From Flower Vase to Film Emperor in Hollywood

Initially, including Steven himself, it was widely believed that Anson was just a vase, a model, a shell responsible for showcasing Little Frank Abagnale's different images and attracting the audience with his male charm. His ability to handle different styles with a unique temperament was the main reason Steven decided to cast him.

However, what about now?

How much of that original intention remains?

From acting to charm, from details to aura, Anson has brought one surprise after another. The film is still in the first half of shooting, but he has already created a radiant screen image, even overshadowing Tom Hanks.

As a director, what more could he ask for?

Implicitly, Steven was looking forward to "Spider-Man" --

Yes, not "Catch Me If You Can", but "Spider-Man".

Steven was very curious about what kind of screen charm Anson's Spider-Man could show. Undoubtedly, this was an unboxing opportunity full of surprises.

This young actor is about to shine on the big screen with a meteoric rise, and Steven has 100% confidence in him. He can't wait to witness it.

In an instant, just a brief instant, his mind was surging with thoughts, but in reality, the eye contact between Anson and Tom on the screen was only momentary.

Then.

With a turn, Little Frank hugged his typewriter and continued to stride forward.

One step.

Out the door.

Finally, Little Frank left the room, escaping with his life.

And what about Carl?

Now, Carl was finally alone in the room. This white-collar crime investigator, who sits in the office every day, also relaxed.

Huff, huff.

Finally, he could catch his breath.

The whole process was tense, full of crisis, and everything happened so fast that he even forgot to breathe. Only now did he feel the burst of lactic acid secretion, his knees trembling slightly, almost losing his balance.

Bending over to support his knees, his calf weakened, and he took a small step back. He quickly grabbed the bed to control himself.

He sat down on the end of the bed, pulled up his hat, and his forehead was covered with a dense layer of sweat. He let out a long breath, finally calming down a little.

"Heh heh."

Recalling the whole process, it was somewhat absurd and somewhat fortunate. Thinking that the criminal suspect had been caught, Carl, who was always serious, also appeared a little simple and honest, chuckling.

"Heh heh."

After carefully pondering it, a satisfied expression was revealed.

But he still couldn't believe it.

"Special Affairs Bureau?"

Wait... wait.

Something seemed a little off, but he couldn't say exactly what was wrong. Was he just being paranoid?

His brain was still a mess due to lack of oxygen, and he couldn't think rationally. It was just a direct feeling, as if guided by a ghost, he opened the button.

Snap.

This time, with the help of both hands, things were much simpler, and it opened smoothly.

The smoothness made him pause slightly, stopping for a moment, like the tension and anticipation before opening Pandora's box, and then he sped up his movements.

Open the wallet.

-- What?

Advertising. Plastic seal. Newspaper. Discount coupons.

Inside, all were waste paper. All.

No ID, no driver's license, no credit card.

Carl panicked.

His fingers were busy, emptying the entire wallet layer by layer, but still with no gain. He suddenly looked up and surveyed the room, and then finally realized it.

He now realized the abnormality --

Labels.

On the table, there was hotel room service tableware, but the packaging outside the ketchup, Coca-Cola, juice, champagne, peanut butter, and other bottles and cans had all been torn off.

He had been wondering just now, always feeling that something was wrong. Now the answer was revealed: those torn-off outer packaging were all neatly folded and stuffed into the wallet.

Damn it.

Damn it!

Damn damn damn damn.

Carl emptied the entire wallet, his heart sinking heavily, finally feeling the impact of free fall. He scanned the room:

Crap.

Immediately, Carl jumped up and rushed to the window, trying to find the vehicle that had just detained the criminal suspect, but when he opened the curtains, he saw him.

Barry Allen.

"Barry" was jogging all the way, looking back at the window, noticing Carl's figure. Without hesitation, he quickened his pace, rushed to a car on the side of the road, pulled the door open, and got in.

Carl: Stared!

"Hey!"

Carl shouted loudly, but the other party ignored him completely, got into the car nimbly, started the engine, and drove away.

Reflexively, Carl prepared to jump out of the window, but when his hands supported the window frame, he found that his clumsy movements couldn't climb up at all. Even though it was only the second floor, it was still too difficult for him.

Realizing this, Carl went crazy, completely crazy --

Watching "Barry's" vehicle leave his sight.

"Oh, damn it!"

The string of reason snapped, and Carl threw the wallet out fiercely, frustrated and angry.

"Cut!"

It's over, finally over.

This time, without even waiting for Steven's further instructions, the filming set could no longer suppress the commotion. One by one, they raised their hands:

Roar, roar roar roar.

Cheers, jeers, mixed with whistles, like a party, the entire motel was lively and extraordinary, spreading from the first floor to the second floor, and then from the second floor to the first floor.

Noise, carnival.

Compared to any words, this kind of reaction was the most real and the most direct.

Permeating the whole venue.

Steven stood up from behind the monitor, just about to speak, but was surrounded by the boiling of the entire scene. The words were swallowed back, and he stood there blankly, with a hint of helplessness in his expression --

Liking it is one thing; having the shooting plan interrupted and losing control of the set are another.

But this time, Steven didn't interrupt. The smile on the corner of his mouth lifted slightly, and he walked straight towards Anson on the first floor.

This scene was indeed very special.

Anson was a little more introverted than usual, and Tom was a little more flamboyant than usual. Both actors were adjusting and running in, which was also an important reason for the previous several NGs. They were looking for a suitable state in the scene, constantly adjusting according to the opponent's frequency, trying to achieve a fit.

This was the correct way to open a scene. You can't just ask one party to adjust, and you can't just ask one party to change. Only when the two actors fit together and run in can they find the right frequency, spark a spark, and let the performance burst out a chemical reaction of one plus one greater than two.

This kind of adjustment is not easy.

Not to mention Anson, even a veteran actor like Tom needs to try repeatedly.

So, in the end, the two images presented on the screen were that Anson didn't look like Anson, and Tom didn't look like Tom. The misalignment of the performance frequency created a different kind of comedy effect --

Right on the mark.

From the beginning, Steven wanted to make the film a colorful entertainment work. There was no need to be bitter and hateful, and there was no need to be dark and gloomy.

Now, they are on the right path.

However, the on-site staff and actors were not sure, and their eyes all fell on Steven.

He kept watching Steven, stopping in front of Anson.

"Thumbs up."

"Steven gave Anson a thumbs up, and even two thumbs up."

Boom!

The scene was filled with applause.