Losers
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Westwood's words instantly hushed the room, rendering it as quiet as a midnight hospital morgue, a space charged with tension as if a room with a gas leak.
"As Tony mentioned earlier, perhaps we can have another director step in. Let Alan Smithee, a seasoned director, take the reins. He's handled situations like this before."
The atmosphere in the room, laden with gloom, seemed to trigger an urge in the production manager, Michael Rich, to crack a joke and lighten the mood. However, a glance from the producer swiftly conveyed that humor wasn't the need of the hour.
"Director Alan Smithee doesn't exist. Mr. Rich, if you intend to have him direct, you'd better approach him for a paycheck directly, not me"
Alan Smithee, the specialist in resolving conflicts between Hollywood producers and directors. The FBI's quest to locate this man has been in vain. Turning to him for payment is akin to chasing a mirage in the desert.
Reprimanded by the producer for attempting humor, Michael withdrew into silence. As a scriptwriter, he was but a junior figure amongst the crew's principal contributors. His hesitance to speak was understandable. However, what puzzled Westwood was the silence of everyone else in the room.
"Richard, as the assistant director, what's your take on this?"
When no one volunteered their thoughts, Westwood had to call upon someone, and the most experienced figure in the crew, Richard, was the obvious choice.
"Is there no possibility of bringing in another director?"
It was apparent that Richard had discerned Westwood's intention to pass on the directing role, yet he feigned ignorance.
"From a script perspective, directing this film isn't exceptionally challenging, and our pre-production work is nearly complete. If the finances align, we should be able to secure another director."
"The crux of the matter is funding."
Westwood offered a wry smile.
"All of you have been through the pre-production phase, so you know the crew's budget is barely sufficient. If Alan hadn't disappeared, he might have contributed through his contacts. However, now that he's vanished, even securing the remaining budget is uncertain. This puts immense strain on our financial resources. Rehiring a director, even if it's for a portion of the budget, will push us over the edge. Don't forget, our leading lady has also disappeared, so we need to allocate some funds for finding a new one."
Having laid bare these challenges, Westwood continued,
"The reason I gathered everyone here today was to hope that someone would step forward to assume the role of director. Of course, as I mentioned earlier, there's no room for increasing salaries. It's not that I'm unwilling, but our financial situation is truly dire. However, I can offer a share of the box office earnings after the release. Originally, a film like this wouldn't secure a share without a renowned director, but our situation is critical. So, who's willing to take the helm?"
With these words, Westwood cast a hopeful gaze upon Richard, the most experienced assistant director in the crew. This time, Richard didn't feign ignorance.
"I can't do it."
His response was succinct.
"It's not a matter of seniority or ability. Ever since my divorce, I've lost the desire to direct. If I had to choose between directing a film and regaining custody of my child, I'd choose the latter. Filmmaking is just a job for me now, and directing is more than a job."
"This..."
Richard's answer was unexpected for Westwood, who let out a sigh.
"I had some words in mind to persuade you, but now..."
Westwood turned to the cinematographer, Addison Young. Many directors have their roots in cinematography, and Addison, as the most knowledgeable person regarding the film, was the only alternative to the most experienced Richard. However, Addison shook his head.
"I can't either."
"Why?"
"Because..."
Addison took a drag from his cigarette, exhaling a smoke ring before explaining further.
"Have any of you seen James Cameron's first movie?"
"Cameron's first film?"
Everyone was taken aback by this unexpected question.
"Is it 'Piranha 2'? I've seen it."
It was Christian who responded. Thanks to the omnipresent internet and the regrettable state of copyright in later generations in China, he had watched numerous films, including Cameron's early work.
"Was it any good?"
"Well, it was, to put it lightly, unsatisfactory."
"Yes, unsatisfactory."
Addison pinched his cigarette, appearing lost in thought.
"That movie was shot in Italy. Cameron was a novice director back then. His experience at the time was beyond unsatisfactory; it was a nightmare. No one in the crew, from the actors to the production team, respected him. The producer not only denied him editing rights but also dismissed his opinions. I was the cinematographer on that film."
"What?"
Christian was surprised by Addison's revelation. He hadn't expected that the crew, seemingly composed of stragglers and misfits, would have worked with a "great" like Cameron. It was like finding gold amid the sand.
"So, are you concerned that taking on the director's role might lead to a situation like Cameron's?"
Unlike Christian, who had a somewhat wandering mind, producer Westwood was more focused on why Addison, the cinematographer, was reluctant to become the director. Hearing Addison's words, he began to grasp the underlying issue.
"Please don't worry about those concerns. I understand the importance of preserving the director's authority on the set, even though I've failed as a producer," Westwood assured.
"No, you don't understand"
Suddenly, Addison, who had been mostly silent, grew agitated and interrupted Westwood.
"I'm not bargaining with you. I've witnessed Cameron being ignored by the entire crew. I know how he resorted to editing his film clandestinely. But I'm not worried about any of that. Do you know? After we wrapped up filming, he gathered the entire crew and, in front of everyone, declared that we could disrespect him and refuse to work overtime. However, in the end, he would become a big success, and we..."
He gasped for breath, and his words seemed like barbed arrows piercing a wound, causing him visible discomfort each time he spoke.
"We would amount to nothing—absolutely nothing"
"This..."
As a time traveler, Christian was also a fan of Cameron, but he knew the story. From Cameron's perspective, it was a tale of grit and inspiration, but for those who had initially disregarded the fledgling Cameron but now regretted their lack of support, what did it feel like? It was akin to celebrating a top-ten World Cup goal; for the scorer, it was a moment of glory, but how did the defenders and goalkeepers in the background feel?
Addison, who seemed to have expended all his energy with that sentence, slumped into his chair. Christian was left speechless for a moment.
"Do you know? We all laughed when we heard what he said. To us at the time, it was no different from the villain's clichéd line 'I will be back.' It was inconsequential. However, ten years later, he did come back. Do you know? When I saw the liquid metal transformation of the T-1000 in 'Terminator 2,' I was trembling all over. It wasn't excitement for us filmmakers, but fear, and despair. Cameron truly became a success, but what about me? I fear that, just as he predicted, I'll end up as nothing"
Addison's quiet admission left everyone in the room speechless, and it was as if any sound would be a sacrilege.
"In reality, I've accomplished very little over the past ten years. While I've worked on a few films and now have some credentials as a cinematographer, I always...every time I see Cameron's achievements, I remember his words. It's like wearing Dr. Hannibal's mask with my mouth stitched shut. I'm afraid to speak at all. Cameron's words have been a curse for me, and now I can't bear the pressure of being a director."
"Is this another corpse on the road to our dreams?"
As he looked at Addison, whose eyes seemed to glisten with tears, Christian couldn't help but sigh. In this crew, how many people were not struggling? Richard's family had fallen apart, and his career had lost its passion. Addison wasn't the only one; how many others in departments like makeup and special effects had struggled? Director Alan might have assembled a crew of perceived failures to prevent any challenge to his authority. These disgruntled "losers" likely cursed him behind his back daily, but when he disappeared, the entire crew scattered like a planetary system without its sun, teetering on the brink of collapse.
How absurd.
But right now, amidst this group of apparent "losers," Christian's heart was racing.
Would you dare to give it a shot?
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