From Flower Vase to Film Emperor in Hollywood

Dizziness, lightheadedness, the world spinning.

The giant screen was like a vortex, sucking the entire audience in, drawn into the storm along with the story.

In this narrative, Steven Spielberg once again demonstrates his unparalleled direction, editing, and pacing, delivering an outstanding directorial performance—

Two lines progressing in parallel, cross-cutting, advancing simultaneously.

On one side, the FBI agents led by Carl tightening their encirclement.

At the engagement party, toasts were exchanged, and the atmosphere was harmonious, completely unaware of the abnormality, but Carl was closing in step by step, constantly shrinking the perimeter.

On the other side, Little Frank was frantically preparing to escape.

Brenda plummeted from joy and happiness to confusion and sorrow in an instant, tears streaming down her face, filled with fear and unease, which intertwined with Little Frank's haste and tension, seeming to clearly convey the suffocating pressure, silently gripping both of their throats.

Calm and tension.

Stealth and chaos.

The switching of shots, the connection of rhythms, the collision of scenes, formed a massive vortex, the oppressive tension quietly spreading, the entire screening room drawn into it.

No one was exempt, no one.

Until—

"Frank, please, tell me your name before you go. Please tell me."

Brenda was in tears, heartbroken, clutching Little Frank's arm tightly, the lace curtains on the windowsill were whipped wildly by the wind, constantly slapping Brenda and Little Frank's cheeks, the shadows cast by the moonlight swirling on their young faces.

Instantly, Melvin's heart also stopped beating, watching Little Frank, watching Brenda reflected in Little Frank's pupils, holding his breath.

This time, would he tell the truth?

"Little Frank William Abagnale."

He spoke.

No longer a lie.

The entire screening room was completely still, but hearts uncontrollably began to freefall from a great height—

So, everything was real.

Little Frank really loved Brenda, what Little Frank said to Mr. Strong was all true, Little Frank really wanted to settle down and start a family, all that loneliness and solitude, all that bitterness and loss were real.

However.

It could never be realized.

Now, Melvin finally understood the conversation between Old Frank and Little Frank in the bar, Little Frank wanted his father to stop him, but Old Frank told Little Frank not to stop.

At that moment, Little Frank finally understood that his initial escape was to save his family and return to his family; but he embarked on a wrong path, and could never go back, not only had the Abagnale family become a thing of the past, but he had also ruined the possibility of him and Brenda starting a family.

Thus.

He turned and fled, distraught and stumbling.

Like a stray dog.

So, what could he do?

Escape.

Continue to escape.

Involuntarily, Melvin closed his eyes.

He knew that Little Frank was a criminal, deserving of his punishment, and could even be said to have created his own tragedy, he shouldn't sympathize with Little Frank.

But at this moment, the sadness, the sighs were all real.

A kind of indescribable bitterness permeated the entire screening room.

Two days later, Little Frank appeared at Miami International Airport, and immediately spotted Brenda in her pink suit, standing weakly and helplessly at the entrance, looking around, waiting for her lover to appear.

Little Frank was excited, opened the car door and prepared to go forward, but sensed something was wrong, and immediately became alert, quickly scanning and assessing his surroundings.

Then, Little Frank determined that the FBI had laid a trap here, just waiting for him to walk into it.

Little Frank got back into the car, and just like that, brushed past Brenda.

The FBI agents believed that Little Frank, having sensed the abnormality, would not show up; but Carl didn't think so, he firmly believed that Little Frank would leave the United States.

And, that he would leave from Miami International Airport.

"How do you know he won't rent a car and go to airports in New York or Atlanta?" An agent raised an objection.

Carl, "Because I'm not in New York, and I'm not in Atlanta."

This time, Carl's judgment was accurate again, Little Frank was indeed preparing to leave from Miami International Airport; at the same time, the FBI had deployed more than a hundred agents around the airport, monitoring it around the clock, and as long as Little Frank appeared, he would not be able to escape their eyes.

What to do?

Little Frank once again used his intelligence.

He went to an all-girls high school as a pilot to give a recruitment speech for Pan American Airlines, and under the guise of a 'experience flight attendant life' project, actually conducted interviews at the all-girls high school, and finally selected eight girls of varying shapes and sizes, dressing them in flight attendant uniforms—

Blatantly appearing at Miami International Airport.

The group passed right in front of the FBI agents, whose attention was completely on the beautiful girls, completely oblivious to Little Frank.

"Do you know why the Yankees always win?"

The dialogue surfaced in Melvin's mind again.

At the same time, the FBI agents were monitoring the vehicles around the airport, and someone noticed something was wrong, and notified Carl immediately, and Carl rushed over with the agents.

But.

A diversion.

"Don't shoot, I'm just a driver. Someone gave me a hundred dollars to put on this uniform and pick someone up at the airport."

A strange boy in a pilot's uniform raised his hands high, his voice trembling, his knees shaking.

Carl was instantly furious, "Who are you picking up?"

The boy obediently took a sign out of the passenger seat, "Hanratty."

The FBI agents had been completely fooled, Little Frank had once again escaped successfully, and had left the United States.

And, had completely disappeared for seven months.

The FBI finally received news again, South America, Australia, Singapore, Egypt, Little Frank's footprints were all over different corners of the world.

This time, Little Frank continued to upgrade—

The FBI and the banks hadn't noticed anything unusual for more than half a year, the root cause was that Little Frank hadn't forged checks this time, but had produced real checks, because they were too perfect, so perfect that neither the airlines nor the banks could identify them.

The last check cashed was in Madrid.

Carl tried to go to Spain to continue pursuing Little Frank, but the FBI didn't agree, whether it was funding or cross-border operations, they weren't allowed to act.

Carl's request was rejected.

Despite this, Carl still didn't give up, after investigation, starting from the ink, the printer, and so on, and seeking help from a group of veteran experts, he finally found clues, confirming that such checks were very likely to have been produced in Germany, England, or France.

Carl had a flash of inspiration, Little Frank's mother, came from a small village in France—

Montsoreau.

So, Carl went to the small village of Montsoreau in southern France, and found an old-fashioned printing factory.

Although it was late at night, the machines inside the factory were running at full speed, a busy scene.

Carl pressed the switch, stopping all the machines, countless checks flying everywhere, a busy figure hurriedly stood up, bathed in the amber light, like an ancient Greek god.

"Carl!"

It was Little Frank.