Driven to Madness, Part 4

After hanging up with Irene Cho, Sion assessed the situation with a cool head.

'It's going to be tight.'

A month and a half—no, realistically, excluding the time required for evaluations and administrative processing, they had to submit the final cut of the film to Sundance within a single month.

Having impulsively scheduled a rough cut screening without consulting anyone, Sion grabbed his rental car keys and headed out the door.

To an outsider, it was a reckless stunt that went far beyond "unconventional." But that was exactly why he had to do it.

'For ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the sake of this movie.'

Sion was highly objective about his current standing in the industry.

The name "Sion Lee" certainly carried massive commercial buzz, but he was not respected as a serious actor.

If he had to summarize his current situation in a single headline, it would be this:

Compared to big-budget Hollywood blockbusters, independent films naturally struggled to secure theater screens or proper marketing. In other words, they lacked accessibility.

On top of that, indie films carried a reputation for being somewhat tedious. The general public wouldn't go out of their way to watch a movie where Sion appeared bloated and out of shape.

Furthermore, his anti-fans would undoubtedly trash the movie without even watching it.

'Hardcore cinephiles might seek it out and recognize its value, but I can't just sit back and do nothing.'

To break through this barrier, he needed a seal of approval. For instance, an invitation to a prestigious festival like Sundance.

The problem, as always, was the deadline. Anticipating that the crew would have to grind themselves to dust to meet the timeline, Sion felt a pang of guilt. He bought a mountain of donuts and coffee from a nearby shop and headed to the editing studio.

The editing studio was located in the River North area of Chicago. When he knocked on the door, which had the sterile feel of a typical white-collar office, someone peeked out.

"Uh...?"

It was a white woman wearing glasses. Seeing her wrapped in a heavy padded jacket, she seemed to be just about to head home.

"S-Sion Lee?"

"Hi. Is Daniel inside?"

"...Wow..."

"Hmm?"

"I-I-I'm a huge fan! Please, come in!"

Sion stepped into the office, guided by the woman whose face had turned beet red.

"I really, truly love all of your movies! I've watched them all multiple times! The only reason I applied for this editing job was because I heard you were starring in it! I was actually assigned to another project, but I dumped it on someone else just to..."

"Thank you. What's your name?"

"Laura. Laura Watkins."

"I'm counting on you for the movie, Laura."

"Yes! Your acting in this is so good!"

"It's a bit different from my usual films, isn't it?"

"That's fine! Your face is acting itself!"

"..."

She clearly wasn't actually looking at the acting. Though she was a video editor, she appeared to be in a position where she just processed tasks as instructed.

"Oh? Sion?!" Right then, Daniel, spotting Sion entering the office with Laura, waved. He also seemed to be preparing to leave, already wearing a windbreaker jacket.

"Did the editing go well today?"

"We're just getting started. But it feels good. We're actually editing digitally."

Daniel pronounced "digital" with a heavy emphasis. This was that era—a transitional period where the age of physically cutting and splicing film was slowly coming to an end, and the era of editing with computer programs was arriving. Hearing that they were using a system that was overwhelmingly faster and more convenient compared to the traditional process, Sion's eyes gleamed.

"That's wonderful news. Can we talk for a bit over some donuts?"

"Huh? Oh, sure."

"You too, Laura, right?"

At Sion's gentle smile, Laura nodded vigorously and sat down. Handing a donut and a coffee to each of them, Sion prayed that the caffeine and sugar would soothe their startled hearts before he spoke.

"I made a mess, Director."

"What? Did you get someone pregnant?"

"Did you beat someone up?"

"...Thank you, Danny, for thinking I'm someone who wouldn't hurt others. Laura, you fail."

"M-My apologies."

Leaving behind Laura, who bit into her donut sheepishly, Sion continued.

"Do you know Irene Cho?"

"Is she the baby's mother?"

"...She's a programmer for the Sundance Film Festival."

Sion wondered for a moment if Daniel Summit was subtly mocking him, then pressed on.

"I made an appointment with her. She's coming to see the rough cut."

"..."

"..."

A long silence followed, and Daniel tilted his head.

"Why?"

"For the Sundance evaluation, of course."

"W-Wait a minute? We just finished filming yesterday, and all we've done is convert the footage to video format and load the cuts onto the Macintosh computer to start editing?"

"She's coming in a week. We have to make a rough cut by then, somehow."

"I-I think I should be going..."

"Double."

Sion caught the editor, Laura, who was trying to slip away. Double. The meaning of that word was self-evident. It meant he would pay her twice as much. Steam rose slowly from the coffee Laura was holding, and she turned back to Sion, speaking slowly.

"Triple."

"Double. But the pay will be directly to you, under the table, without telling the company. As a bonus."

"...!"

It was a perfect offer. Editing designers of this era were sad creatures. They sat in front of computers all day, editing videos with bleary eyes as instructed, receiving a weekly wage in return. Often, they didn't even get to keep all of that money, as it was split with the company. At best, they got an occasional bonus after finishing a major project. Laura, a sad beast of capitalism, spoke with a trembling voice.

"T-Then, one more thing."

"What is it?"

"Take some pictures with me. About ten. I choose the poses."

"As long as you sign a contract agreeing that those photos are for your personal collection, we can do it right now. I'll even wear whatever clothes you want."

"...Can you wear a white shirt and let me spray you with water?"

"That's a bit much. I'm only eighteen."

Laura, a sad beast of aestheticism, nodded with a slightly disappointed look. One side was convinced, but the other was the problem.

"It's impossible. Completing a rough cut in a week and finishing the final edit in a month?"

"Is it truly physically impossible? Even if the god of editing came down, they couldn't do it?"

"Well, not exactly, but..."

"If you're afraid of whether your work will succeed, don't worry. Trust me. It's the best piece I've ever seen."

Sion persuaded the director with a confident attitude.

"Do you remember that kid we saw at the cafe back then?"

"Yes, I remember."

"What about Jasmine?"

"Of course, I remember her."

"And Chicago?"

"..."

As the questions continued, Daniel's expression gradually shifted. The son born with a silver spoon in a family of lawyers had tried to melt the cold reality of Chicago into his film. After graduating from film school and clashing with reality, he was reflecting the various changes he felt into his work.

"Now is the time to face it head-on. Even if we have to push ourselves a bit."

"Sion...!" Swayed by the elegant persuasion, he pointed out one catch.

"Where are we going to get the money to pay Laura?"

"I'll pay. I have plenty of money."

"Oh, as expected of a Hollywood superstar."

"Huh? But I saw an article saying you were on the verge of bankruptcy from paying settlement fees..."

"Not everything printed in the newspapers is true."

"R-Really?!" Sion corrected her cleanly.

After that, incredibly busy days began. Daniel Summit and Laura Watkins barely left the editing room in the studio. The studio head, upon hearing that they had to finish the rough cut within a week, called it "madness." But they were dead serious. After all, a spot at the Sundance Film Festival—plus money and photos of Sion Lee—was on the line.

As the one who had opened the gates of this hell, Sion visited them every day with all kinds of food to support them. Exhausted from editing the movie from morning till night, the two of them, with half-dead expressions, wolfed down coffee and meals before heading back into the editing room. Meanwhile, Daniel's mumblings sent a slight chill down Sion's spine.

"I am Alex... I am Sion... I am Copse... I am Michael... Heather... Missile..."

He listed the characters' names, only for something completely random to pop out at the end. 'Is he going to launch something soon?'

In any case, the week flew by. Sion informed everyone involved that Sundance was coming for an evaluation. Just ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in case, he also notified Charlie Kang in California.

"Of course. From what I gathered during our brief chat, our movie wasn't even under consideration in the first place."

"I seduced one of their programmers."

"...Of course not. I just provoked her, saying they'd be idiots if they missed this movie."

"About what?"

"You're a terrible liar, Charlie." Sion chuckled, showing a hint of confidence. "Don't worry. I did my best."

"Probably? Red carpets, photocalls, opening receptions, all that stuff."

"Hmm? It's fine. Just send me whatever I have at home."

"More like 8kg?"

"I'll say it again. Don't worry." Sion replied in a nonchalant tone, reaching for the celery in front of him. Suppressing the urge to spray whipped cream all over it, he took a crunchy bite. In this manner, as everyone prepared in their respective domains for the Sundance Film Festival, a week passed.

December 8th, late afternoon.

"..."

The screening room of Philip Studios. The rough cut of Swing in Chicago, projected onto the screen, was playing. This was an internal screening attended by Fred Rocks, the executive who had greenlit the project, several studio executives, the production crew, and Irene Cho, the programmer for the Sundance Film Festival. The film, which began with what could still be called crude editing, opened by showing Alex rolling over while scratching his stomach.

From that very moment, Irene Cho's mouth fell open, and she couldn't take her eyes off the screen.

There is a common saying: the hardest acting is acting out daily life. Emotionally intense acting is actually easier. Irene clearly remembered the "everyday acting" Sion had shown in his previous films. He had delivered a terrible performance, like a chef who couldn't even crack an egg properly. Every single action was like an awkward robot, and his tone of voice was either exaggerated or completely inaudible. It felt like ordering a sunny-side-up egg and getting overcooked scrambled eggs or a salted raw egg.

But now was different. 'This is... "that" Sion Lee?' She couldn't believe it. For a brief moment, she even denied reality. This wasn't Sion Lee. This was definitely not the legendary handsome man ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠who made people think, "I'm glad I watched this movie," just by sitting in front of a lake, picking up a pebble, tossing it, and grinning. It wasn't just because of the belly bulging under his handsome face. It was his entire demeanor. 'He's the very definition of white trash commonly found in Chicago.'

The scene where he called out, "Heather, Heather," and kissed a poster. The scene where he went to the factory, worked among other laborers, failed to fit in, and smoked a cigarette alone. The feast of all those cold, pitiful, and pathetic sequences. Irene thought, 'It's beautiful...' She didn't want to admit it, but it was. And the acting ability Sion showed in each of those scenes was truly exquisite. Intense emotions were not overtly displayed, but the subtlety of balancing precariously on the border between daily life and acting, converging both, was incredibly good.

Before she knew it, Irene was deeply immersed in the film, feeling Chicago and reality through each sequence where the protagonist's life fell apart as he got involved in the dead drop crime. And that was the thought everyone watching the movie came to share.

'It's this good?'

'Wow, this is... way better than I expected.'

'If it's this good in the rough cut, how great will the final cut be?'

Most of the executives at Philip Studios, even if they didn't deeply analyze films, were people who could tell a good movie from a bad one just by looking. At the very least, they could make a proper judgment on the craftsmanship of a film as a product. From their perspective, Swing in Chicago evoked only one feeling.

'This will work. It definitely will.'

A story that seemed to pierce right through modern society. Due to its desperate and bleak nature, some would surely find it boring, but even so, after seeing the sequence where good and evil twist at the end, they would have no choice but to fall into deep contemplation. It was consistently indie-like, but within its latent context, the flavor of a commercial film coexisted.

"Amazing. It's a wonderful movie."

"I really liked the last scene. You might think it's a minor twist, but ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠from the perspective of watching the movie, it wasn't easy to notice. I'm really looking forward to the completed version."

While everyone was excitedly sharing their thoughts, Irene sat alone in her seat, lost in thought for a long time. Beside her, Sion wore a sly smile, waiting for the answer he wanted. Soon, she slowly opened her mouth.

"Mr. Lee. I'd like to say two things."

"Would you like to go up and say it? There's a podium in front."

"No, just to you personally. First, I'll apologize. I reflect on my narrow-mindedness in trying to evaluate the movie without even watching it properly."

"That sounds like something that would be even better to say up there." Sion smiled gently with his eyes. Irene snorted as if dumbfounded, but with her cheeks slightly flushed, she continued.

"As an apology, I will push for this movie to be the opening night premiere title, no matter what." Then she said in a barely audible voice, "Right now, you are a wonderful actor."

To that, Sion replied, "You're just realizing that now?"

"Ha!" She was annoyed by his arrogance, but it was actually better than his messy appearance in romance movies, so she had no choice but to let it slide.