Echoes of a Family (1)
Robert Benton, the director of Echoes of a Family, had once offered a skeptical assessment of the project before filming began.
And once filming wrapped, his evaluation did a complete 180.
"We've hit the absolute jackpot."
Late October 1998. In the midst of editing Echoes of a Family, Tom Cruise, the film's producer, grinned from ear to ear as he replied to the director.
"Haha, it was always bound to hit. All you had to do was pull the lever, and 777... Boom!"
"I don't think the public sees it that way, though."
"Well, I beg to differ."
"How so?"
"The public has trusted Sion Lee from the start. The real problem is... the people holding the pens."
"Ah... true enough."
The media was always prone to that sort of behavior, but lately, their attacks on Sion Lee bordered on outright fabrication. They pointed out his lack of acting skills, claiming he hadn't appeared in any artistically significant works except for the indie film Swing in Chicago. They dragged up his past image, whispering about non-existent scandals as if they were absolute facts, tearing him down at every turn.
"It's all because Sion brings in the cash."
"I'll give you that. He is definitely a massive star."
"How was the shoot? I know it's a bit late to ask, but I'd love to hear some specifics."
"Hmm... how should I put it?" Robert pondered for a moment before carefully articulating his thoughts. "It felt like watching Jack Nicholson dance the tango stark naked."
"Wow..." Tom thought to himself that they must have made a film powerful enough to completely redefine a man's life.
"And Sion Lee turned into a little kid, throwing a tantrum for candy."
"Oh..." Well, that... surely had its own market. But why on earth did he have to use those specific metaphors?
"So, to summarize the movie: a man's life." The question mark floating over Tom's head instantly transformed into an exclamation point. "That's going to be absolutely killer."
Then came the first week of November. The rough cut of the film was ready, and an internal screening was held for key stakeholders. Cruise & Wagner Productions had already practically guaranteed that this film would elevate the company's prestige to a whole new level.
Because of this, they planned to host screenings for Golden Globe and Academy members at the end of the year. In fact, the money poured into this campaign would likely exceed the film's actual production budget. This was the process known as the "Oscar campaign" or the "Oscar race"—the standard procedure for any film aiming for Academy gold.
Since they were about to stand at the starting line of that very race, the quality of the finished film was of paramount importance.
"..." For the first time in a very long while—not since his wife had told him, "Don't go flying today, let's stay together"—the trademark smile had completely vanished from Tom Cruise's face.
Amidst the palpable tension in the room, the movie finally began. The clatter of a typewriter echoed. *Clack, clack.* The screen showed an elderly man with a hunched back, wearing glasses. It was Jack Nicholson.
His hair was stark white. It was the polar opposite of his appearance in As Good as It Gets, the film that had just won him the Academy Award for Best Actor. If the Jack of that film felt like a man standing at the very end of middle age, the Jack of this film felt like someone who had firmly stepped into the twilight of old age.
His mere presence, his gestures, and the look in his eyes perfectly conveyed the dry, cold atmosphere of the film. It's good. Already.
While movies often transport audiences to fantastical worlds far removed from their daily lives, they can also package mundane, everyday events into something magical. The film's opening sequence beautifully highlighted the intricate details of each scene. The rhythmic clatter of the typewriter felt almost like a musical performance.
After typing for a while, the old man checks the time and heads outside. He climbs into a battered sedan and drives to a nearby grocery store. A local billboard naturally slips into the frame, establishing the setting as Duluth...
[Oh, Bob. Are you only buying canned soup again today? You'll ruin your stomach.]
Mina, the grocery store cashier played by Susan Hopkins—a rising young supporting actress in Hollywood—strikes up a conversation.
[Don't worry about it. I'm only living because I can't seem to die anyway.]
[Don't say things like that. Dan would be heartbroken.]
It was a scene rich in the cozy detail of a small town where everyone knows everyone. At the same time, the camera lingered on a dusty old bass guitar hanging on the wall behind Mina, subtly laying down foreshadowing for what was to come.
[...Humph.] Grunting, Bob finishes paying and leaves the store. The scene transitions naturally, introducing his son, Dan.
A small studio. An analog console fills the screen. Dan, hunched over in a posture identical to his father's, is hard at work with a single headphone cupped over one ear.
For a while, he repeatedly spins and stops the tape reel with a sharp *click, click*, agonizing over which parts to edit out before finally standing up.
Los Angeles, a bustling metropolis far removed from Duluth. His entire routine consists of buying a hot dog from a small food cart right outside the studio. Even that scene has no dialogue.
Yet, without a single line of dialogue, Sion carried the scene entirely through his expressions and body language. A weary face. A slightly slouched back. Even though a titan like Jack Nicholson had just graced the screen, Sion's presence didn't shrink in the slightest; if anything, his youth made him stand out even more vividly.
Cold Duluth, warm Los Angeles. An aging father, a young son. Yet, in both places, they were identical in their absolute solitude.
The perspective shifts back to Bob.
[...Fired, you say?]
[Why put it so harshly? You've worked here a long time, so let's just call it an amicable end to your contract.]
Bob, who had been working as a columnist for the local newspaper, loses his job.
[To be honest, we've had a lot of complaints lately. Typos in your drafts, repeating the same points over and over... And times are changing, aren't they? There's a push from both inside and outside the office to bring in a fresh, youthful perspective...]
The publisher rattles off various excuses, but none of them register with Bob. A sudden, forced retirement. Against this backdrop of profound loneliness, the movie truly begins.
He has no one to call. Nowhere to go. Nothing to do. Television shows are utterly boring, and his failing eyesight makes reading books a chore. His meals consist of nothing more than canned soup heated with a splash of water or milk, paired with cheap, factory-made bread.
Watching his life unfold, the men in the screening room couldn't help but feel a certain emotion. Is this what life is?Are we all destined to be chewed up, spat out, and left to die like that?
Dan's situation was hardly any better. Working as a sound engineer in the big city, he was trapped in a cycle of low pay and mandatory overtime, leaving him with zero personal time and no one to open up to. He was the quintessential modern man—disconnected from the world, living without a shred of hope.
The story of these two men, each unearthing the long-buried feelings in their hearts to become a family once more, began to unfold in earnest...
"Ugh..." "Sniff... dammit..." As the film crossed its midway point, many of those gathered in the room began to weep silently, stifling their sobs.
Normally, internal screenings of this nature were approached with a cold, analytical eye. But Echoes of a Family was different. Through the motif of "sound," it delicately illustrated how memories linger in the human mind, how they inflict wounds, and how they ultimately heal them.
And by the time the film reached its final musical performance... This is insane. Seriously.This is it. It's going to sweep at least three major categories. The sentiment that this was a masterpiece was unanimous.
What was truly mind-blowing...
"You really have incredible foresight."
"Tom, how on earth did you know? How did you know Sion was an actor capable of this kind of performance?"
...was the dry, understated acting of the film's lead, Sion Lee.
Echoes of a Family didn't simply scream, This is the part where you cry. Even in the scene where Jack's character, suffering from Alzheimer's, fails to recognize his own son, Sion didn't cling to his father and sob. Instead, he reacted with awkwardness and bewilderment. And that made it all the more heartbreaking.
A protagonist who, in the eyes of modern society, was nothing more than a child who had never truly grown up to become a father himself. Only when Dan was forced to care for his regressing father like a child of his own did he begin to reflect on his own life. Listening to the torrent of praise erupting around him, Tom Cruise grinned.
As mid-November approached, Echoes of a Family slowly began its promotional campaign. Unlike typical blockbusters, the strategy they chose was remarkably simple.
STARRING SION LEE & JACK NICHOLSON
The poster featured close-ups of their faces on the left and right, each looking in opposite directions. It was a simple, symbolic image of a father-son relationship that could never quite connect.
The reactions of passersby who saw the poster were instantaneous:
"Huh?"
"What is this? Sion Lee did a movie with Jack Nicholson?"
"How did we not hear anything about this?"
"I mean, it's Sion and Jack! There should've been news leaks way beforehand..."
It was only natural. The film had been shot almost entirely in the remote, blue-collar town of Duluth. Even during the few scenes filmed later in Los Angeles, Sion had worn baggy sweatshirts, a messy brown wig, and oversized glasses, leading onlookers to assume some no-name indie actor was shooting a scene.
Above all, it was made possible by the production company's ironclad control over the paparazzi. ...Well, that, and the fact that Sion Lee was notorious among paparazzi as the "Boogeyman"—a guy rumored to smash cameras the moment he was slightly annoyed, which made them keep a respectful distance during crucial periods.
With only the barest minimum of information released, the film's sudden release announcement caught everyone off guard. They didn't even schedule a proper promotional tour. The only pre-release coverage was a review and a brief interview clip on the famous TV show Siskel & Ebert.
And on that very show, the critics offered this assessment of the film:
The film symbolized both the "beginning" and the "end." The timing of its release, right on the cusp of 1999—the final year of the 20th century—was nothing short of exquisite. It was, quite literally, a once-in-a-millennium film tailored perfectly for its era.
At the subsequent press screening for industry insiders and journalists, Sion Lee addressed this very point.
"Hello, everyone. I'm Sion Lee, the son who plays the protagonist, Dan, in this film that feels so fitting for the end of the century."
He maintained his usual witty demeanor, but his expression was far more serious than it had ever been at his previous premieres. And it was there that he...
Whew, this really doesn't suit me. I've spent years acting like a total brat at these events. Even as he realized this, he delivered his remarks, blending in a touch of the style of a certain woman who was closest to him.
"I know I've been quite arrogant in the past. Well, I still think that side of me has its charm, but the more I learn and experience in this industry, the more I realize how much room I have left to grow. In particular, I learned so much from my 'father' here. He quieted my anxieties and helped me become whole."
The era was on the brink of chaos. In truth, the entire decade of the nineties had been like that. As Ronald Reagan's neoliberalism of the eighties drew to a close and the collapse of the Soviet Union marked the definitive end of the Cold War, America was entering a brand-new era. The final decade of the twentieth century had been turbulent, and in the process, countless people had lost their way.
The breakdown of the family unit. The disconnect from the established social order. Released as if to target the turn of the century, Echoes of a Family was a film that depicted the restoration of all those broken bonds.
"To be honest, I am exactly that kind of person. Well, I don't think there's any shame in admitting that now... After all, aren't humans born a little broken to begin with? For me, the past ten years have been a journey of learning how to live with that brokenness. And so, this Hollywood brat is slowly growing up, still flawed, but now surrounded by people who understand him. As for who those people are... I don't need to spell it out. I'm sure you'll all use your imaginations to write about them anyway."
Sion's gaze drifted to a few specific people in the audience. Charlie Kang, Elena Asimov, Olga Asimov, and Fre... Paprika Patterson. Ah, wait, he's standing right next to me.
In return, he could feel their gazes locked onto him just as clearly. Every single one of them was thinking: What is wrong with this guy?Did he eat something bad for breakfast...?
Perhaps he had spent far too long playing the brat, because their immediate reaction was worry. Except for one person. Just do whatever you want, Sion. You idiot. Elena Asimov, who knew his true nature inside out, was different.
Actually, make that two. This kid. He actually knows how to speak so beautifully? That's a side of him I haven't seen. Jack Nicholson, who had stood by his side from the very beginning of the film to this very moment, was also deeply impressed.
Standing there naturally, bathed in the support of so many, Sion delivered his final line—and it was classic Sion Lee.
"So, next year is mine. Look forward to it."
An exceptionally thunderous round of applause erupted for him. Taking the microphone, Jack Nicholson let out a hearty chuckle and chimed in, building on Sion's words.
"I'm 'Bob,' also known as Jack Nicholson. Thanks to this kid, I think I've finally come to accept a few things during this film."
Originally, Jack had planned to just enjoy life on his own terms and slowly fade away. He hadn't wanted to acknowledge his own aging; he had wanted to remain a playboy forever.
"I didn't watch him from the very start of his career. But ever since he truly began to shine, I've been close to him. Maybe that's why... he feels like my..."
As Jack prepared to say those words in front of the massive crowd, a sudden sheen of tears welled in his eyes. But the moment he glanced at Sion standing right next to him, his expression instantly froze.
Cry~ Cry~ the arrogant, ridiculously handsome young actor was teasing him in a tiny, mischievous whisper.
Twitching an eyebrow, Jack snapped back to reality and cleared his throat to continue.
"...Well, yeah. Anyway, that's how it went. When I first met him, I thought we weren't even in the same league. Back then, I figured he'd need to be at least on Tom's level here to even talk about co-starring in a movie with me. But look at him now. The youth always find a way to grow, and before I knew it, he was holding his own, delivering a stellar performance right between two old-timers."
...He had originally intended to speak with a bit more emotion, but he ultimately held back. It didn't matter, though. The feeling of "watching a son grow"—of feeling like a father—was something he knew deep down in his heart, even if he didn't say it aloud.
Since this was a premiere aimed squarely at the Oscars, the atmosphere had ripened into something beautifully poignant, despite the leads being the notorious Sion and the legendary Jack. But then, Tom Cruise, standing right beside them, beamed brightly and shouted with zero self-awareness:
"Haha! Old-timers? Speak for yourself, Jack! I'm still in my prime!"
"..."
Jack had thought Sion Lee on his left was the only idiot, but it turned out the guy on his right was just as bad. Making his signature scowling face, Jack cleared his throat lightly and delivered his final line.
"Please, enjoy the film."