From Flower Vase to Film Emperor in Hollywood

One of the most significant differences between acting in film, television, and on stage is:

The ability to look directly at the audience.

Stage plays require looking directly at the audience because they need to connect with the audience through eye contact. Eye contact is part of the performance and the live atmosphere of the theater, which effectively conveys the power of the performance.

Film and television, however, do not allow this. In Acting 101 for newbies, one of the first lessons is never to look directly at the camera, because looking directly at the camera breaks the fourth wall, destroys immersion, and makes the audience disengage, breaking free from the audiovisual experience created by the screen.

Of course, works like "The Big Short," which deliberately break the fourth wall and engage in dialogue with the cinema audience, are another matter entirely, because this is the director's creative intention, using the fourth wall to achieve different effects.

And just now, Anson made eye contact with the camera.

An NG (no good), was inevitable.

Steven's voice came from the walkie-talkie, "Anson, did you just make eye contact with me?"

Although it wasn't Anson's fault, Anson didn't shirk responsibility, "To be honest, I made a deal with the devil for my soul, so did you see something just now?"

Haha, the set erupted in laughter.

The assistant cameraman breathed a long sigh of relief and secretly turned to look at Anson, revealing a grateful smile—

Actually, it was his fault for not controlling the cameraman's position, resulting in a slight deviation. He didn't expect Anson to take the blame without any explanation.

Jokes aside, it was just a brief moment of levity.

Anson immediately refocused, adjusted his breathing, and calmed himself down.

Filming is like this: the more nervous you are, the more mistakes you make; the more mistakes you make, the more nervous you become, eventually forming a vicious cycle, sinking into the mud.

Originally, the tension had quietly settled into the depths of his heart, hidden from view, but after multiple NGs, regardless of whether it was his fault or not, the smoothness of the filming was disrupted, and the tension resurfaced.

So, what to do?

He could take deep breaths, he could meditate with his eyes closed, calming the tension down and focusing his attention. That was one way; but he had another idea:

When Little Frank realizes that the FBI agents are closing in, is he nervous?

Of course. He is also flesh and blood, he is also an ordinary person, how could he not be nervous? But he controls himself, showing a calm demeanor.

Perhaps, he could justifiably use this feeling of chaos and tension, perfectly embodying Little Frank's state, breaking the fourth wall between the filming set and the film screen, freely switching between reality and illusion.

Based on the preparations made so far today, he could go a step further and delve deeper.

This, is the method acting, isn't it?

Anson couldn't be sure of the final effect, but rather than conservatively following the routine, it was better to take some risks—

Don't be afraid of making mistakes, because making mistakes is better than being bored.

Anyway, Steven, as the director, never adjusted or gave instructions on the performance, completely letting Anson and Tom improvise freely. That was a green light, right?

Taking a risk in front of Tom Hanks?

That would be even better. Besides now, what other opportunity would he have to showcase his acting skills in front of such a big shot? Besides, Tom is also an actor, a scene partner, not a lofty deity to be looked up to and worshiped.

Anson was faintly excited.

Anson entered the bathroom, stood in front of the mirror, adjusted his bow tie and hairstyle, quietly listening to the sound of the clapperboard announcing the start of filming coming from outside the door. He didn't rush to act, but simply allowed himself to be immersed in this slightly tense and empty-minded state, his fingertips tingling slightly—

As if ants were crawling on them.

In fact, there were no cameras in the bathroom, because Steven was trying to create a contrast, so the main perspective of this scene was Carl, placing Little Frank in a mysterious position, relying on the subsequent interaction between the two characters to gradually reveal Little Frank's state.

So, now Anson was left alone in the bathroom.

Even so, Anson was still getting into character, even without the camera.

Focus.

Immersion.

Anson slowly settled down, unconsciously immersed in the brilliance of a golden sun, and then he could feel the gold gradually transforming into deep blue, the sunlight turning into lake water, submerging him.

His heart, contracted.

Bang!

"FBI!"

The sound of the door being kicked open and the announcement of their presence exploded simultaneously, like a thunderclap.

Involuntarily, Little Frank held his breath.

Subconsciously, he looked around. The bathroom had no windows or vents, the only exit was the front door, and he was now a turtle in a jar.

What to do?

What to do, what to do, what to do?

Little Frank knew that the motel room was only the size of a palm, and there wasn't much space, including the closet and under the bed, so there was no way to hide a person.

He now had two choices:

First, believe that the FBI wouldn't search the bathroom and would carelessly miss him.

Second, rather than taking a chance, he might as well risk a head-on breakthrough.

Thoughts surged in his mind.

In just a fleeting moment, he had already made a judgment.

Taking a deep breath, he decisively pressed the toilet flush.

Whoosh.

"FBI!"

The shout immediately came from outside the door after hearing the flushing sound.

But he wasn't anxious, instead he calmed down, turned on the faucet and started washing his hands. He washed very carefully, not missing any corner.

"Come out of the bathroom!"

"Come out of the bathroom!"

The shouts were louder and louder, slightly hurried, and anxiety and eagerness could be captured from the sound, lacking the calmness of someone in control of the overall situation.

Perhaps—just perhaps, this FBI agent rarely went to the scene for duty, after all, most of the time white-collar crime could be solved by flipping through documents in the office, which meant that the other party lacked field experience.

His brain worked at high speed, and then Little Frank straightened his back, raised his chin, looked at himself in the mirror, exaggeratedly raised the corners of his mouth, and then slowly relaxed, finding a relaxed and comfortable position, before turning around.

Taking off the towel, he wiped his hands leisurely and opened the bathroom door.

The amber light spilled out, and Little Frank poked his head out to take a look, first seeing the camera, and then seeing a middle-aged man who was tense and full of vigilance—

Suit. Shirt. Tie.

These weren't the point. The point was that he was wearing glasses, like a nerd; and he was also wearing a hat, a soft-brimmed bowler hat.

No field agent would wear a hat. No.

Because it was too inconvenient, unsuitable for exercise and unsuitable for pursuit.

Finally, his gaze fell on the tense, straight arm, the black muzzle pointed at him, the tension of his whole body concentrated and displayed here.

Little Frank thought, this is a rookie.

The performance had already begun outside the camera, and by the time he entered the camera's range, the details had already silently integrated into the atmosphere.

"Hands on your head." The FBI agent issued a warning, interrupting Little Frank's thoughts, but such strength instead exposed his outwardly strong but inwardly weak nature.

Little Frank completely ignored him, gesturing naturally with his chin in the direction of the desk, "That's the latest IBM electric typewriter…"

Even with a gun pointed at him, he remained calm and composed.