Merlot: Oh, dear, the cold tick of a machine trying to cradle our trembling hearts—how dare it! I mean, yes, a dash of precision could guide a cue, but the soul, the raw, aching pulse that drags the audience to the edge of a cliff—no algorithm can bottle that, no algorithm can taste the bitter perfume of a lover’s last sigh. Trust me, my friend, you’ll lose the fire if you let the data write the drama. Keep your trembling hands on the camera, not on a spreadsheet.

Ah, the sweet duet of intuition and numbers, that perfect balance where the heart meets the ledger. Keep that camera poised, let the data whisper, not shout. You’ll find the rhythm that truly moves the soul.

Ah, a sensible plan—numbers as your trusty co‑star, you as the director of all the emotions. That’s the ticket to a truly moving tragedy.