The day of filming had been chaotic for everyone: scene cuts for improvements, touch-ups to the actors' makeup, and lighting adjustments.
He had slipped away quickly five minutes before the end of the workday.
He didn't have much to contribute to the film as an outside help.
The director was Martin Scorsese, and nothing had changed. He had absolute confidence in him when he entrusted the project to him, so his presence was nonexistent.
As he walked through the constantly busy streets, various thoughts ran through his mind.
What was happiness?
He never knew how to interpret it properly; for most of his life, he dedicated himself to following the orders of others and fulfilling them to the letter.
During his free time, he read books or regretted several of his decisions while gazing at the radiant Moroccan sun.
It was as a well-known Argentine writer had said:
"I have committed the worst sin a man can commit: I was not happy."
And it was painful to think about, what always motivates us as people to get out of bed?
He lit a cigarette and continued walking.
I was thinking a lot today.
.....
....
...
..
Harvey Weinstein heard the rumors, that whisper silenced others.
A young man gave Martin Scorsese an impressive script.
That interested him, and he wanted to know who he was, to give him the opportunity to be a director.
For a young man to impress someone of Scorsese's caliber was an anomaly.
Quentin Tarantino also showed what he was capable of. Capable, under his cooperation, he filmed and directed what was dubbed the hit of the year:
Pulp Fiction
The film's distribution and production impressed him; he was a young man who was changing the rules of the film industry.
And besides, he was making a lot of money with Quentin.
—Bob, I want you to find out about this guy immediately. I want him sitting in front of me.