not only did he not feel tired, but he felt a more urgent need to immerse himself in roles than ever before, focusing his heart and soul on delving into acting.
He knew that if he were to re-enact "Buried" or "Like Crazy" now, his touch and understanding would differ. That was the allure of acting—every little aspect of life became a part of the performance, just as every fleeting moment in life became a part of the soul.
However, Renly wasn't the rookie he used to be. Finding a suitable, right, and outstanding project required some luck, just like finding "Buried" at SAG back then. Haste makes waste; he needed more patience.
Especially now, during the bustling awards season, over half of the film industry's professionals congregated in Los Angeles, striving for the coveted golden statuette. During this period, seeking new acting opportunities became even more challenging.
"I'm waiting," Renly revealed a faint smile, neither hurried nor agitated, neither flustered nor lax. "Waiting for an entirely new project that can awaken my impulse to perform. I'm prepared to plunge back into work, but until inspiration strikes, I'll thoroughly enjoy my vacation. To be honest, I'm seriously considering a skiing trip to Canada."
Andy chuckled, slightly speechless. "Just make sure you're back before the Oscars." With a nod of agreement, they found themselves discussing a skiing vacation during the most crucial juncture of awards season, a mix of amusement and exasperation. "As for new film projects, I've been searching constantly. When a suitable opportunity arises, I'll inform Nathan promptly."
Renly rose from his seat, heading to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water. He casually inquired, "Do you need anything to drink?"
"I've already taken care of it myself." Andy pointed to the cola in front of him, somewhat bemused by Renly's quick reflexes.
"A coke in your house?" Renly exclaimed, surprised. This made Andy chuckle, a mix of amusement and irony. "You didn't just come all the way here today to discuss a manager, did you?"
The manager wasn't truly pressing. Even if Andy intended to remind Renly, a simple phone call would suffice.
Dull in some aspects, astute in others. Andy picked up the cola, took a sip, and watched as Renly returned with a glass of tap water. "I wanted to discuss the upcoming project selection plan with you."
This, after all, was the crux of the matter.