"Sir, you haven't introduced yourself yet."
Upon hearing these words, it took a moment for Carl's brain to catch up, and then he chuckled, nodding, "Carl Lund, an obscure and down-and-out writer from New York."
"Renly Hall, an actor."
Carl hesitated for a moment, then quickly grasped the situation. Those self-deprecating embellishments, those mocking descriptions, actually reflected the greed and desire deep within. Only those who yearn for fame would emphasize being 'obscure'; only those who aspire for success would highlight being 'down-and-out'. Stripping away those elaborate modifiers, the original and authentic essence emerged – the return to simplicity.
"Carl Lund, a writer."
Carl reintroduced himself, this straightforward and candid attitude surprising Renly. There was no attack in his demeanor, no malice, just a simple introduction. Since returning from Sundance, his mindset had gradually changed, and he unconsciously adopted this way of expression.
However, Carl's demeanor earned Renly's respect.
"I'm pleased to meet you, Mr. Lund."
Renly carefully searched his memory, unable to recall any writer or playwright named Carl Lund.
Of course, there were countless screenwriters in Hollywood. Not to mention the completely unknown ones, even considering those with some reputation, there were thousands. Renly couldn't possibly remember every name. But judging from the current situation, the most likely explanation was that this wasn't a movie; it was a play. A Broadway play.
In his previous life, Renly had almost no research on theater, his mind naturally void of such knowledge. In this life, he had spent some time in London's West End and on Broadway, but it had been too brief, and he knew only a handful of playwrights.
Judging from Carl's conversation and mannerisms, whether it was Edgar Allan Poe or his way of expression, a strong literary air pervaded, slightly incongruent with the film style, yet in perfect harmony with the essence of Broadway.
"So, the gentleman from earlier?"
Renly didn't say much, leaving it at that. However, Carl immediately responded, "That's Tony, Tony Kaye, the director." Carl explained briefly, "He's an oddball, always out of sync in his behavior. Even after knowing him for several years, I'm still not quite used to it. After Woody read our script, he thought you were the perfect fit, so he brought us here... The other person is Woody Allen, you know him?"
"I'm someone who enjoys reading newspapers," Renly's response made Carl smile involuntarily.
"That's how it is. After hearing Woody's introduction, both Tony and I were very curious about you. But after meeting you..." Carl's gaze once again appraised Renly from top to bottom. That unique quality disappeared once more, replaced by calmness. Carl couldn't help but shake his head gently. "It's a bit different from what we imagined. But, in any case, we were impolite just now."
With this, everything fell into place. All the question marks connected.
Renly couldn't help but smile. However, just as he said, artists tended to have quirks to varying degrees and often didn't quite fit in with their surroundings. He was no stranger to this.
"Why me?" A glint of interest shimmered in Renly's eyes. Not in response to the project Carl mentioned, but in response to Carl's conviction. Their brief exchange earlier lacked depth, only touching the surface. So, what was Carl basing his judgment on? "Believe me, I look younger than my appearance suggests."
This slightly boastful jest lightened the atmosphere a bit. Carl retorted, "So, you lack confidence in yourself?"
Renly's shoulder lifted imperceptibly, the faint curve of his lips exuding youthful recklessness and nonchalance. "Unless the character isn't set in their early twenties."
Contrary to expectations, this reply brought a hint of a smile to Carl's eyes. "In my concept, this character is between thirty and thirty-five. If slightly younger, I imagine you might need some stubble. I'm not sure, that's the makeup artist's job. Clearly, I'm not the best person to ask."
This reminded Renly of Andy's visit earlier this afternoon.
Excellent scripts often set the age of the male lead at forty or above. Young characters in scripts were mostly bound by topics like youth, growth, love, and such. Scripts and characters like "Buried" or "Like Crazy" that were suitable and exceptional were truly few. But what about theater?
The hierarchy of theater was much more stringent than that of film. In Hollywood, countless miracles like the overnight success of "Twilight" occurred. Yet in London's West End and on Broadway, one had to persistently hone their skills, accumulate experience step by step, much like a hardworking wife becoming a seasoned one. There were no shortcuts.
However, looking at it from another perspective, theater and film differed. Due to the distance of the audience and the heavy makeup, the influence of age was weakened. Moreover, theater tested the solid foundation of performance, unrelated to age or experience, more related to honing skills.
This directly led to the result that theater roles were richer and more diverse, with age choices being more varied. Even many theater scripts focused on young characters.
After all, London's West End and Broadway were both declining, except for those classic old scripts. A script being performed for three quarters was already quite rare. When writers created, they increasingly sought innovation and change. So, the focus remained on suitable scripts and roles.
"So, are you interested?" Carl looked at Renly with intense eyes and continued to inquire, "If you don't mind, we can sit down at the booth over there, have an in-depth conversation, get to know the script, understand the character, and you can exchange thoughts with Tony."
Although he was asking for Renly's opinion, the focused gaze clearly implied: I don't accept rejection as an answer.
This demeanor, juxtaposed with the scruffy appearance of a beggar, was truly incongruous. Renly finished off his beer with a tilt of his head, straightforwardly stating, "Why not?"
Carl stood up and took the lead, guiding Renly to booth number seven. Without waiting for Tony to speak, Carl proceeded with a formal introduction.
The first meeting lacked this groundwork, leading to conflicts. Tony was like that, as was Woody.
This time, it was much better.
After some small talk, Tony wasted no time in asking, "What do you think?" These seemingly random words, characteristic of his style, were both amusing and perplexing, leaving one unsure whether he was addressing Carl or Renly.
However, before Renly could guess, Carl answered aloud, "It's him. He's the perfect choice."
A glint of excitement flickered in Tony's eyes, and he showed no restraint in displaying his enthusiasm. He eagerly continued, "This is a highly distinctive role, and it's a character with an incredibly challenging difficulty level. First, he's a child who needs to take care of his grandfather suffering from Alzheimer's. He tries to help him, but he can't alleviate the worsening condition."
"Secondly, he's a teacher who needs to look after students who might have gone astray or are already on the wrong path. He wants to help them, but it's not an easy task." Tony was genuinely thrilled, speaking rapidly, not caring whether Renly could follow or not. Without any preamble, he dove straight into the topic, releasing a massive torrent of information that left one puzzled.
Renly didn't interrupt Tony, listening carefully. Amidst these fragmented pieces of information, he pieced together an image of the character.
It was an intriguing process. In his previous three works, he had built, analyzed, and extended characters all by himself. Beyond the script, he expanded the entire world of the character.
However, now Tony had jumped ahead, describing the character to Renly with words before he even understood the story's outline. This went beyond Carl's earlier description, delving more deeply and thoroughly, and also becoming more specific. Combined with Carl's outline and their conversation, the image was becoming vivid in his mind.
"Furthermore, he's a man who could become a partner for another woman or even a father to another child. He needs to care for others, but clearly, he's struggling to care for himself."
Tony was completely immersed in his own world, his words flowing ceaselessly, spittle flying, passionate and fervent. His enthusiasm was even a bit unsettling.
Carl and Woody sitting beside him didn't say a word. Unknowingly, the two of them had faded into the background, leaving seemingly only Tony. Of course, there was also Renly, who was attentively listening.
"On the whole, he's a restrained and helpless individual. Beneath the calm surface, he conceals countless emotions and secrets. He attempts to redeem others, but he's powerless. Often, he must achieve self-redemption first. But in this process, he helplessly watches as others gradually descend into the abyss. That sense of helplessness and even despair is like drowning, as negative emotions slowly recede."
Suddenly, Tony waved his hands in the air, coming to an abrupt halt, his gaze scorching as he looked at Renly. "The focal point, the crux, lies here! What I need is not the display of the entire process, not the process of a soul's collapse, not the journey from hope to despair or from despair to hope. What I want is a state, a state of struggle."
"I know, "struggle" is a verb, but I need it to become a noun in the film, a stagnant state. I know it's difficult, but this is what the film wants to convey. Can you do it?" Tony leaned against the edge of the table, gazing fixedly at Renly, waiting for an answer. He seemed to have no intention of moving until Renly responded.
"Does this work have a title?" This was Renly's first response.
Tony broke into a broad smile, a smug glint in his eyes. He enunciated each syllable with care.
"Detachment"