From Flower Vase to Film Emperor in Hollywood

The scenes in my mind were vivid, brought to life by rhythm and music, effortlessly materializing—inspiration was erupting in full force.

Previously, Mangold had always felt that the ending of the script lacked a certain spark.

In fact, from any perspective, ending the film with such a scene, marking a comma in Johnny Cash's magnificent life, would be appropriate; but Mangold always felt something was missing.

Unfortunately, that strange feeling never found a clear outlet, making it impossible to start, and Mangold didn't know how to begin revising.

But now, the answer had arrived—a circle, a response, whether it's a flashback or a flash-forward, the entire story ends in a closed loop, and a complete and vivid arc is completed on Johnny Cash, and all the problems are solved.

It’s simply perfect.

Although the cost is changing the structure of the entire film, such a change is a good thing; instead, the film becomes complete.

An unspeakable passion surged in his chest, burning fiercely.

Mangold had completely forgotten the mess in front of him, opened his arms, and gave Anson a solid hug, unable to hide the joy and excitement in his heart.

"God, Anson, has anyone ever told you that you're a genius? A natural actor!"

An actor with such energy being labeled a pretty face is not just prejudice, it can be said to be a loss for Hollywood.

Anson grinned, "No, no one has."

Mangold said grandly, "Then I'm saying it now, you are a genius."

"Like Angelina Jolie, a true genius who has been misunderstood and ignored. Believe me, people will eventually realize their narrow-mindedness and stupidity."

After speaking, Mangold didn't wait for a response, staggered to his feet, and strode towards the staff gathered outside.

"We need to add a scene, Anson's monologue."

"Are you… sure?"

Lucas preemptively tried to hide his embarrassment, unable to conceal his worry and nervousness.

"Anson, I think you need to rest, you… need a doctor's help."

Although Mangold was ecstatic, and the film seemed to be receiving great news, Lucas couldn't be happy; still worried, his heart was still filled with apprehension.

Anson's appearance, drenched in sweat, scarred, and calling for help, was still vivid in his mind; Lucas couldn't pretend that nothing had happened.

His words were difficult and hesitant, careful and cautious—he hesitated, unclear.

Anson looked at Lucas like this, but only felt heartache, because he knew that such a performance meant caring; it was precisely because he cared that he had a weakness.

Anson showed a faint smile, "What, are you worried that I'll see Jack again?"

A sentence made Lucas shut his mouth tightly, unable to hide the panic in his eyes.

Suddenly, he held his breath, his pupils and lips trembling slightly.

There was a bit of bitterness in Anson's smile. He looked into Lucas's eyes, took a light breath, thought seriously, and organized his words.

"Lucas, I, I just saw Jack; and nine-year-old Anson Wood."

A kind of fear instantly erupted in Lucas's eyes, strangling his throat.

"We completed the farewell."

"I was thinking, maybe Jack is me, and nine-year-old Anson Wood never disappeared; maybe I still remember, those memories never disappeared, they… are just hidden in the corner of my soul, continuing to hurt me."

"So, eventually, one day, I need to face them, I need to reconcile with them, say goodbye to them, this is the only way to continue living."

"Just like Johnny Cash."

Lucas's heart was gripped tightly by fear, almost unable to breathe. He only heard his own voice, the slight trembling leaking the panic in his heart, "Are you… sure?"

"I mean, goodbye."

Anson chuckled, "No, not sure."

Lucas was stunned.

Anson looked at Lucas like this, especially happy, and laughed heartily, which made Lucas show a bit of helplessness in his eyes, slightly sour—he still hoped for Anson to be like this.

Anson, "I can't guarantee it."

"They've disappeared now, we've said goodbye, but I'm not sure when they'll appear again, Lucas, what do you think, I can't guarantee it."

"But now, I can distinguish between illusion and reality, I won't continue to be trapped in the illusion and unable to extricate myself; at the same time, I may need some help."

"I need you to be by my side, so that I can grasp the focus of reality."

"Lucas, you will always be there, right? And Mom and Dad?"

Lucas covered his face in embarrassment, his heart almost tearing apart.

"I'm sorry, Anson, all of this is my fault…"

But this time, Anson interrupted Lucas, "No, this is no one's fault, oh, sorry, I was wrong, this is the fault of those criminals. I hope they rot in prison, and suffer pain every day."

Lucas looked at Anson with a helpless expression, not knowing whether to laugh or cry.

Anson blinked, "I'm serious, I'm just a petty person who holds grudges, this is the biggest difference between me and Johnny."

Lucas finally chuckled.

Anson, "I can be sure that this is not your fault, because I need my brother."

"Although I know all of this is absurd, Jack is clearly real, but why is he an illusion, no one but me can see him; but things just happened like this, like a joke."

"So, I need help, I need you to help me return to reality."

"Lucas, you and Mom and Dad are the same, you will always be there, right?"

Anson repeated the question again, this was the only way he could distinguish between illusion and reality, he needed them, this was his weakness and his heart.

Lucas looked at Anson quietly, unexpectedly, his eyes were wet, he nodded embarrassedly, "Of course." Then he nodded heavily again, "Of course!"

Anson clenched his fist, "Oh yeah," looking at Lucas, "Sorry, you guys probably won't be able to get rid of this burden in your life, are you mentally prepared?"

Lucas couldn't help but laugh through his tears, annoyed and irritable, "Anson Wood, now is not the time to joke, okay? You bastard!"

Anson raised his hands, making a gesture of surrender with an innocent look.

Lucas still couldn't do anything about Anson, and finally let out a long breath, "…So, they disappeared, you can't see them now?"

Anson nodded, "Yeah, at least that's how it is now."

This time, Anson didn't continue joking.

"I said goodbye to them."

"To some extent, they are me, they become a part of me, I need to face those memories, those darkness, this is the only way."

"By the way, the memories of the kidnapping, they all came back."

In a word, Lucas's face instantly turned pale, without any blood.