1001-1005

*Chapter 1001: Duck Paddling Underwater*

"Sorry, there are two more water bottles here. Please wait a moment."

A voice came through, and Harry felt his hair stand on end, instantly holding his breath.

Anson!

Harry was 100% sure that this was Anson's voice.

A chill ran down his spine as memories he had buried came rushing back. His first encounter with Anson had been on the set of Spider-Man.

Back then, it was also during a costume shoot for the Spider-Man suit. Harry had to hide in a cramped trailer wardrobe, curled up pitifully into a tiny box, only to be found by Anson, becoming the laughingstock of the day.

The details of that evening had faded from Harry's memory, but the tension, the absurdity, the shame, and the frustration were still fresh.

And now, all of it was coming back.

Thump, thump, thump.

His temples throbbed, and Harry thought his PTSD was about to kick in.

Every time he faced Anson, he always seemed to lose his ground, becoming dizzy and disoriented, reminded of how helpless he was under Anson's influence. His knees almost gave out at the thought.

"What's wrong? Are you okay? You're trembling," Anson noticed.

Harry: ... No, I’m not!

"It’s just the air conditioning…" Harry managed to squeeze out a bit of sound from his throat.

Anson didn’t think much of it. "Oh, right. You have to be careful. Going from outdoor to indoor or vice versa, that temperature change can make you sick."

Then James' voice came from the back, "Sick? What are you talking about? Is this some new theory?"

Luckily, James caught Anson’s attention, unintentionally saving Harry from further embarrassment.

Noticing Anson’s focus shift, Harry’s legs felt like noodles—he could barely stand.

Was he really that terrifying?

Heh.

If anyone doubted it, Harry would challenge them to try standing in Anson’s presence. It was easy to talk, but until you experienced it yourself, you had no idea.

Though every cell in Harry's body screamed to run away, he knew he couldn’t. If he left now, Anson might pick up on it.

He needed to stay calm—at least appear calm.

"Air conditioning sickness. Think about it, going from cold to hot or hot to cold. Your body needs time to adjust. Maybe we should raise the temperature a bit. It’s really too low right now."

"It’s all for you. You're wearing that tight suit. Aren’t you hot?"

"Not at all. You want to try it?" Anson joked.

Harry quietly lifted his head and caught sight of James making a disgusted face, twisting as if revolted. The whole group burst into laughter, and even Anson seemed a bit flustered.

Yes, flustered.

Anson was indeed wearing the Spider-Man suit that everyone was curious about. In the rush of the moment, Harry hadn’t had time to inspect the hundred little details of the suit's changes—his attention was entirely on Anson.

At the moment, Anson wasn’t wearing the mask. The Spider-Man suit, like a wetsuit, had been peeled down halfway, with the sleeves tied around his waist. His upper half was covered only by a white T-shirt, soaked through with sweat. His hair was wet and messy, looking as if he had just been pulled out of water.

He was even steaming—literally, there was steam coming off him.

It didn’t take words to understand how hot Anson felt. The set’s air conditioning was clearly struggling to cool him down.

Harry couldn’t imagine how uncomfortable Anson must have been, but he figured if he had to wear a wetsuit on land, moving around constantly, it wouldn’t be pleasant either—and this suit was probably even worse than that.

Quickly looking away, Harry pushed his trash bin forward.

Anyway, the suit wasn’t fully revealed yet. Anson wasn’t fully ready, so there was no rush for now.

But what if they hadn’t started filming by the time he finished his job?

Harry’s brain raced.

Meanwhile, Anson didn’t seem to notice anything wrong, since all his attention was on the discomfort of the suit.

Actors in superhero films had often mentioned how different their costumes felt in real life compared to how they looked on screen. It wasn’t just hard to fight in them—they were downright restrictive.

On the surface, superhero suits looked sleek and stylish, and everyone dreamed of wearing their own suit. Every Halloween, kids and even adults dressed up as superheroes. It wasn’t just about the mask—a full suit made them the coolest on the block.

But in reality, it was a nightmare. Beyond looking cool, the suits were entirely useless, perfectly illustrating the phrase "all show, no go." Like a duck paddling underwater—calm on the surface, but furiously paddling underneath just to stay afloat.

And Anson was no exception.

He had thought that after filming Spider-Man, he would have some experience. This time around, with the sequel, he should have been more comfortable. But nope.

Even with improvements to the suit, it didn’t get any easier. If anything, it became more unbearable—a true testament to how much suffering it inflicted.

"Anson, are you sure? Drinking so much water might send you straight to the bathroom again," Kristen said, grimacing sympathetically as if she could feel his discomfort.

Anson shrugged. "I’m sweating so much. If I don’t stay hydrated, I don’t know which will come first—dehydration or the need to, you know..."

Everyone burst out laughing.

Alfred asked curiously, "With that suit, how do you even use the bathroom?"

Anson mimed pulling the suit all the way down. "You pull it all the way off."

"All the way?" Alfred asked, incredulous.

Anson nodded. "All the way."

Alfred: ...

Anson nodded again, confirming Alfred’s worst fears. "The picture in your head is accurate. When I show up in the bathroom, it's pretty humiliating. I really wish I had full privacy."

The room: ...

Anson spread his hands, scanning the room. "Are you all picturing it now? Naughty, naughty."

Laughter erupted once again.

People looked away, avoiding eye contact. Even those who hadn’t been paying attention were now glancing elsewhere, feeling awkward.

Except for James, who looked Anson up and down, joking, "Oh, I bet all the ladies are crushed now."

Anson wasn’t fazed. He patted James on the shoulder. "Don’t worry, you'll join the club soon enough. William said the Green Goblin costume is basically armor. Armor. Once you’re in it, no girl’s gonna be shouting ‘James, James!’ anymore."

It took James a moment to remember that the Green Goblin also had a tight suit.

"Oh no..." James groaned, holding his head in despair.

Nearby, Alfred noticed the others' glances. He patted his large beer belly and said, "They really had a tough time with me. In the end, they let me off the hook because they were worried that if I wore a tight suit, I’d look like a manatee. Not sexy, not funny. So they spared me."

A manatee?

The image was too vivid, and everyone, including Anson, couldn’t help but laugh.

Alfred didn’t mind. "Go ahead, laugh. It doesn’t bother me. Even my wife wouldn’t be able to keep loving me if I looked like that."

The room exploded with laughter.

*Chapter 1002: Blending Reality and Fiction*

By logic, even villains need costumes—that's one of the hallmarks of superhero comics.

Though people have long mocked Superman's skin-tight outfit, they also can't deny that his look is deeply ingrained in popular culture. Even after the redesign in Man of Steel, the iconic underwear-on-the-outside look remains a staple of superhero imagery. The superhero costume has become a crucial part of the genre.

However, not everyone suits the skin-tight look.

Alfred, for example, doesn’t. Not only is he pear-shaped, but his short, stocky proportions look even more awkward in a tight suit.

In the end, Doctor Octopus’ look didn’t feature a special skin-tight costume. Instead, the production team designed a trench coat ensemble for him. The long lines helped conceal his pudgy, slouched frame while still presenting the villain's imposing presence.

At least from a story perspective, Doctor Octopus’ mutation was an accident, and he never intended to become an evil villain, so he didn’t prepare or need a special costume.

With a goofy expression, Alfred raised his hands in mock surrender, “Thank God, otherwise I don’t know if I could work comfortably; but I’m 100% sure you guys wouldn’t.”

Laughter erupted again.

James, always the joker, immediately covered his eyes like Phoebe from Friends, yelling, “My eyes! My eyes!”

The atmosphere was exceptionally lighthearted.

That is, until a staff member interrupted their post-lunch banter, “Anson, sorry to interrupt. We need to confirm the route, camera placements, and motion paths.”

Anson nodded crisply, “No problem.”

Work resumed.

In the New Jersey studio, the Spider-Man 2 crew was preparing to shoot what was arguably the movie’s most spectacular and meticulously designed sequence by Sam Raimi:

The train battle.

Typically, the final battle in the third act serves as a movie’s climax, and Spider-Man 2 needed to design such a scene. But it also had to differentiate itself from the first film, offering a new style and texture.

At the time, Hollywood sequels often faced a common trap: they had to be bigger and more extravagant. As a result, superhero movies would often follow a progression where the first film saves a city, the second film saves the planet, and the third film saves the universe—until the stories ran out of room to grow.

Naturally, Sony-Columbia expected this too. The sequel needed to take it up a notch.

But Sam had a slightly different opinion.

What made Spider-Man special was that he was a city hero with a strong New York identity. He was the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. If the scope of the action kept expanding, it would lose its uniqueness.

After careful consideration, Sam decided to balance Sony-Columbia’s ambitions with his own vision. The final battle would feature primarily visual effects—Hollywood’s beloved big explosions and a city-saving scenario to appease the studio’s desire for grandeur.

At the same time, Sam chose to bring the visceral, close-quarters combat between the hero and villain forward, framing it as a precursor to the ultimate battle. This clash would take place on an ordinary city train, offering a grounded, intimate showdown between Spider-Man and Doctor Octopus.

In Sam’s view, all the explosions, gunfights, and high-tech battles were exciting but ultimately felt cold and lacked a sense of reality or bloodshed. While the spectacle might pin audiences to their seats, nothing could make them feel more alive than close-range combat.

This was Sam’s passion—the horror movie director still couldn’t abandon his love for blood and gore.

Sam was so excited that he not only designed the overall story but also storyboarded the fight scenes and confrontations down to the finest details.

It’s no exaggeration to say that this was Sam’s biggest motivation for making the sequel.

For him, this was the real climax.

Because of this, Sam decided to shoot the scene early in production, right after the film began. He wanted to capture it while the cast and crew were still fresh and energized, avoiding the fatigue that could set in later from the long shooting schedule.

Ten days into filming, the crew arrived at the New Jersey studio to film one of the movie’s final major sequences—

This is cinema.

In this sequence, Doctor Octopus, driven mad by his experiment, needs to obtain a rare element called tritium from a corporation controlled by Harry Osborn. In exchange, Harry demands that Doctor Octopus bring him Spider-Man.

Unable to locate Spider-Man, Doctor Octopus kidnaps Mary Jane, who was about to confess her feelings to Peter, forcing Peter to summon Spider-Man for the exchange.

Spider-Man then appears.

The battle between Spider-Man and Doctor Octopus spans from New York’s skyscrapers to a speeding train, drawing ordinary passengers into the fray.

Blinded by rage, Doctor Octopus recklessly uses the innocent passengers as weapons, while Spider-Man, unwilling to let anyone die, is caught in a difficult situation.

This scene was undoubtedly a massive challenge to film. It involved blending reality and fiction, seamlessly combining real stunts with computer-generated effects. Actors had to perform many of the stunts themselves, while professional stunt doubles handled the more dangerous parts.

In the film, Doctor Octopus has four mechanical arms mounted on his back. These extra limbs give him a significant advantage over Spider-Man during their fight.

In reality, though, the crew couldn’t create functional, highly maneuverable mechanical arms, nor could they rely entirely on CGI. The mechanical arms had to interact with Spider-Man—grabbing him, controlling him, even attacking him. Without any physical contact, it would be difficult for the actors to convincingly react.

Anson joked, “I can try, but I don’t think I can fool anyone.”

Although Hollywood’s CGI technology had evolved significantly by 2003, offering the ability to create near-realistic visuals, it wasn’t fully mature yet. There was still room for improvement.

Looking back a decade later, you can spot the rough edges and imperfections in Spider-Man 2’s special effects. The overall plastic feel lingers, clearly lagging behind the CGI masterpieces that came later.

In other words, CGI in 2003 wasn’t yet capable of creating entirely believable scenes from scratch, and delivering a perfect cinematic experience.

Thus, blending reality and fiction for this sequence—merging practical filming with CGI—became a significant challenge for the production team.

*Chapter 1003: Going Into Battle Personally*

Without a doubt, the filming of Spider-Man 2 presented a challenge for the entire crew—props, sets, stunts, CGI, and actors alike.

Sam Raimi had envisioned a grand and thrilling fight scene. Everyone on set believed that, once filmed, it would absolutely shock audiences. The question was, how to film it? How to turn imagination into reality? How to accomplish the impossible on screen?

This is precisely a hallmark of Hollywood's mastery of genre films: they consistently find ways to turn dreams into reality and complete seemingly impossible tasks.

"Anson, are you sure?" Alfred looked at Anson, unable to hide his concern.

Actually, Spider-Man wears a mask throughout the entire movie, so the audience wouldn’t even see his face. With the fight scenes enhanced by CGI, it would be hard to tell who’s performing. Using a stunt double for these scenes would not be a problem at all.

However, Anson insisted on doing many of the stunts himself, completing them within his capabilities, leaving only the most difficult moves to professionals.

Alfred was genuinely surprised by this decision.

"If I didn’t need to show my face all the time, I definitely wouldn’t want to be here suffering," Alfred grumbled.

Doctor Octopus also had a stunt double, but the issue was that he didn’t wear a mask, so his face was often exposed. That meant Alfred had to do most of the scenes himself.

Fortunately for him, Doctor Octopus is a rather clumsy character, and the real challenge was with his mechanical arms, not Alfred's physical dexterity.

Anson laughed, "I guess that's just the price of being an actor, right? When you're holding a multi-million-dollar paycheck, you can't just sit on the sidelines and let the people earning a fraction of that rush into danger."

Alfred chuckled, a glint of appreciation in his eyes, but he still teased, "Multi-million? It’s probably more than that."

Anson shrugged. "So that means I have to be even more dedicated."

"Haha," Alfred laughed. "Not all actors are like that."

"Cough cough Johnny Depp cough cough," A nearby stuntman, preparing for the next scene, fake-coughed, throwing in his own sly jab.

When both Anson and Alfred turned to look, the stuntman put on an innocent face, acting as if nothing had happened.

Anson chuckled, "See? This is exactly what I want to avoid. Besides, the director also prefers that I do my own stunts. Even though my face isn't visible, my body shape, movements, and habits are still different."

"That’s why I took professional martial arts training."

"You agree, right, director?" Anson called out toward the monitors.

Sam Raimi, caught off guard, started coughing as he choked on his own saliva.

Whether he wanted to admit it or not, the fact was that Sam had been extremely demanding from the very first movie in the series. It wasn’t about being picky or having special requirements—it was simply about achieving the best possible results for the film. He wanted the movie to meet his exacting standards.

This time, with even more pressure bearing down, Sam’s expectations had become stricter and more exacting. He had been meticulously planning this key fight scene since they were on the New York set, rehearsing every detail to ensure perfection.

Though Sam hadn’t explicitly said it, his attitude was clear—

He wanted Anson to personally perform the main action sequences.

There was something different about the way a trained actor carries themselves—posture, habits, and the overall physicality. Plus, these fight scenes were also a form of acting, conveying Spider-Man’s urgency, anxiety, struggle, and pain through body language. Anson naturally possessed an aura unique to him, and Sam needed that to fully immerse him in the role of Peter Parker.

It wasn’t just about doing his own stunts—it was about giving it his all.

Now that Anson had pointed this out, Sam couldn’t help but look a little embarrassed.

After clearing his throat, Sam said in a low voice, "That paycheck might be even bigger than you think."

The crew burst out laughing.

Anson, the target of their teasing, didn’t mind. He raised his hands in surrender and calmly responded, "Looks like today’s 100% effort won’t cut it. I’ll need to give at least 120%, for the sake of that paycheck."

More laughter erupted across the set.

With a steady demeanor, Anson turned to the two stuntmen standing next to Alfred. "To make sure the shoot goes smoothly, should we practice the sequence one more time? Feel free to push me a little harder."

The atmosphere on set remained light and lively.

So, how exactly would the "Spider-Man vs. Doctor Octopus" scene be filmed?

The answer was a combination of practical effects and CGI.

At that moment, Alfred was wearing a harness-like contraption, with suction cups attached to his back, extending into mechanical tentacles with a metallic appearance—purely props.

The material was lightweight; even a child could lift the tentacles. This allowed Alfred to move freely without being encumbered by the equipment, ensuring his performance wasn’t hindered.

Meanwhile, the tentacles could retract and extend to simulate real metal limbs. The difference was that two stuntmen, dressed entirely in green suits, controlled them. The green suits would later be edited out during post-production.

The two stuntmen stood on either side of Alfred, each controlling two of the tentacles, creating the illusion that Anson was battling a "three-headed, six-armed" opponent.

The key to pulling this off was perfect coordination between all four people—Anson, Alfred, and the two stunt operators. They had to work together to bring this fight scene to life.

This involved filming wide shots and close-ups.

For close-ups, only one tentacle would be operated at a time, and the camera would focus on capturing the intense details of the face-to-face combat, ensuring every move was framed perfectly.

In other words, the director needed to have a clear vision of the choreography and pacing to capture the right shots.

It wasn’t just the actors—props, camera crew, and the CGI team were all on standby to ensure the footage met the high standards expected.

Clearly, this approach was entirely different from that of The Elephant.

Yet the process was strikingly similar. Whether it was The Elephant or the Spider-Man 2 crew, it all required rehearsals, coordination, and the entire team working in sync.

Anson was no stranger to this.

Rehearsing again and again, over and over, the actors had to synchronize with each other, but even more importantly, they had to coordinate with the camera movements.

In real life, sprinting full speed is exactly that—running as fast as possible. But in the world of film, "full speed" has to be carefully controlled, because the actor and the camera need to work in harmony. That’s the only way to deliver the perfect shot.

After multiple rehearsals, the crew was finally ready.

Now, it was time to go into battle.

"Action!"

Chapter 1004: Three Heads, Six Arms

"Cut!"

Sam paused the filming again, looking at the actors with a hint of frustration. After a moment of hesitation, he decided to remain silent, closing his mouth and keeping his thoughts to himself.

Sam understood how difficult this scene was to shoot. They had meticulously planned every aspect, running through the entire sequence on paper. But as usual, there was a gap between theory and practice. The actual filming process was proving more challenging than anticipated, with unexpected issues and disruptions in the acting rhythm, requiring more time to work through.

This was already the fourteenth "NG" (No Good), and even Sam couldn't help but feel a bit impatient.

Once again, the problem was coordination. Four actors were engaged in a fight on top of a train model, and due to the complexity of the scene, every department's efforts had to be perfectly synchronized. Yet, the four actors still struggled to keep their movements in harmony, making the action sequence appear disjointed and lacking fluidity.

In short, it didn’t look good.

For a commercial film, it’s forgivable if there’s no depth or theme, but a lack of excitement and adrenaline during the climactic scenes can be fatal.

Sam needed the intensity and excitement of the scene to be palpable.

Taking a deep breath, Sam managed to maintain his composure, reminding himself:

The actors were the ones who were truly working hard. The longer the shoot dragged on, the more drained they would become. However, Anson and Alfred had shown no signs of complaint, continuing to focus on communication and staying dedicated to their roles.

It wasn’t just the actors; the rest of the crew were also sweating profusely, their faces flushed as they stayed tightly wound and alert, unable to relax for even a moment.

So, at the very least, Sam could stay calm and not let his emotions cloud his judgment.

After all, as the director, he was responsible for setting the tone of the entire crew.

"Let’s go again."

Sam called out, glancing around.

"Everyone, get ready."

The set buzzed with activity as each department mobilized.

The difficulty of this scene lay in the fact that Anson also had to coordinate with the wirework to perform his stunts.

If you've ever seen diving practice, you'll know that divers wear a belt around their waist, which is attached to wires. Coaches use the wires to pull the divers into the air, holding them aloft for a brief moment to give them time to execute their diving moves before controlling the descent. This helps divers practice their form and entry.

The principle of wirework is the same.

One, two, or even three experienced wire operators would control the wires, suspending the actor in mid-air for a short time so they could perform their stunts, then lowering them to the ground in a way that maintained realism — unless, of course, they were playing a character like Superman or Iron Man.

Here, the entire sequence of lifting, pausing, and descending was difficult to control, relying heavily on the operator's instincts. In traditional kung fu movies, the wirework crew were artisans, perfecting their craft through experience. But now, such artisans were becoming rarer, as CGI played an increasingly important role. Few productions still relied on practical wirework stunts.

However, Sam wanted to shoot the scene this way, and they had hired skilled wirework professionals to assist with the film.

Even with their expertise, the difficulty remained high.

In this scene, Anson needed to be lifted into the air, perform a 360-degree spin, and dive toward Alfred. After a brief hand-to-hand combat sequence, Alfred, using his mechanical arms, would pin Anson down, making the entire fight smooth and continuous.

Currently, Anson had four wires attached to him, each pulling him in different directions, controlling his movements in mid-air — no easy feat.

After Anson landed, his position relative to Alfred and two stunt actors became even more complex. If they weren’t careful, the mechanical arms and wires could get tangled, making it impossible to continue filming.

After the latest NG, Anson didn’t dwell on frustration. Instead, he gathered with his fellow actors to discuss what went wrong and made adjustments, hoping to improve in the next take.

Then, Anson walked over to the train carriage’s connection point, creating some distance as he prepared for his entrance, where he would leap onto the scene from below.

"Ready!" Anson shouted, signaling to the wire operators and other crew members that he was good to go.

He took a deep breath, focused, and entered combat mode.

"And… action!"

With the command, the camera started rolling. Anson waited for a brief moment, leaving a small gap to aid the editing process later on.

One second, two seconds.

Whoosh.

The wires pulled tight, and Anson shot into the air. He seemed to defy gravity, moving lightly and gracefully, as if he were truly flying.

Harry Percy, standing hidden in a corner, was dumbstruck. His eyes followed Anson as he ascended higher and higher, lifting his chin to watch Anson soar into the air. Anson’s fluid and elegant motion made it hard to look away. Even though the wires were visible to the naked eye, for a brief moment, it was easy to slip into the world of the movie’s magic:

Spider-Man!

Instinctively, Harry looked up.

Way up high, Spider-Man soared freely without wings. Passengers inside the train and Doctor Octopus, standing atop it, all looked up, eyes fixed on the elegant figure.

Reaching his highest point, Spider-Man executed a flawless 360-degree flip. His hands shot out webs, yanking him forward in a diving position like a missile hurtling toward Doctor Octopus.

Doctor Octopus barely had time to gasp as Spider-Man grew larger in his view, closing in fast.

Direct hit.

Octopus raised his arms in a desperate attempt to block Spider-Man.

But the next second, Spider-Man had already seized Doctor Octopus by the arms, flipping forward and dragging Octopus with him, their bodies spinning like a wheel until Spider-Man pinned him down.

One punch, then another.

No hesitation. Spider-Man swung his fists hard, pummeling Doctor Octopus’s face.

Dazed, Octopus couldn’t react fast enough and took several blows in quick succession. But in the next moment, his mechanical arms shot out to help him.

Now, it was a fight of fists against arms.

Spider-Man couldn’t continue punching Octopus, so he leaned back, dodging the mechanical arms as they lashed out, trying to land blows on the limbs instead of the body.

Punch after punch.

Doctor Octopus finally regained his composure, swinging his fists at Spider-Man.

With three heads and six arms, Doctor Octopus now had the upper hand, overwhelming Spider-Man’s two fists. The tide had turned.

However, Spider-Man’s agility and flexibility shone through. Amidst the barrage of punches, he ducked, twisted, and dodged, using his quick reflexes to avoid hits while searching for an opportunity to strike back.

A fierce back-and-forth, neither giving an inch.

The fight had reached a stalemate.

At that moment, two of Doctor Octopus’s mechanical arms found an opening and swung a direct punch at Spider-Man’s face.

Chapter 1005: Inspiration Storm

Boxing. Stalemate. Confrontation.

One fighter is unarmed but agile, the other has three heads and six arms but is strong and heavy. The blows land fast and furious, the physical attacks come so quickly that they blur together, overwhelming anyone watching.

A stalemate!

Spider-Man, amidst the chaos, finds a small opening using his quick reflexes, ready to go straight for Dr. Octopus’s head.

Knock out Dr. Octopus, and the fight would be over.

But what Spider-Man doesn’t know is that this is a trap. Dr. Octopus has intentionally left a flaw in his defense, waiting for Spider-Man to fall for it.

“Heh heh.”

Though Dr. Octopus’s face is hidden behind sunglasses, his smirk gives away his sinister satisfaction.

In a flash, Spider-Man has no time to react.

The next second, a tentacle shoots out from a gap on the right, hitting Spider-Man squarely in the nose. It strikes without warning, fast and unpredictable, impossible to block.

At the same time:

Spider-Man’s right fist is aimed at Dr. Octopus’s jaw.

A tentacle from Dr. Octopus's left side is aimed directly at Spider-Man’s nose.

A fight to the death. An eye for an eye.

Bang. Bang.

The punches land at nearly the same time. Both exchange blows in a desperate move, each willing to take damage to inflict it. But Dr. Octopus’s tentacle keeps extending, even after the punch, hurling Spider-Man away with full force.

Ugh.

Spider-Man groans in pain.

Yet, his reflexes kick in quickly. His left arm blocks the tentacle, deflecting it from below, giving him a brief moment to catch his breath.

But then, just a second later, a tentacle from Dr. Octopus’s left side sneaks up from below, like an underground serpent, and grabs Spider-Man’s waist, trapping him in a tight grip.

“Hah.”

Spider-Man feels the crushing pressure on his body, cutting off his breath, as though his organs are about to be squeezed to pieces. He jerks his head upward to look at Dr. Octopus.

Their eyes meet.

Even though one wears sunglasses and the other a mask, they can’t see each other’s eyes, but in that instant, a spark ignites between them. The intense emotions simmering in the air explode, crashing into one another.

The tension spreads.

“Cut!”

Sam’s voice interrupts the scene once again.

A breath catches in his chest, unable to be released. The actors’ muscles freeze, and the tension lingers in the air. There’s an unspoken frustration hanging between them, an irritation that builds and refuses to go away.

The scene had been flowing perfectly.

The wirework, the stunts, both Anson and Alfred—the actors—were in sync, a flawless performance that was on the brink of completion.

And yet…

What went wrong this time?

The scene wasn’t finished yet. According to the plan, the wires were supposed to lift Anson again, showing the tentacle raising Spider-Man into the air, followed by Dr. Octopus slamming him through the train door, where Spider-Man would crash into the car.

That was the ending.

This was just a part of the fight scene, temporarily pausing here before cutting into the next segment.

But now!

Just as they were nearing the “checkpoint,” Sam had interrupted again. Would they have to start over? What went wrong this time?

Everything had been perfect, everything was smooth. Why wasn’t the director satisfied?

Fifteen takes, all requiring high physical effort and technical precision, and even with the air conditioning on full blast, the whole set was drenched in sweat. Frustration and fatigue were mixing, and everyone was on edge.

Eyes darted toward Sam.

Sam was lost in his thoughts, unaware of the growing tension around him.

“Brilliant.”

Everyone: Huh? What’s happening?

“That was brilliant! Beautiful! Perfect! Everything was perfect!”

“That’s how it should be!”

Everyone: If it was perfect, why did you call a cut? The scene wasn’t even finished yet, and now you’ve interrupted it. Again?

“We need to tweak something, just a small adjustment based on what you just did.”

“I loved that moment when you exchanged punches—when Anson hit Alfred and Alfred hit Anson at the same time. I need you both to pause your head movements just slightly, so the audience can feel the impact, the power of the punches, exploding on your faces.”

“And Anson, your performance was perfect.”

“For the last bit, when you’re in that intense fight, completely immersed, only to get ambushed at the last moment… when you’re just about to counterattack, only to realize your opponent had laid a trap.”

“I loved that energy. I just need your body language to show a brief second of shock, just a tiny bit, maybe half a second—no, not even that, just a split second.”

“I want to fragment this scene, like a comic book. Every movement, every frame, each a separate shot, edited together in a chaotic, overwhelming way, making the audience feel like they’re caught in a storm of punches, completely breathless, and missing none of the hidden details.”

Inspiration was flowing—Sam’s mind was bursting with new ideas.

According to the original plan, Dr. Octopus's mechanical arms would dominate Spider-Man with power, flexibility, and sheer numbers. This fight was supposed to be one-sided, with Spider-Man never able to overpower Dr. Octopus physically.

In the end, Spider-Man would win by appealing to Dr. Octopus’s humanity, awakening his conscience, which prevents New York from being destroyed.

But now, Sam was inspired.

Without changing the overall structure, he wanted to make Spider-Man more combative, giving him chances to counterattack amidst the rapid blows. It wouldn’t be a one-sided fight. At the same time, Dr. Octopus would show more cunning, relying not just on strength but also on tactical thinking throughout the battle.

Would this affect the film overall?

No, not at all.

But it would make the fight scene more thrilling, more exciting. In Sam’s mind, it would enhance the climactic battle, adding more layers.

Sam was excited.

Indeed, there was a reason Sam admired Anson so much—Anson always brought something extra to the table. He could quietly inject charisma into his role, capturing attention.

Even in fight scenes.

With ideas racing through his mind, Sam enthusiastically laid everything out.

Then, he turned to the actors.

“Anson, can you do this?”

It wasn’t a command, but almost a plea.

Anson: …

The entire crew was stunned, momentarily speechless.

Normally, the director is the highest authority on set, unless the producers intervene. Sony-Columbia was very pleased with Sam’s work, and even before the first “Spider-Man” was released, they had already signed a contract for the sequel. After the box office exploded, Sony handed Sam full creative control.

Even though the producers and studio occasionally rejected some of Sam’s ideas, like script changes, there was no doubt that Sam had absolute power on set.

Now, with Sam calling all the shots, everyone had to follow his lead, bottling up their frustration and exhaustion.

Maybe, just maybe, their only hope lay with Anson?