By “How would you like to make an incredible amount of money?”
Brad Bird finally looked up from his desk. He hadn’t gone home in two days – editing on Tomorrowland had been gruelling, and he wasn’t even sure if the two hours of footage that remained counted as a movie, let alone if it was any good. “What do you want, Jim?” he said. May as well get this over with.
“I said, how would you like to make an incredible amount of money?” Jim repeated the gag with identical intonation, Except this time, he added a beautifully insincere smile.
“Oh.” Brad knew the implication, hell, anyone as far as Iowa got the implication. It wasn’t exactly subtle. “Look, I just want to get this movie done first, I’m not -“
“Listen, Brad.”
Brad knew that voice. They all had it. Each of them kissed your ass in completely different ways, but smacked you down as one. It was now that he knew he didn’t have any choice, and he didn’t get to where he is by picking fights he couldn’t win.
“We let you make Tomorrowland, and it’s great, really, we couldn’t be happier -“
“Uh-huh,” Brad interjected, knowing he wouldn’t be heard.
” – but we need you to do this. Pixar ain’t what it was, and, we’ve been so kind to you.” Jim clasped his palms together, interlocking his palms and resting them in his lap. He sat bank, and waited for Brad to respond.
But Brad didn’t. He sat there, thinking to himself about the fact that Ratatouille was eight years ago. He had such big plans back then. So many stories to tell. What happened to the ‘Earthquake Picture’ he pitched way back when, what changed along the way? He wanted to ask Jim, but he knew Jim was just the messenger. So he looked up, and returned an insincere smile of his own. “When do you need the script?”
[via Collider]