Chapter 370: Refusing to Direct

Chapter 370: Chapter 370: Refusing to Direct

"You’re back?" Sophia looked up, a gentle smile on her face. "How was your trip to New York? Did the shareholders’ meeting go smoothly?"

"Not exactly smooth, but not terrible either." Irene took off her suit jacket, handed it to the maid, walked over to the sofa, and sat down, taking the warm water Sophia handed her.

"Marvel’s CEO Isaac Perlmutter is too rigid in his thinking. He simply won’t listen to any innovative suggestions. I’ve already had Chen Shiyu investigate him. I’m preparing to replace him."

She briefly recounted the disputes at the shareholders’ meeting and her conflict with Isaac, her tone tinged with a hint of exhaustion.

Sophia listened quietly, nodding from time to time. Only after Irene finished did she speak. "Management in family-run businesses like that is often very stubborn. They care more about their own control than the company’s future. If you want to change them, it will certainly take some effort."

She paused, pushed the copy of Brokeback Mountain resting on her lap toward Irene, her expression complex. "Let’s not talk about Marvel anymore. I’ve finished reading this book, and I want to talk to you about it."

Irene’s gaze fell on the novel’s cover, where the vast, desolate grasslands of Brokeback Mountain shimmered with a poignant, beautiful luster under the setting sun. A faint premonition stirred in her heart. Looking at Sophia’s expression, she asked tentatively, "So, sis, you don’t want to direct this film?"

Sophia didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she picked up the novel and gently stroked the cover, her tone calm but firm. "Yes, I cannot direct it."

She looked up at Irene, her eyes carrying a hint of apology.

"It’s not that the story isn’t good. On the contrary, it’s truly moving. I spent an entire night finishing the book. The repressed, stoic, and deep feelings between Ennis and Jack made my eyes well up with tears several times. Especially the final scene where Ennis weeps over that blood-stained shirt—the power of the writing is just so overwhelming. I can feel their pain and helplessness."

Irene asked, puzzled, "Since you like the story so much, why not choose to direct it? I had no choice. Father said my emotional experience wasn’t enough to support me in making this work, and I think he was right. But I don’t think you have that problem. The emotional core of this story is very similar to *Lost in Translation*—it’s all about loneliness and the longing for connection. You’ve always been adept at handling that kind of delicate emotion."

"It is precisely because I prioritize emotional resonance that I cannot take it on." Sophia shook her head gently, her tone candid.

"Irene, I can understand the LGBT community, and I have never shunned them. In the fashion world, I know many LGBT friends. They are kind, talented, and we get along very well. But understanding and identifying with them are two different things. I can respect their choices, but I cannot empathize with their feelings from the bottom of my heart."

She paused, as if organizing her thoughts or perhaps sorting through her own heart.

"We grew up in a traditional family. The education we received from childhood and the social environment we were in have kept my understanding of love confined to that between a man and a woman.

I can imagine Ennis and Jack’s pain, but I cannot truly experience the courage they had to break through worldly prejudices to love in that conservative era. I can understand the helplessness of their forced separation, but I cannot empathize with that ultimate despair of ’clearly loving each other, yet unable to be together.’ This emotional barrier is one I cannot cross."

"The director is the soul of a film. A good film requires the director to inject their own emotions into it and resonate deeply with the characters to move the audience. If I were to direct Brokeback Mountain, this subconscious prejudice of mine, even if it were only a tiny bit, would manifest in the cinematography, narrative pacing, and the guidance of the actors’ performances, ultimately ruining the film. I cannot waste such a good story because of my own limitations, and I certainly cannot betray your trust."

Irene listened quietly without speaking.

She knew Sophia was speaking the truth, without a shred of pretense.

In 2003 America, although the LGBT community had begun to fight for their rights, society’s level of acceptance was still far from enough. The veneer of ’political correctness’ had not yet formed, and most people’s perceptions remained at a traditional level.

Sophia’s thoughts were, in fact, a true reflection of most people in American society at that time—not repulsed, but also unable to fully identify with them.

Moreover, they were sisters who had grown up together. There was never a need for pretense between them.

That Sophia was willing to tell her the most genuine thoughts in her heart—this sincerity moved her more than any promise ever could.

"Alright, I understand." Irene nodded gently, her tone peaceful. "Sis, you don’t need to feel sorry. Everyone has their own emotional boundaries and cognitive limitations. This isn’t your problem. Brokeback Mountain truly needs a director who can genuinely understand and identify with this community to capture its essence. If you were to film it while harboring hesitation and barriers, it would only backfire."

She picked up the copy of Brokeback Mountain from the table and flipped through a few pages, a hint of regret in her eyes. "Actually, I was really looking forward to working with you. The idea of us sisters creating a classic work together felt so meaningful. But that’s okay, there will be plenty of opportunities in the future."

Sophia looked at her sister’s understanding gaze, the guilt in her heart gradually dissipating, and a relieved smile appeared on her face. "Thank you for understanding me, Irene. Actually, I’m quite regretful too. This story is truly just too compelling."

She paused, as if suddenly remembering something, and her eyes brightened. "Oh, right, perhaps Director Ang Lee, whom you mentioned earlier, would be a good candidate."

"Ang Lee?" Irene was somewhat surprised that Sophia’s tone, when mentioning Ang Lee, carried a sense of familiarity. She hadn’t expected her to be quite appreciative of Ang Lee’s works.

"Yes," Sophia nodded, her tone firm. "I’ve seen quite a few of his films, including The Wedding Banquet and Eat Drink Man Woman. He is very skilled at using restrained cinematography and everyday details to carry intense emotional conflicts. In his films, there is always a profound insight into human nature and a tolerance for different cultures and different emotions.

Look at The Wedding Banquet*—his portrayal of the gay community isn’t deliberately sentimental or stereotypical. Instead, he uses a peaceful, objective perspective to show their situation and feelings. That kind of delicacy and gentleness is very rare, and it fits *Brokeback Mountain perfectly."

"The story of Brokeback Mountain spans twenty years. The emotions are repressed and deep. It doesn’t need too many intense dramatic conflicts, but rather this ’hearing thunder in the silence’ narrative style. He was indeed a bit out of his element filming Hulk. The fast pace and strong conflicts of that kind of blockbuster didn’t quite fit his style. But for Brokeback Mountain, it’s practically tailor-made."

"You’re right, Ang Lee is indeed the best candidate." She put down the novel, looked at Sophia, and smiled. "Although we couldn’t work together this time, I still want to thank you for your suggestion. If Ang Lee really does direct Brokeback Mountain, half of the credit will go to you."

Sophia shook her head with a smile. "I only made a suggestion. The key still depends on your sincerity and the project’s appeal. Director Ang Lee’s position in Hollywood is a bit awkward right now. The negative impact from Hulk hasn’t completely faded yet. If you want to invite him, you might have to put in some effort."

"Don’t worry, I know how to convince him. After all, we are old friends." Irene smiled.