From Flower Vase to Film Emperor in Hollywood

"Hey, Mary Jane."

He said, a smile spreading across his face, waving brightly and cheerfully, even with an unusual amount of exuberance, doing his best to show off his charm.

However, the smile lingered only for a moment before his right hand drooped down, dragging his shoulders and the corners of his mouth slowly downward, a sense of melancholy and loss gradually overflowing. At this moment, one could clearly feel the hesitation and uncertainty that had just surfaced in the boy's expression, tinged with a hint of reluctance and lingering.

"Hi, Mary Jane."

He said again, his voice clear and bright, even gentler than the first time, but the aura emanating from his entire being was slowly softening.

It wasn't exactly sadness or loss, just a kind of hesitant tenderness.

At this moment, his face and eyes were completely revealed, with the glasses removed, one could fully see the expanse of deep blue, profound yet clear, like the autumn sea.

Only two lines.

However, the grasp and control of the entire atmosphere was perfect, everything just right, gradually outlining the details within the emotions layer by layer.

Moreover, the lines, one high and one low, one fast and one slow, easily allowed the audience to realize:

Peter Parker was not directly confessing to Mary Jane.

Perhaps, Peter was just talking to himself; perhaps, Peter was quietly watching Mary Jane in the distance, trying to get closer but cautiously maintaining a distance, that kind of desire to get closer but having to use all his strength to control his steps, murmuring the secrets deep in his heart—

The torment and beauty of unrequited love, displayed simultaneously.

This, was the key point.

Now, the meaning contained in those steps and movements just now was fully explained, and quietly, the audience gradually immersed themselves in the scene.

The imagery became clearer and clearer.

The corners of the boy's mouth turned up slightly, clearly afraid to step forward but immersed in sweetness, and because he was maintaining a distance, he boldly spoke all his true thoughts.

"I'm not sure if you know, but I've been your neighbor since I was six."

"I was thinking…"

A little hesitant, but the smile at the corner of his mouth quietly turned up again, unable to hide the true emotions in his mind.

"Maybe we could go out sometime?"

The words paused, as if one could see Mary Jane's expression, a little confused, a little hesitant, a little puzzled, which might become his reason for retreating, fearing that after confessing, he would be rejected and unable to recover.

"Go out and hang out?"

Unconsciously, his voice lowered, falling into his own world.

Unrequited love is like this, revolving around the sun, but not daring to get close, in one's own world, it's like a tsunami, turning the world upside down, sometimes happy, sometimes sad, anxious and uncertain, with great ups and downs.

Then, let the imagination in the mind unfold freely, clearly nothing has happened, but everything has already changed.

The corner of his mouth twitched slightly, as if he had thought of some happy scene, but he didn't become more courageous, instead, he cautiously took a small step back, his eyes were so focused and so affectionate as he stared ahead, but his body had stopped, not only his steps, but even the angle of his upper body leaning forward had also retracted, both physically and mentally reining in the reins.

The body was like this, but the tsunami in the brain still didn't stop.

"Or, I don't know, I think it's time to learn more about each other."

"Or not."

Before the previous sentence had stopped, he immediately denied himself, the timidity and sigh in his language contrasting sharply with the reluctance in his eyes. As soon as he finished speaking, he revealed a smile to cover up his embarrassment, awkwardly turning his head away, then lowering his head.

When he looked up again, his expression had returned to normal, with a warm and kind smile, but it was uncertain whether it was his own illusion, a hint of sigh hidden behind the bright smile, and a faint bitterness, quietly and deeply staring ahead like this.

The whole place was silent.

No one spoke, and no one intended to speak, those gazes watched Anson, and seemed to watch the distance behind Anson, inadvertently falling into their own memories, awakening the ignorance and youthfulness of those green years, awakening the surging and passionate feelings of those young and frivolous years—

Everyone, has their own past.

The memories, were somewhat distant, they had not awakened those sealed fragments hidden in the corners for a long time, but they suddenly became incomparably clear, never dimmed, never disappeared, and even the mixed taste of bitterness and happiness in youth was still vivid.

Quiet, a silence.

Finally, Ian was the first to wake up, taking a deep breath, dragging his thoughts back to reality from his memory, and refocusing his gaze on Anson.

At this time, Ian could see that Anson was still immersed in the role, and had not left, standing quietly in place, the emotions of his eyes and expression were still continuing, this immersion and focus was eye-catching, breaking Ian's guess in small details, bringing a small surprise.

Ian admitted that he valued Anson because of his appearance.

As a director, Sam needed to consider matching the role to show the plot; as a producer, Ian needed to consider catering to the market and commercial promotion.

In Anson, Ian saw potential. If Anson were to play a superhero, he believed that he should be able to gain market recognition, so he summoned Anson to audition; but Ian's positioning of Anson was also very clear, a handsome guy, a vase, a symbol, that should be all.

But he didn't expect that, once, twice, three times… So far, Anson has broken Ian's expectations a total of three times, continuously bringing surprises.

Only thirty seconds, to be precise, this passage, even less than thirty seconds, at most twenty seconds, but Anson used his own way to fill up the content and emotion of a small monologue, and brought a special experience in about thirty seconds.

Ian was indeed a little impressed.

Thinking back carefully, from the time Anson turned around and pulled away, retreating into the shadows, he should have already conceived the entire plot and the entire picture in his mind, like a slide show, a storyboard, building the three-dimensional image of the entire scene in his mind, substituting them into the plot.

But they, these old guys, one or two of them, seemed like laymen, ridiculing Anson's amateurism, and preconceived prejudices blinded their eyes. They thought that Anson lacked acting experience and audition experience, so he made a novice's mistake, but now it seems, who is the amateur?

Involuntarily, Ian once again recalled Anson's teasing words before the performance: he did let everyone see him.

Ian, was very satisfied.

However, Ian didn't immediately make a decision. After all, this was a superhero movie, with an investment cost of over one hundred million US dollars. If he casually chose an actor, and the result led to the failure of the movie's box office, who would really suffer the loss, the new actor, or him, the experienced producer?

Fifth update.