From Flower Vase to Film Emperor in Hollywood

“… …Respected passengers, the flight from Amsterdam to New York…”

The announcement echoed through the airport, dragging Karl Rivette from his deep thoughts.

He hurriedly packed up his laptop, preparing to board, but his mind continued to race.

He was in the middle of writing a film review about "Pirates of the Caribbean."

However.

His brain should have been focused on "Pirates of the Caribbean," but his thoughts involuntarily drifted to the works of British director Peter Greenaway.

The images had barely surfaced before he was struck with awe.

Indeed, not all movies are created equal.

At the recently concluded Karlovy Vary International Film Festival, they held a retrospective for this director who dared to challenge visual styles and venture into experimental montage.

Compared to A-list international film festivals like Cannes, the Karlovy Vary International Film Festival, held in a small Czech town, was a B-list event, inferior in many ways.

But Karl appreciated their Peter Greenaway retrospective this year.

This retrospective opened a door for Karl, introducing him to a director he'd heard of but never paid much attention to.

His gains at the Karlovy Vary International Film Festival were in no way inferior to those at Cannes, reaffirming his love for film and making the arduous journey worthwhile.

However, as a new generation film blogger, a completely new form of self-media just emerging in the online world, the disadvantages compared to traditional media were obvious.

Therefore, Karl didn't have the luxury of being picky.

As long as the organizers were willing to invite him and reimburse his travel expenses, he would be there at a moment's notice, cooperating with the organizers as much as possible in the hope of securing more work opportunities.

Whether it was Cannes or Karlovy Vary, they were both invaluable opportunities for Karl.

Having finished his work at Karlovy Vary, Karl was preparing to head to the North American continent—

First to Washington, D.C., where there was a film festival dedicated to documentaries.

Then to Nantucket, Massachusetts, where there was a film festival focused on screenwriting and narrative.

Next was Seattle, which hosted the longest-running film festival in North America, lasting a full three weeks.

Finally, he needed to check the schedule to see if he could make it to the Los Angeles Film Festival.

If not, he would head to Montreal, where there was a film festival dedicated to fantasy, horror, and science fiction.

His schedule was packed.

However, that still wasn't all—

Film festivals were film festivals, mainly focusing on art films, independent films, classic restorations, and special genres, etc.

Commercial films couldn't be neglected either, especially now during the summer blockbuster season, with all sorts of commercial blockbusters hitting the screens.

Karl had to pay attention to them in a timely manner.

Of course, this could also be considered a kind of diversion in his busy work schedule.

Watching art films all day long wasn't easy, and Karl thought that occasionally watching mindless popcorn flicks was good for his mental health.

"Pirates of the Caribbean" was pretty good and worth watching.

Somewhat surprisingly, Johnny Depp's gloomy, eccentric, and darkly charming portrayal actually gave the film a unique touch, revitalizing the otherwise ordinary pirate movie and generating a different kind of appeal.

Karl was just about to turn on his computer and continue working when he realized, a beat too late, that the Washington Film Festival had booked him a business class seat—

A long transatlantic flight, he could get a good night's sleep.

Even so, Karl couldn't help but marvel at the generosity of the film festival organized by the American Film Association.

Accustomed to the cramped and confined seats of economy class, Karl looked around like a country bumpkin visiting the big city, unable to resist examining everything in detail, even ordering a glass of champagne with great interest.

Who would have thought that business class even had a welcome drink?

If he wasn't worried about work later, he might have already started consuming alcohol like crazy.

Sure enough, business class was different.

There was a welcome drink, seats that could be reclined into a bed, ample space for stretching his legs, a specially customized meal menu, a richer and more professional in-flight entertainment system, and he could fly long distances with Anson Wood.

Wait a minute.

Karl froze, his smile lingering at the corner of his mouth, blinking his eyes: Wait, Anson Wood?

What had he just seen?

Was he hallucinating?

Karl slowly, very slowly, turned his head to his left, like the doll with a 360-degree rotating head in "The Exorcist."

That man… he… wait… no way… but… this…

He was wearing a dark gray hoodie, pulling the hood up to cover most of his face, vaguely revealing playful curls peeking out lazily and messily.

The dim light outside the cabin window cast a soft glow, faintly outlining the straight bridge of his nose, casting a small shadow.

Understated, reserved, yet still unable to hide his unique, radiant aura.

Karl's brain completely stopped working, staring blankly at the man in front of him, forgetting his heartbeat, forgetting to breathe, even forgetting his own existence.

How did this happen?

So, was this his imagination?

Just like a child's imaginary friend, he had just been fantasizing about how Anson would play the captain in Pirates of the Caribbean, and then the image he imagined was projected into real life, with Anson actually sitting in the seat next to him?

Was that possible?

Karl held his breath, realizing that his gaze was too intense, like a pervert, which was not good.

Karl quickly shifted his gaze, looking around—

No agent, no assistant, no security, no accompanying personnel, nothing, just Anson alone.

Was that possible?

Karl was a little doubtful, unable to control his suspicion of his own judgment.

Then, after going around and around, his gaze shifted again, landing on that profile.

But this time, worried that his gaze was too strong, Karl surreptitiously peeked out of the corner of his eye.

Could it be an ordinary person who resembled Anson?

No, who could look like Anson!

Moreover, the more he looked, the more he looked like the real person.

Karl trusted his judgment, and a surge of excitement and adrenaline rushed to his head, seizing his throat.

What to do, what to do, what to do, what to do, it really seems to be Anson!