From Flower Vase to Film Emperor in Hollywood

“Three, two, one, action.”

Mr. Aziki was full of impatience, like a flea, unable to stay still.

“Please, someone ordered a pizza twenty-one minutes ago.”

He didn't even bother to glance at Peter, turning and entering the pizza shop, babbling on and on to himself, a fire of anger burning in his chest.

“Hammington, Burton \u0026 Smith Law Firm, eight pan pizzas, supreme flavor…”

He only got halfway through the sentence when he turned his head and saw the two Italians making pizza, hardly believing his eyes, and his temper instantly erupted.

“Gibberish… @ #%\u0026 $ blah…”

A string of Indian words, whistling past, his already tongue-rolling, curry-flavored English now simply switched to an alien language.

The Italian behind the counter, busy with work, didn't back down, gesturing and roaring back, “I told you, I don't understand that language.”

“Speak English!”

Mr. Aziki also retorted fiercely, “Damn it, you can't make pizza.”

“I can't make pizza? I've been making pizza for five years.”

“Shut up!” Mr. Aziki shouted at the Italian without mercy, the angry bull pacing back and forth in the palm-sized pizza shop.

On the side, a bystander was enjoying his pizza, a slice in his mouth, right hand pulling at it, the cheese stretching long and thin but refusing to break, his eyeballs rolling around, moving quickly back and forth between Mr. Aziki and Peter.

In a short second, his eyeballs must have moved seven, eight, or ninety times, unable to hide his excitement.

Mr. Aziki's attention was clearly not on the bystander; he strode around behind the counter and patted the sign hanging on the inner side of the restaurant—

“Joe's Pizza: Guaranteed Delivery in Twenty-Nine Minutes”.

Mr. Aziki continued to complain, muttering, “If it's not delivered within eight minutes, it'll exceed the twenty-nine-minute delivery guarantee, and then not only will I not get paid, but this big client will also be snatched away by 'Yolte's Pizza'.”

Peter stood in front of the counter, looking tired, taking a deep breath to calm himself, “Why don't you send Salim?”

Mr. Aziki, “Salim was fired yesterday.”

Peter: …

Mr. Aziki was about to continue speaking, but was interrupted, “Excuse me, where's my cheese pizza?”

“Him, 'Little Smile'.” Mr. Aziki pointed to the Italian behind him without turning his head, shouting in a lion's roar, not even glancing at the customer, and continued to look at Peter, who looked as if he had lost the will to live, “I'm counting on you now, okay?”

“You must deliver on time.”

Taking a deep breath, Mr. Aziki tried to force a kind smile, but it looked evil no matter how you looked at it, like an evil elf from a cartoon, “Peter, you're a good person, but unreliable. This is your last chance.”

Peter was shocked.

Mr. Aziki was merciless, “You must cross forty-two blocks in seven and a half minutes to get there, or you're fired.”

Peter froze, trying to argue for himself, but found that his thoughts and voice were all stuck.

The bystander's eyebrows were dancing, using his tongue to roll the cheese into his mouth like an anteater eating ants, his expression particularly rich.

Mr. Aziki stared blankly at Peter, turned around and lifted a high stack of pizza boxes and placed them on the counter.

Bang.

Then, he pushed the pizzas forward, and the two of them looked at each other, Mr. Aziki raising the corners of his mouth in a non-smiling, emotionless smile, but finding that Peter didn't react, his face fell the next second, and he roared like a lion.

“Go!”

Half a beat late, Peter finally regained a trace of reason in the midst of the storm: keep the job.

He grabbed the pizza box and rushed out of the pizza shop in a puff of smoke.

Snap.

The bystander's cheese pull finally broke, and he froze in place.

“Cut!”

Sam interrupted the filming.

This time, before Sam could speak, someone in the crew couldn't control themselves.

Pfft.

A laugh burst out, and then the rustling laughter spread throughout the crew in the blink of an eye.

Comedy, this is one hundred percent comedy.

Whether it was Asif's rhythmic tone, the crackling curry accent almost incomprehensible, the pure natural comedic sense paired with the small expressions of rolling his eyes and muttering to himself, the comedic sense was perfect; or Anson's somewhat cartoonish reactions, both expression and body language had some comical feel; plus the particularly scene-stealing bystander, the incredible timing coordination, made the chemical reaction of the scene in front of them explode in full.

Too funny!

Sam looked at the crew in astonishment, looking left and right, and finally couldn't control himself, the tightness of the corners of his mouth also relaxed.

The chemical reaction of this scene was completely unexpected.

Asif deserves applause, completely without the stumbling appearance just now, everything from the lines to the accent to the expression was perfect, the deeply "annoying" acting was too superb, the cartoon performance texture inadvertently revealed, not exaggerated or artificial, but brought out some humor.

Moreover, with such a long string of lines, the focus of the whole scene fell on Asif's shoulders, and as a result, Asif completed it in one go, without a single snag—

No wonder Anson suggested filming this scene later, Asif was clearly entering a state.

Sam liked Asif's micro-expressions, difficult to describe in words, but vivid and lifelike, more direct than the lines, extracting the image of a boss.

Sam thought for a while and communicated with the pizza shop through the walkie-talkie, because he was behind the monitor at this time, the monitor being placed behind the corner of the street intersection, away from the camera lens, making communication difficult even by shouting.

“Excellent.” Sam said, then thought for a moment, “Asif…”

Asif's heart tightened suddenly, and he couldn't help holding his breath, swallowing a mouthful of saliva, but found his throat terribly dry.

“Wonderful performance.” Sam's words made Asif clench his fist, exhaling a long breath, but not knowing how to express himself, he finally just honestly said, “No problem.” He paused, “Thank you, director.”

Sam also paused, his thoughts surging, “You should thank Anson.”

Asif quickly looked at Anson, silently mouthing, “Thank you.”

Anson returned a smile.

Sam continued, “Anson… everything is very good, just follow your own understanding; next, we'll shoot it again, and then take some close-ups, Anson, the close-ups are mainly on you, let the audience see our Spider-Man.”

Rarely, Sam actually made a small joke?