From Flower Vase to Film Emperor in Hollywood

At a glance, Steven noticed the way Anson handled his gaze in the shot—

He was observing.

In two steps. First, observing the FBI agent's attire and movements; second, scanning the entire scene. Although his gaze met the camera for a moment, it wasn't an NG. On the contrary, Steven found it interesting.

Wonderful.

A stroke of genius.

If the audience didn't notice, then they didn't notice, regrettably missing a moment to enhance their viewing experience; but if they did notice, the thrill would be doubled.

This is acting.

Perhaps, after this set of shots is finished, they should film a close-up separately, inadvertently capturing such a fleeting detail.

Steven had to admit that Anson wasn't the type of actor he liked, because he was uncontrollable and often went off the rails, which was a disaster for Steven; but at the same time, he couldn't help but be curious about Anson's performance—

It was like sweets.

He knew that sugar and fat might trigger a health warning, but he couldn't control himself. What's the point of life without sweets?

Subtly, Steven also felt a bit of excitement.

Quietly... getting into the scene.

In front of the camera, however, no one noticed anything unusual, and the performance continued.

As soon as he appeared, quickly grasping the situation and assessing his circumstances and position, Little Frank was actually nervous. After all, he had never experienced such a scene. Although he tried his best to remain calm, his reaction was still slightly over the top—

He was interrupting.

"That's the latest IBM electric typewriter..."

Carl was fully on guard, "Hands on your head!"

He threw away the towel in his hand and advanced confidently, mimicking the posture of a shopping channel salesman, forcing the tense FBI agent to retreat repeatedly, "It can change the printing format in five seconds."

Carl, "Shut up!"

Little Frank, "It's just highlighting a ball..."

He noticed—

The FBI agent was retreating.

Generally speaking, seasoned detectives should have already taken action... right? He wasn't sure, but the other party's reaction gave him confidence. His panic and anxiety subsided slightly, and his words became slightly more relaxed.

Tension, a palpable tension, filled the air.

Viewers who were truly familiar with Tom Hanks would be able to discern that his performance was slightly over the top, and even his voice was slightly shrill, showcasing the tension. It wasn't flamboyant, but it added a touch of neurotic comedic humor.

Back and forth.

Advancing and retreating.

The two people in the shot were like dancers in a tango, probing and confronting each other.

The camera's movement speed couldn't keep up. One second, Tom was right in front of the camera, and the next second, the reverse clockwise movement switched to Anson's perspective.

The two actors were rotating, and the photographer was also rotating, but obviously, the former's rotation speed was slightly faster, naturally creating a dizzying effect, revealing the tension and pressure amidst the chaos.

Then.

Clang.

A noise broke the stalemate, skipping a heartbeat.

The FBI agent, retreating continuously, had nowhere to retreat and bumped into the dining table, causing the room service that Little Frank had ordered yesterday to rattle.

A start.

The atmosphere became even more tense.

Carl, "Hands behind your head! Put your hands..."

Little Frank ignored him completely and continued to walk towards the desk in a counter-clockwise direction—

Right next to the dining table.

Carl followed him around again, so that he stood in front of the camera again.

The whole world was spinning.

Little Frank, "He has more than two hundred checks, a gallon of India ink, and sketches."

Carl was on the verge of losing control, "Hands! Hands! Raise your hands!"

This scene was fresh.

Whether from Anson and Tom's perspective, or from the perspective of the criminal and the agent, it was like "Jerry and Tom," the mouse teasing the cat.

Little Frank was calm, steady, and unhurried. Although he was constantly trying to disrupt the FBI agent's rhythm, he gradually found reason amidst the chaos, his words becoming more and more calm, and his body language also becoming richer.

Carl was tense, anxious, and vigilant. Because the other party refused to cooperate and because of the other party's continuous interruptions, his orders were not carried out, so he kept raising his voice, and finally almost shouted.

This scene was slightly out of place, but it collided with a wonderful humorous effect.

Little Frank, still unmoved, his calmness and composure made Carl look like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, completely ignoring the dark muzzle of the gun, "Even the Pan Am salary envelopes have his own address on them."

Details, here you can see the details again—

His fingertips were trembling slightly.

Little Frank still felt the pressure. He had been trying to change the subject and divert attention, but this FBI agent, although lacking practical experience, was always vigilant and acted in accordance with the regulations, which prevented Little Frank from exploiting loopholes. He needed to turn the situation around.

He needed evidence, evidence to prove his identity.

His lightly trembling fingertips pinched an envelope, instantly displaying explosive force, exposing his true forgery skills, and then presenting the envelope to the FBI agent.

The perfect lie lies in 90% truth and 10% falsehood.

However, Carl still didn't buy it.

"Put it down!"

"Drop it!"

Because Little Frank's movements were becoming more and more tense, fearing that there was a weapon hidden in the envelope, Carl roared hoarsely and angrily, his nerves stretched to the extreme, as if he might pull the trigger at any moment.

What to do?

What to do what to do what to do?

Not only did Little Frank not panic, but he also showed a friendly smile.

"Relax!"

Like a tamer.

Little Frank spread his hands, indicating that he had no weapons, then put his hands down and waved them gently, as if standing in front of him was a Velociraptor, with a calmness that would make any dinosaur tamer ashamed to control the situation.

"Relax!"

Louder and louder, Little Frank suppressed Carl by taking the initiative.

A smile, a confident, calm smile, and maintaining relaxation and elegance, showing Carl his charm.

"You're late."

"I'm Allen, Barry Allen, from the U.S. Secret Service. Your boy just tried to escape out the window, but my partner apprehended him."

Allen, Barry Allen, the Barry Allen from "The Flash," yes, that's right.