From Flower Vase to Film Emperor in Hollywood

Silky smooth, seamless, flowing like water, simply perfect—

Everything, absolutely everything, smoothly returned to its place, without any abnormalities or stumbles.

Chaos, vanished; turbulence, calmed.

Order, restored to its proper state.

Incredible.

Quietly, Cody couldn't help but close his eyes, listening to the melody and enjoying the tranquility, his thoughts swaying gently in the trickling stream, immersed within, the sound of his heartbeat quietly melting into the striking of the strings, disappearing from notice.

Everything, unbelievably smooth.

The past two weeks, how chaotic and disheveled the set had been, inside and out; the shock and impact at this moment were all the more turbulent and frantic.

Those accidents, those situations, those collisions, those frustrations, those pains, those anxieties, in the end, had all evolved into fuel for this very moment, an indescribable sense of satisfaction continuously swelling in his chest.

Like a dream, like an illusion.

Because it was too wonderful and too smooth, Cody began to feel a little doubt—

There was no sense of reality at all.

Could this, perhaps, be a dream?

Opening his eyes, the sun would be high in the sky, and then he would discover that everything just now was all a dream, that he had merely slept too deeply because of exhaustion, jolting awake from the dream with a start, his heart exploding like a freefall crash into the ground, covered in cold sweat, living in constant anxiety.

Otherwise, what better explanation could there be?

Anson being so kind and so amiable? The chaos and accidents being resolved so smoothly? The onlookers and museum visitors being so docile and obedient?

How could that be possible!

Taking a deep breath, Cody forced himself to open his eyes, figuring that whether he stretched his neck for the blade or turtled his head to hide, it was all the same, so he might as well die early and be reborn sooner.

Light, entered his eyes, but Cody quickly realized:

This, could it be reality?

Cody turned his head to look to the side: Hunter, the ardent fan, a troublemaker.

The information automatically appeared in his mind, verifying that everything before him was actually happening.

And also Director Mangold, too.

Mangold was staring intently at the monitor screen, seemingly drawn into the screen, completely lost in himself.

Clearly, this scene in the script had already been filmed, but Mangold had not stopped filming, his appearance, his expression, completely immersed within, as if he had gone from the movie set to the concert venue, space and time both breaking down barriers, seamlessly connecting, magic was happening.

Finally, Cody realized that he was not alone.

Then, he also turned to look at the monitor screen—

Until an entire song was finished, the Tennessee Three exchanged glances, their fingers simultaneously pressing on the strings, drawing a rest note for the song, the lingering sound still rippling and surging in the air, the faces of the three men blooming with hearty smiles.

Soaked in sweat, flushed.

Just a short song, only three minutes, but the three of them were as if burning their lives, that kind of unburdened joy and exhaustion surging at the same time, their eyes meeting, they couldn't help but laugh out loud.

Then, Mangold finally came back to his senses—

"Cut!"

A command, like a spell to undo the magic, the soul returned to the body, subconsciously clapping his hands, without thought, without feeling, just an instinct, this was the only way to release the energy from the depths of his soul, and by the time he realized what was happening, thunderous applause had already spread out mightily, sweeping the entire venue, without exception.

Applause, thunderous.

Mangold suddenly stood up, ready to say a few words, but was instantly drowned out by the roaring sound waves of the entire venue, the smiling faces filled with joy and happiness reflected in his eyes, more direct than any words, which made him laugh heartily—

His face full of pride.

Just last night, Mangold and Keach had been arguing in the hotel where the crew was staying.

Keach believed that Mangold was indulging Anson, allowing Anson to do whatever he wanted, allowing Anson to override the authority of the director and producer, allowing Anson to interfere with the filming of the crew as an actor, which was the beginning of a disaster.

Moreover, "He's just an actor, what does he know about filming plans."

Mangold didn't like hearing that, Keach himself was also an actor, knew nothing about the work of producers and directors, and only relied on the trust of Johnny Cash and June Carter to firmly grasp the copyright to the biopic, and as a result, Keach was still here overstepping his authority and giving orders.

To put it bluntly, Keach was just dissatisfied with Lucas's strength, cutting off Keach's interference and harassment, and handing over the professional right to speak on film production to Anson with an absolutely strong attitude, so Keach was just whining there.

But now?

This scene before him was the best proof—

A song "Folsom Prison Blues", simply perfect.

From a technical level, it certainly wasn't, Anson's singing wasn't perfect.

In fact, in order to show Johnny Cash's youthfulness and nervousness, as well as the apprehension of publicly performing his own creation for the first time, Anson's a cappella in the first half was slightly dry, trembling slightly, and the control of the rhythm also had deviations.

These flaws all objectively existed, and only slowly entered the state as the performance progressed; later, the ensemble of the three people also had some mistakes in coordination because there were no rehearsals, and the three people had to observe and think, and find the correct notes in the process of running in.

However, the flaws did not detract from the jade.

In fact, precisely because of these flaws, the audience felt the true emotions in this performance, as well as the obvious arc.

Impressive.

Mangold was not a professional musician, and his understanding of music was very superficial, and Anson was able to make him, a layman, feel the layers and arcs of the performance through the performance, which was already considered incredible.

And Mangold, as a director, was truly surprised by Anson's performance—

As an actor's performance.

On the one hand, the details shown by the eyes and body language showed the character's state to the point but accurately.

On the other hand, through the musical performance and playing, the character's psychological changes were brought out, and the character's talent and emotional transformation could be felt in just a short scene.

Everything, just like Mangold's idea:

Use music to show the characters, use performances to present emotions, and truly integrate music into the characters and stories, not like musicals such as "Chicago", but to show the inspiration behind the creation of musical art.

How to draw energy from life, and how to express it through music, how life and art are intertwined, and how art completes creation.

This, is what Mangold wants to show.

And in the first scene, Anson did it.