In the morning, Sony Columbia reacted swiftly. They issued a statement at the first opportunity to mitigate the damage before things worsened, showcasing Michael's crisis management skills both in terms of response time and the content of the statement—earning widespread praise.
By evening, however, the situation took a sharp turn for the worse. Michael Lynton's proactive and firm stance backfired, exposing their ugliness and corruption. What was meant to calm the situation instead triggered an outpouring of negative emotions among the public—leading to a storm of criticism.
The same event sparked completely opposite reactions in the morning and by the evening.
Welcome to the 21st century, a new era of information overload, and a chaotic time when news cycles shift rapidly, catching everyone off guard.
Without an official statement, the situation might have spiraled out of control in the morning.
But at the same time, without the statement, it wouldn't have provoked the public's sensitive nerves and moral boundaries by evening, unleashing a wave of backlash.
It's difficult to say whether Michael Lynton's crisis management was good or bad.
One thing, however, was certain: Sony Columbia was under siege.
Amid the bustling rush-hour traffic in Manhattan, throngs of people continued to flood towards 550 Madison Avenue.
Endlessly.
Gradually, the Sony Columbia building became completely surrounded once again.
In the morning, over a thousand people gathered, creating a spectacular scene that became a hot topic for media outlets and forums alike.
And now?
Three thousand people, at least, and the numbers were still rising.
The usual frustration and stress of rush-hour traffic on Madison Avenue transformed today into an unusual scene of drivers casually watching the spectacle.
Literally, the area was gridlocked with a sea of people—a rare sight. As more and more people joined from all directions, the long, monotonous Monday found its outlet, with the unsuspecting Sony Columbia becoming the target of the public's frustration. Like a tide, New Yorkers swarmed towards the building.
The airwaves buzzed.
"...Midtown Manhattan traffic is completely paralyzed due to a massive protest around the Sony Columbia office building..."
"It's clear that Sony Columbia did not anticipate this; the situation has spiraled completely out of control..."
"Reports suggest New York isn't alone. The West Coast headquarters of Sony Columbia has also been surrounded by over 1,500 fans, signaling their protest with red objects..."
The radio broadcast painted a vivid picture of the scale of the events.
Initially, all attention was focused on New York, leaving Los Angeles in the shadows. But as the situation in New York took a dramatic turn, more eyes turned westward, revealing that both cities were feeling the wrath of Anson's fans.
"...Fox News has dispatched helicopters to cover the scene..."
The taxi driver stuck his head out of the window, glancing up between the skyscrapers.
The helicopters appeared, circling above 550 Madison Avenue.
From high above, the scene was even more striking—throngs of people spread out from the Sony Columbia building in all directions, easily surpassing 3,000 people.
Five thousand? Eight thousand?
All of them were waving various red objects, symbolizing their protest, creating a rolling wave of red that looked like flames engulfing the building. Even the steel and concrete structure couldn't withstand the heat for long.
Vehicles were lined up like matchboxes on the streets, unintentionally forming a blockade around Sony Columbia.
The building was isolated.
It was a grand and overwhelming sight.
When Ian Bryce, drenched in sweat, finally reached the Sony Columbia building after running four blocks, the sheer mass of people made his knees buckle.
Ian tried to squeeze through the crowd to reach the office building, which was only a short distance away.
But it was nearly impossible.
In the end, Ian gave up—after all, there wasn't much he could do.
This was a battle between Sony Columbia's board and top executives. His opinion or perspective wouldn't matter at this level of corporate interests. Even if he attended the meeting, he'd likely just be scapegoated. Thinking it over, he realized there was no need to push through.
Then, Ian spotted Laura Ziskin, equally drenched in sweat and looking flustered.
Laura glanced at Ian. "I'm stuck."
Ian laughed, enjoying her misery. "I can see that."
Laura rolled her eyes in exasperation, glanced again at Ian's relaxed expression, and gave up struggling. She simply stood there quietly.
"I think we might miss the meeting," Ian said.
Laura shrugged lightly. "I don't think they were planning to wait for us."
The entire Sony Columbia headquarters was completely surrounded, and the streets were blocked. So how were the board members supposed to arrive?
The answer: helicopters.
The headquarters had a helipad on the roof.
One by one, board members arrived, but Michael Lynton was still waiting for Laura to show up.
Even though Laura was just a producer, Michael needed support from the production team, and if necessary, he could push her out as a scapegoat.
Unfortunately, Laura never made it.
Michael maintained his calm and gentlemanly demeanor on the surface, but the row of cold sores at the corner of his mouth betrayed the truth—
He was in a tough spot.
To be precise, he was at a dead end. Sony Columbia had backed itself into a corner, and now, there seemed to be no way out.
"Sir..." The assistant appeared again.
Michael took a deep breath. "Tell the board I'll be there in three minutes."
"No, it's not the board..."
Michael looked puzzled, seeing the assistant hesitate. "At this point, what could be worse? Just say it."
The assistant winced awkwardly. "The actors have spoken."
Michael hesitated for a moment: actors? Which actors?
The assistant clarified, "Tom Hanks."
Michael's heart sank.
If Tom Hanks had spoken, that meant the floodgates were about to open, and other actors would surely follow, supporting Anson.
Didn't the assistant just say "actors"? Plural.
Michael struggled to stay composed. "What did Tom say?"
The assistant responded, "He said he supports Anson's decisions 100%."
What did that mean?
If Anson decided to walk away from the Spider-Man franchise, Tom would support him. If Anson chose to stay, Tom would support that too.
Unconditionally, 100%.
It was a sign of trust, but it also meant Tom was willing to back Anson and support actors like Heath Ledger, who had already spoken out.
Michael realized:
The tide had turned.