"…I heard you're negotiating with Anson Wood to play Johnny Cash?"
Michael McCusker pushed open the conference room door, casually making conversation as though it were small talk.
James Mangold's eyes lit up, a smile spreading across his face. "Yes. He's truly an outstanding actor, isn't he? We all believe he's perfect to play Johnny—"
Before he could finish, McCusker interrupted. "I don't think that's a good idea."
Mangold's smile froze. He turned to Kitcher, who was standing beside him. The two were about to sit but now hesitated, caught off guard.
Was this why Sony-Columbia had summoned them to this meeting today?
Mangold's smile stiffened but didn't falter. "To be honest, that's what we initially thought too. Could that Spider-Man kid really take on such a heavy role?"
Mangold tried to diffuse the tension with a joke, reminding McCusker that Anson was currently collaborating with Sony-Columbia on Spider-Man. He also planned to pivot the conversation back on track.
But he never got the chance. McCusker interrupted again.
"I preferred your original idea. Stick with it."
The atmosphere grew heavy.
Both Mangold and Kitcher quickly realized that McCusker wasn't joking.
But why? Could the rumors be true? Was there internal resistance against Anson within Sony-Columbia?
McCusker cursed silently.
When corporate "whales" fought, it was the "small fry" like him who had to clean up the mess. Now, he was forced to play the bad guy, delivering a rejection that wasn't even his decision—offending Anson in the process.
Dammit!
Everyone had seen how the power struggle between Sony-Columbia and Anson had turned out. Even a shrewd veteran like Michael Lynton had suffered a quiet defeat, let alone someone like McCusker, stuck in the middle.
But what choice did he have?
Taking a deep breath, McCusker forced a pleasant smile.
"Believe me, I know how talented Anson is. We still believe he's the perfect choice for Peter Parker and that he's doing a fantastic job. We're all eagerly awaiting the movie's release."
"But even great actors have their limits."
"We don't think someone as significant as Johnny Cash should be played by him. Maybe he can strike a pose and make girls swoon with his sparkling blue eyes, but conveying the hardship and pain Johnny endured? That's another matter."
"Don't you think?"
McCusker turned to Kitcher, completely ignoring Mangold.
Kitcher hesitated, almost nodding before catching himself.
"We initially thought the same," Kitcher managed, "but after meeting with Anson, we changed our minds."
McCusker raised an eyebrow, surprised by Kitcher's response.
"Besides…" Kitcher added, "Anson was Johnny's personal choice for the role before he passed."
McCusker silently cursed again but kept his expression neutral. "Johnny had his perspective, sure. But what he saw and what the audience wants might not align."
"At Sony-Columbia, our stance is clear: you need someone who embodies the audience's vision of Johnny Cash—older, with more gravitas and proven acting chops. After all, this film is aiming for awards season."
"Otherwise, we may need to reconsider our investment."
"Take some time to think about it."
The subtext couldn't be clearer:
No Anson.
Every word was a deliberate strike against Anson.
From start to finish, Mangold and Kitcher were barely given room to argue. It wasn't so much a meeting as it was a one-sided announcement.
Damn it! Damn, damn, damn!
Mangold wanted to argue, but what could he say?
For ten years, Walk the Line had struggled through countless setbacks. Even with Mangold on board, two years had passed without progress. Convincing Sony-Columbia to back the project had felt like a breakthrough, and choosing Anson seemed like a strategic move to win favor.
But now it had backfired spectacularly.
What could they do now?
Mangold wanted to stand his ground and insist on Anson. If Sony-Columbia refused, they could walk away and find another partner.
But the harsh reality crushed his resolve.
---
After leaving the meeting, Mangold and Kitcher sat silently in their car in the parking lot, chain-smoking.
The weight of it all pressed down on them.
Mangold sighed heavily. "Looks like the rumors are true. The power struggle at Sony-Columbia is real, and the faction opposing Anson has the upper hand. It's affecting Spider-Man and now us too."
"Maybe we should just drop Anson?"
Before Mangold could finish, Kitcher shook his head. "No."
Mangold was surprised. He hadn't thought Kitcher was that invested in Anson.
Taking a deep breath, Kitcher explained, "Since Johnny passed, we've been completely at the mercy of others. Aside from the adaptation rights, we have nothing."
"If we cave today and replace the lead actor, what's next? Tomorrow they'll demand script changes. The day after, they'll replace the producers, maybe even the director. We'll be sidelined completely."
"You know how Hollywood works, don't you?"
Mangold was at a loss for words.
"But what can we do?" he asked.
Kitcher had no answer either.
After ten years of struggle, they were still stuck in the same place.
The overwhelming sense of powerlessness threatened to consume them.
They sat there in the car, letting the cigarette smoke envelop them, until a phone call broke the silence.
Mangold checked the caller ID: "Anson's agent."
Kitcher buried his face in his hands, scrubbing at it in frustration. At this moment, he fully understood why ostriches buried their heads in the sand—sometimes, avoidance didn't seem so bad.
But Mangold couldn't dodge this. Taking a deep breath, he answered the call.
"Hey, Edgar."
"Good morning, director!" Edgar's voice was cheerful, oblivious to Sony-Columbia's dagger.
"Good news: Anson's read the script and is thrilled. He's honored to play Johnny Cash and can't wait to join the team."
"So, when can we meet to finalize the contract?"
Mangold felt the weight in his chest grow heavier.
(End of Chapter)