Lucas Wood stared at Anson, speechless, scrutinizing him up and down. Though he said nothing, his expression said it all.
Anson met his gaze calmly. "Don't hold it in too long—you might hurt yourself."
Lucas glanced at him with a blank expression but couldn't help himself after a brief pause. "Are you seriously carrying your guitar everywhere?"
"What I mean is, coming home for Christmas looking like a vagabond was already shocking enough. Now you're heading to the cinema with a guitar on your back. What's going on?"
Anson replied earnestly, "Of course. Otherwise, how can I fully embody the role?"
Lucas sighed. "Even Johnny Cash wouldn't take his guitar to a movie."
"Maybe not," Anson conceded. "But Johnny would never go anywhere without his guitar. You never know when an opportunity to perform might arise."
"Even at the movies?"
"Even at the movies. The inconvenience is the whole point. Like getting dirty looks on the subway because your guitar takes up space, or accidentally bumping into someone at a coffee shop, only for the staff to suggest you take your coffee to go."
Lucas stared at him, incredulous.
Anson shrugged. "See? If you haven't experienced it, it's hard to imagine the struggles of not having your instrument when an opportunity arises—or the challenges of carrying it from city to city looking for those opportunities."
"I need to be with my guitar at all times to truly experience the chain reactions its presence creates."
Lucas studied Anson for a moment, then said, "So, what? You think this method is dumb? I admit, it's clunky, but I don't know any other way to do it."
After a pause, Lucas smirked. "No, I was just thinking—you're fully an actor now."
Anson dramatically clutched his chest, pretending to be deeply moved, wiping invisible tears from his dry face, his expression exaggerated to the point of absurdity.
Lucas rolled his eyes. "This guy."
Ignoring Anson's antics, Lucas changed the subject. "So, you're sure about this, The Elephant?"
"Watching one of your movies every holiday—last year it was Catch Me If You Can, this year it's The Elephant. Is this becoming a family tradition?"
Anson chuckled. "Like watching It's a Wonderful Life every Christmas?"
Lucas imagined the scene and couldn't help but smile. "You'd better start making some uplifting films, or Christmas might turn into Halloween."
"Haha!" Anson laughed heartily. "I'll try my best. This one's an exception."
"I hadn't planned to come to the cinema, but I'm a little worried about the box office this time."
"The director told me his last film only made $250,000 in theaters. Even though the studio didn't expect it to be a moneymaker, that kind of result still stings."
"So for his next project, he partnered with HBO. Directors usually don't like working with TV networks—it's not glamorous. But he didn't want the studio to take another loss."
Lucas nodded in understanding. "But didn't this one win awards? That should help, right?"
"Winning awards is one thing; box office success is another," Anson replied.
"The director told me about his next project—he wants to film skateboarders in a park in L.A., pushing even further into exploring how cinema bridges the gap between art and reality. But getting funding for that will be just as tough."
"So I thought, maybe we could contribute a little to the box office ourselves."
Lucas considered. "Did you forget? We have our own production company."
"I mentioned that to the director," Anson said. "But he told me this project is a 99% money-loser, with little chance of making an awards run. He doesn't want to sink our new company by investing in something unprofitable and unnoticed. If that were an option, Matt Damon and Ben Affleck's fund could help, and the director wouldn't be struggling."
"He's hoping The Elephant's success will inspire some wealthy producers to write him a check, dreaming of Cannes."
By this point, the Wood brothers had arrived at the Angelika Film Center—
It was a Saturday afternoon.
The theater entrance was bustling with the usual weekend crowd, not the long lines from the day before. Everything seemed ordinary.
Inside, however, the lobby was unusually quiet.
Lucas glanced at Anson, a bit concerned. He wasn't a frequent moviegoer and didn't know what to expect on a Saturday afternoon. But a theater like Angelika being this empty didn't feel right.
Anson returned Lucas's look with a furrowed brow, worry etched on his face.
When they reached the ticket counter, Lucas asked, "Two tickets for the next showing of The Elephant, please."
"The 2:45 screening is sold out," the cashier replied cheerfully. "Would you like tickets for the 3:00 show?"
Lucas blinked.
Anson leaned forward. "Did you just say 'sold out'?"
"Yes, all screenings so far today are sold out. The 3:00 show is over 90% full, so you might want to arrive early for good seats."
Anson blinked again.
Lucas looked at Anson, confused. "I thought you said the box office was struggling?"
This time, Lucas took over. "Can I ask—why is it so busy? I didn't think this kind of film would draw much of a crowd. Or is it just this theater?"
"Starting yesterday, it's been packed. Not just today—pre-sales for tomorrow are already over 50%. It's got to be the Anson Wood effect."
"If you'd been here yesterday, the place was overflowing. Most tickets for today were sold out yesterday, so the lobby's quieter now. Even we were caught off guard by the demand."
Lucas and Anson exchanged bewildered looks, utterly unprepared for this turn of events.
"Would you still like tickets for the 3:00 show?"
"Yes. Two, please," Lucas replied.
"Enjoy your time at the Angelika."
As they took their tickets and turned to leave, the brothers were still at a loss.
Lucas broke the silence. "Does this mean the director doesn't need to worry about the box office anymore?"
Anson shrugged, spreading his hands. "You can't predict art-house film performance. But I'm pretty sure the director doesn't know about this yet."
So, selling out screenings—this is a good thing, right?