—Charlie Kaufman.
Tonight, with "Adaptation," Charlie has earned a nomination for Best Screenplay.
The Golden Globes do not divide their screenplay category into adapted and original, making the competition even fiercer. But because of this, winning often gives a lead in the race for the Oscars.
Half a month ago, Edgar had been inquiring about Charlie's whereabouts—
Currently busy writing the script for "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind," it was uncertain whether Charlie would attend the Golden Globes or if he was willing to leave his typewriter behind to enter the hustle and bustle of Hollywood. Would this eccentric genius participate in promotional and PR activities to boost the film's chances for the Oscars?
Edgar hoped Charlie would attend.
This way, Anson could openly seek an opportunity to meet Charlie, pitch himself, and strive for a role in "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind."
Of course, Edgar could contact Charlie's agent to arrange a meeting. However, such business negotiations are often filled with pleasantries and formalities, making it difficult to break the initial barrier to impress Charlie. After all, Anson's competition includes Nicolas Cage and Jim Carrey.
If they could get rid of the agents and the business talk and have a more relaxed and straightforward conversation, things might go more smoothly.
In theory, yes.
But.
When Edgar confirmed Charlie's attendance at the Golden Globe Awards, things became more complicated because of a subtle line—
Too obvious, and it comes off as fawning, insincere, potentially ruining the impression.
Too casual, and you fail to make a memorable impression, making it all in vain.
More importantly, in the star-studded whirlwind of an awards ceremony, how to measure the approach and start a conversation is an art.
It might be more difficult than imagined.
Carrying this mission into the event, Anson couldn't help but feel a bit nervous because he genuinely loved the script of "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind"—
For the first time.
When choosing "The Butterfly Effect," he also went through comprehensive consideration; but this time, it was different. It was purely because he liked the script that he actively chose this project.
Because of this, his emotions felt different.
Inevitably, his mind started racing with ideas.
However!
Plans can't keep up with changes.
Anson hadn't even entered the hall yet. His mind was still on the hustle and bustle of the red carpet, marveling at the incredible attention surrounding "Ocean's Twelve." Every little movement attracted reporters' notice, leaving no time to plan how to meet and talk to Charlie.
Then, Charlie Kaufman appeared right in front of him.
What now?
Anson searched his memory. When he arrived at the red carpet, he hadn't seen Charlie—
This small, frail, unremarkable bookworm was practically invisible on the red carpet, but his wild, Einstein-like curly hair stood out, easily catching the eye.
Like now, Anson noticed Charlie because of that wild hairstyle.
Even at the awards ceremony, Charlie hadn't styled his hair. Instead, he let it grow wild in the wind, unkempt and rebellious, clashing with his somewhat loose black suit and white shirt, like a hobbit accidentally stumbling into an elf kingdom.
If Anson was correct and hadn't seen Charlie on the red carpet, it meant Charlie had arrived at least twenty minutes earlier.
So, why had Charlie been standing outside? Or had he gone into the banquet hall and come back out because he didn't like the atmosphere?
It all happened so suddenly that Anson briefly panicked but quickly regained his composure.
Taking a deep breath, there was no need to be anxious. Whatever will be, will be. Staying calm and going with the flow might lead to unexpected opportunities. Being too obsessed with success could ruin the chance with his own hands.
For a twenty-year-old, it's easier said than done. But for Anson, who had lived two lives, a little anxiety wasn't an issue.
This small surprise helped Anson regain his composure. He didn't avoid it but instead approached Charlie.
But Anson didn't rush to greet him. Instead, he followed Charlie's gaze—
Nothing there.
More precisely, there was a frosted glass.
Through the frosted glass, one could see the hustle and bustle of the hotel lobby, bustling with the yearly Golden Globe Awards.
Charlie might have been observing those familiar and unfamiliar faces, gathering material for his writing.
Soon, Anson dismissed that idea. Charlie's screenplays were never about groups or strangers. They were always about himself.
In other words, introspection.
Glass? Mirror?
Then Anson noticed that the frosted glass reflected blurry images, including his own reflection and the elevator behind him.
After glancing at the elevator, Anson turned back to notice Charlie's blurred reflection in the glass. His scattered focus was slowly coming together, falling on his reflection.
"Are you looking for something?" Charlie asked.
Anson was momentarily stunned. He didn't hide his embarrassment and answered honestly, "What you're observing."
Charlie: …
Anson: "You've been standing here for a while. I thought maybe you saw some secret and were worried about getting silenced."
Charlie: …
Anson didn't feel embarrassed this time. He could see the speechless expression in Charlie's eyes. Such a plot was beneath Charlie's writing. "Hey, we're in Hollywood. When it comes to dramatic tension, this is the most inclusive place. Clichéd as it may be, that doesn't mean it's not exciting."
Charlie slightly raised his chin, "You're right. Besides, you're not a screenwriter."
Anson tilted his head, "Is that a jab?"
Charlie: "No, it's a fact."
For once, Anson was left speechless, his smile gently lifting at the corners of his mouth.
Charlie noticed it, even though the frosted glass reflection was not clear. But he was focused enough.
Finally, Charlie turned to Anson, his face showing no particular expression, just a hint of awkwardness. "Sorry, I got distracted."
Anson blinked, "So you were just distracted, standing here? Is this what all screenwriters do, or is it just you?"
Charlie actually gave it some serious thought. "I guess not all screenwriters do this, but I doubt I'm the only one."
Another joke failed.
Anson shrugged, "Oh, I see."
Charlie noticed, "Sorry, I'm a bit absent-minded today." After a brief pause, he added, "This morning, a neighbor interrupted my thoughts. He told me he's been haunted by the same recurring dream. It bothered me all day, replaying that dream in my mind."
"Oh," Anson responded—
Without any emotion.
Charlie looked at Anson, completely serious, "It's true."
Anson: "Even though I'm not a screenwriter, I can tell this is nonsense. Did you dream, or do you want us to pretend this was your neighbor, Mr. C's dream?"
Charlie remained silent, quietly staring at Anson for a moment before his expression finally cracked.
"Alright, I've been troubled for two whole weeks."