From Flower Vase to Film Emperor in Hollywood

“Cut.”

A shout broke the silence, like a gently flowing stream encountering a reef, suddenly becoming turbulent, the heart unexpectedly losing its rhythm in the chest.

Hurriedly, one or two people shifted their gaze, trying to conceal their embarrassment.

It took them a moment to realize that it was Anson, not themselves who were being observed, who had just appeared in the shot; they had no need to hide, no one was paying attention.

But, what was that feeling of nakedness?

Staring at Anson in front of the camera, it felt as if they were staring at their own softness and vulnerability, inadvertently exposing their innermost thoughts, wishing they could escape.

Both ashamed and nervous, flustered and uneasy, yet unable to look away.

Involuntarily, they turned again, searching for Anson in the crowd.

Found him—

Another NG?

No... could it be?

This thought gripped their throat, their eyes fixed on Gus's movements.

Then, Gus stopped in front of Anson.

Anson didn't react in any particular way.

Despite the interruption, his state remained consistent from on-screen to off-screen; he was still Anson, still that seventeen-year-old adolescent, still immersed in his own restlessness and confusion, carefully concealing his true self.

Gus looked up slightly, gazing at Anson.

He was less than six feet tall (175 cm) and hadn't particularly noticed Anson's height before; but now he suddenly realized Anson was exceptionally tall and straight.

Even though Anson was looking down at him, he could notice Anson slightly tilting his chin to hide the expression in his eyes, his sharply defined features presenting only a flat plane, awkwardly concealing the surging and complicated emotions.

NG?

No, Gus loved it.

To be precise, he loved it very, very much.

Gus loved Anson's state, calm yet turbulent, simple yet complex, a kind of elusive temperament naturally flowing from the inside out.

In Anson's brow, Gus could find the shadow of River Phoenix.

River, the ever-wandering, ever-hesitant River, whose handsome and aloof exterior concealed countless wounds, the unseen pain and sorrow slowly consuming his soul, until he could no longer bear it.

And so, like a phoenix, he was reborn.

Gus didn't understand Anson.

But at least from the current situation, Anson, who had just opened up his career with "Spider-Man", should be riding the crest of success; however, Gus saw loneliness, fragility, hesitation, and unhealed scars in Anson.

Just like River.

Now, Gus finally understood Anson's defensiveness and unease, carefully hiding his true self behind a mask—everything had a reason.

Quietly watching Anson, Gus couldn't help but think of River's ending; the thousands of words swirling on his tongue couldn't find a way to express themselves, an emotion of fear, heartache, and admiration tightly gripping his heart.

Then.

Gus took a step forward and embraced Anson.

He said nothing, because the power of words was insignificant at this moment; he didn't know and didn't need to know what Anson had experienced, that was Anson's story; but it didn't prevent him from giving Anson a warm embrace.

Anson was stunned.

He hadn't anticipated this; the director was hugging him, what did this mean?

Approval? Or comfort?

Anson's body was slightly stiff, standing there blankly and confused, but that warmth made him unable to resist longing.

In his past life's memories, no one had ever hugged him.

Not his father. Nor his mother.

Not before that incident. Even less after he turned twenty-five.

So much so that after coming to this time and space, any hug made him uncomfortable; that intimacy and warmth left him at a loss, unsure how to respond.

And now?

A hug, a hug for the seventeen-year-old, also a hug for the twenty-five-year-old, made Anson even more bewildered, his eyes filled with confusion:

What kind of emotion is this?

Anson was somewhat ignorant.

After thinking for a moment, he gently patted Gus on the back, instead trying to comfort the director.

Gus noticed, he released the embrace, and again looked up to examine Anson, noticing the expression revealed by Anson, and couldn't help but feel a pang of heartache.

Then, Gus said.

“We’ll continue with the next scene.”

No extra words, but this sentence was enough.

Alex hadn't expected a sudden itching in his eyes, and subconsciously raised his hand to rub them, his fingertips touching a trace of moisture, which made him a little embarrassed.

Alex put on an exaggerated smile, trying to hide it, and looked around again, realizing that no one was paying attention to him at all; everyone was immersed in their own thoughts, which reassured him slightly.

But he was still a little uneasy.

Alex bumped Eric's shoulder. “It's still different.”

They, as outsiders, couldn't say exactly how it was different. In Alex's opinion, Anson was still the same Anson, no different from before, and the performance seemed to be the same, but why did the feeling differ even though the filming was exactly the same?

“Heh, it's like watching magic.”

Eric didn't turn his head; he seemed a little lonely and embarrassed.

He read too many emotions in Anson, with no particular thoughts in his mind, but his mood just slowly and quietly settled down.

Only him and his heartbeat.

Just like Anson in the shot just now.

Eric murmured to himself, “Maybe, this is acting.”

But he wasn't sure either, because everything was so real that he couldn't find any traces of acting at all; if it weren't for these cameras and this crew, he would have thought he was seeing himself, that was his daily life.

Alex glanced at Eric, wanting to say something, his mouth mumbled for a moment but didn't make a sound, and finally fell silent.

The atmosphere of the crew was slightly strange.

Impact?

Couldn't say, couldn't say at all.

The filming just now, the performance just now, didn't have anything special at all, just the ordinary daily life of students; Anson didn't have any explosive performances, nor were there any dramatic plots, everything was as plain as water.

However, thoughts and emotions were gradually drawn into it little by little.

Finally, calming down, immersed in their own thoughts.

Listening, feeling, experiencing.

Everything was so simple.

One could vaguely feel the thoughts surging, like a silent roar, everything was silent but surging.

Perhaps, this was the reason why Gus chose such a shooting technique and such a production method, hiding all the storms and complexities under the calm surface of the sea, leaving all the space for thinking to the audience in front of the screen.

It could be 100% certain that not everyone would like this movie, but from the perspective of filmmaking, Gus had taken an important step—

On the basis of “Jerry”, Gus had further explored film, not only deconstructing and reflecting on his way of shooting films, but also a new exploration of the existing filmmaking methods.

Involuntarily, it made people think of the Dogme 95 movement initiated by the four Danish directors.