Susan Sarandon, the kind of ethical futurist who had stubbornly refused to work with accused predators for years, gamely brainstormed leads. She let out a cackle when I told her what I was up to. “Oh, Ronan,” she said, going into a teasing, singsong delivery. Not mocking, just delighting at the impending drama about to befall me. “You’re gonna be in trouble.”
