521-525

*Chapter 521: The Youth's Troubles*

The boy quietly watched Anson. Despite Anson’s constant smile, the boy could sense a faint sadness hidden within the bright and radiant exterior.

Was it an illusion?

“What’s your dream?” the boy asked.

Anson was taken aback. “Ah...” he sighed softly, memories tracing back through the long river of time. The memories of his youth felt so distant, making it hard to distinguish between what truly happened and what his mind had constructed.

His dreams had long been scattered across the endless flow of time.

“My dream is to be like you,” Anson said—

To love life despite being scarred, to move forward despite being trapped, to hold on despite falling into the abyss.

The boy didn’t understand.

Anson was only nineteen, about the same age as the boy, yet there was a profound sense of loss and fragility emanating from him, a contradiction of time’s weight falling chaotically on his shoulders.

The boy thought for a moment. “Do you want to go back to the past?”

“Yeah.” Anson nodded gently.

The boy asked, “What do you miss most about that time?”

Anson didn’t immediately respond. He brushed away the fog in his mind, digging up the deeply hidden memories of his past life. As he thought, a smile unknowingly spread across his face—

Those pure and simple days. He thought he would miss those happy moments, but that wasn’t the case.

“I miss the worries.”

“Worrying about unfinished homework, about doing poorly on exams, about getting caught passing notes in class and having the teacher call my parents, about planning to go out with friends on the weekend but not knowing how to ask my parents…”

“Worrying about messing up the school play, about getting caught sneaking in video game time, about the girl I had a crush on not liking me back…”

Back then, they thought those worries were the most terrifying and awful things in the world. But as they grew up, they realized that those worries were a form of happiness.

The words lingered in the air, the sound crisp and disappearing in a blink, but the hidden sadness and loss spread out.

The boy held his breath—

He understood. He completely understood.

This was the life he wanted. He wanted to have those adolescent worries, to experience a normal teenage life.

Clearly, Anson was someone with a story. They both had their own stories, like two parallel lines that intersected at a certain moment.

Anson noticed the boy’s gaze, a bit embarrassed. He hadn’t expected to open up so easily, the words naturally spilling out; but he knew that in the boy, he saw his former self.

Sincerely, Anson hoped the boy could completely escape the shadows and truly live a teenage life, worrying about those trivial troubles.

Ahem.

Anson cleared his throat to cover his expression. “Maybe you could become an actor. You could try out for the school play.”

The boy’s eyes lit up. “Really? Do you think I could be an actor? Just like you?”

Anson raised an eyebrow slightly. “Oh, you recognized me?”

“Hehe.” The boy chuckled. “Not just me, my mom recognized you too. Let me tell you a secret: I’ve watched ‘Spider-Man’ four times. I want to be a superhero like you and take on the responsibility of protecting my mom.”

Simple words hid many, many scars.

So, this is the power of movies—

Far more than just a form of entertainment.

Anson nodded lightly. “If you’re interested, you could try acting. I’m here in Portland to shoot a project, and the director might hold auditions at your school. If you’re interested, I can recommend you to the director.”

“Really?” The boy’s eyes widened in excitement as he looked at Anson. “Can I really become an actor? And act with you?”

Happiness surged.

But only for half a second. The boy’s face quickly dimmed.

“No, I can’t.”

“I—uh, if I became an actor, it would reveal me and my mom. I don’t want to be found, at least not yet, not until I’m able to protect my mom.”

“Maybe next time, maybe there will be another chance.”

Anson saw the struggle and hesitation on the boy’s face, but the words of persuasion remained stuck in his throat.

Maybe there were many ways to solve this, but it was ultimately the boy’s life. As an outsider, Anson could only see the tip of the iceberg, only offer help within his capabilities, but the final decision and steps forward had to be taken by the boy himself.

At least they had left New York and started a new life, which was a good thing. The rest could come step by step.

“This time, while we’re shooting here, you’re welcome to visit the set anytime. You can see if you’re interested; making a movie is very different from what you might imagine.”

“Afterward, you can sign up for the school play and see for yourself. It’s Shakespeare, after all—who wouldn’t want to take on Shakespeare?”

With just a few words, the boy’s expression brightened again.

“Yeah, yeah, exactly!” The boy couldn’t help but leap with excitement. He was about to say something more when the school bell interrupted him.

The boy showed a sad expression. “Ah, the troubles.”

“Haha.” Anson couldn’t help but laugh.

The boy smiled again, taking off toward the classroom. Just a few steps away, he stopped and looked back.

“Anson, I’m really happy to see you again.”

“Thank you, I just want to say, thank you!”

The boy called out to Anson with a blooming smile, just as a ray of golden sunlight pierced through the clouds, landing on him and outlining him in gold—completely different from the dark and gloomy encounter on the streets of New York.

“Hey!” Anson called out, stopping the boy in his tracks. “We’ve met twice, but we still haven’t introduced ourselves. That’s not fair.”

“Haha, sorry.” The boy scratched his head.

He stopped, turned around.

The boy looked at Anson, and from a distance, he confidently extended his right hand, straightened his posture, and loudly announced:

“Jake-Forest.”

“My name is Jake-Forest, very pleased to meet you.”

So bright, so sunny—this must be the real Jake.

No more words were needed. With just an introduction, a smile had already formed on Anson’s lips. He followed Jake’s lead, extended his right hand, and pretended to shake hands across the distance.

“Wood. Anson-Wood.”

“Hey, Jake, very pleased to meet you.”

The two stood ten meters apart, even having to shout to converse; but they completed the handshake in the air, even giving an imaginary high-five, a silent bond forming between them.

Then, Jake didn’t linger any longer, waving as he walked backward.

“Anson, good luck with the shoot!”

Watching Jake’s retreating figure, Anson remained standing, as the playground fell silent again. The students had all gone into their classrooms, and the noise and bustle faded away.

Anson stared in the direction Jake had left.

“It’s really, really great to see you again.”

 *Chapter 522: Independent Director*

When Gus Van Sant arrived at the middle school, it was just past noon. The sunlight lazily poured down, but it didn’t feel hot at all, retaining a touch of the spring’s lingering freshness that hadn’t fully dissipated.

It was perfect weather for filming a movie.

Gus decided to take a short walk, allowing him to soak up the sun and clear his mind. He was contemplating the casting for his project "Elephant," and slowing down helped him clarify his thoughts.

In fact, Gus didn’t have any special requirements—

No need for anyone particularly beautiful or striking; just ordinary middle school students would do. Of course, the prerequisite was that they shouldn't be camera-shy. They needed to remain natural in front of the camera, ignoring its presence and staying true to themselves.

That was enough.

However, Gus knew that this requirement alone would be difficult for most kids. Pretending not to notice the camera while knowing you're being filmed is no easy task, which is why Gus was considering using professional actors for the main roles.

He planned to shoot in a faux-documentary style, with the authenticity of everyday school life as the core. But at its essence, it was still a narrative film, requiring the cooperation of actors and the invisibility of the camera—

It couldn’t be detected.

As he thought more about it, his mind began to drift.

From choosing actors to setting up camera positions, to framing and tracking shots, and so on.

The spatial positioning of the film's shots is part of what gives them their magic. The cleaner and simpler the film, the more it tests the director’s skill.

How do you present a character’s position in space? Whether they appear small in a vast space or cramped in a narrow one; how do you convey the subjective feel of a shot, whether it’s a bird's-eye view or an upward angle; how do you depict the relationships between characters within that space—whether intimate, distant, confrontational, or supportive?

These are all crucial.

A single perspective, a single shot.

These alone often convey the director’s intent. Narration is not just completed through dialogue and script.

Last time, when filming "Gerry," Gus used one approach; this time, he intended to try something different using the experience from "Gerry." This meant that the placement and movement of the camera were particularly important.

Gus wanted to use the camera to capture the undercurrents hidden beneath the calm—not just loneliness, but also a repressed emotion.

People often need to see blood, brains, and bodies to realize that something is happening. However, the unseen oppression, exclusion, attacks, and emotional abuse are constantly unfolding. The absence of blood doesn’t mean there’s no injury, even in everyday life, where undercurrents exist everywhere.

This was the foundation of Gus’s concept for the entire film.

Because of this, the relaxed and natural state of the actors became even more crucial. The moment they became aware of the camera’s presence, the spatial relationship between the lens and the characters could collapse, causing the film’s visuals to lose their credibility.

In the movie "Elephant," the presence of the actors was paradoxically both insignificant and crucial. It was insignificant because the role demanded almost no acting; they just needed to be themselves. But it was crucial because how they presented their authentic selves in front of the camera was the ultimate challenge for any actor.

It was at this moment that Gus noticed a figure on the playground—

A blonde boy, quietly sitting on a swing, his body gently swaying with the breeze. His head tilted, leaning against the rope, his face obscured, yet it seemed as if golden sunlight was dancing lightly around him.

A touch of melancholy. A hint of fragility. A trace of wistfulness.

Rather than sadness or pain, it was more of... a contemplation.

He was lost in his own world, letting his thoughts wander through the depths of the universe, exploring the mysteries of time and space, digging into the meaning of life.

The image for the film suddenly appeared in Gus’s mind.

Instinctively, Gus lightened his steps, like a birdwatcher in the forest, carefully concealing his presence, observing the bird’s habits, knowing he shouldn’t get too close, yet unable to control the pounding of his heart.

However.

Gus clumsily stepped on a stone, his foot slipped slightly, and the tranquil air was disturbed.

Damn!

Gus: ...

He froze on the spot like a statue, staring blankly at the blonde boy—

It’s him.

It was really him?

Gus was stunned.

“Hey, Director.”

In the moment that Gus was lost in thought, the blonde boy had already greeted him first.

It was none other than Anson Wood.

The face that had swept through all of Hollywood in recent times—if someone didn’t recognize him, the only explanation was that they lived in a completely isolated place, cut off entirely from social media.

Otherwise, how could they not know him?

This was Gus’s greatest concern.

At this very moment, Anson was at the peak of his success, the toast of the town. All of Hollywood might not even fit in his eyes, and yet he was set to star in such a small, experimental independent film—

Are you sure?

After HBO made the proposal, Gus carefully inquired around.

In the end, it was Gus’s old friend and the producer of “Elephant,” Diane Keaton, who made the final decision.

“Gus, have you ever thought that while you’re speculating and being critical of him, the fact that he agreed to take the role itself says something?”

Those words were a wake-up call.

After much thought, Gus decided to give Anson and himself a chance.

Before coming to Portland, Gus had imagined countless disastrous scenarios—

That’s just his nature. He’s naturally pessimistic, often seeing the negative side of things, always prepared for the worst.

In Gus’s films, you can often see his reflections on life and the world. From “Gerry” to “Elephant,” it can be seen as Gus’s contemplation of death.

However, nothing Gus imagined actually happened.

No reporters, no fans, no crowds swarming around him.

No agent, not even an assistant.

Anson was sitting alone on the swing, swaying gently like a floating leaf, no different from any other student. It was just another ordinary afternoon.

... That’s it?

For once, Gus was at a loss, his mind unable to keep up with his thoughts.

But strangely, at that moment, Gus remembered something:

Anson was probably very photogenic.

There are certain actors who have a unique aura. As soon as they appear in front of the camera, on the big screen, the atmosphere of the entire scene changes subtly, making people want to delve deeper into them.

In Gus’s mind, Anson was handsome. For heaven’s sake, all the overwhelming news praised Anson’s looks and charm. But Gus had never noticed this aura in Anson—

Maybe “The Princess Diaries” and “Spider-Man” didn’t capture this side of Anson?

Gus thought, Anson’s presence in front of the camera must be very special.

With all these thoughts swirling around, the first thing Gus blurted out was—

“Your hair, your hair!”

Anson had short, golden-brown hair, usually close to brown, but under the sunlight, it revealed a light golden hue. Yet now, Anson had bright, striking blonde hair.

What’s going on?

There was too much information for Gus to process.

*Chapter 523: The True State*

The amount of information was overwhelming!

For a moment, Gus didn’t know where to start; shock and surprise, excitement and anticipation all surged at once.

His brain froze for a second.

So.

What came out of his mouth was just what his eyes saw:

A head of blonde hair.

Anson followed Gus’s gaze and glanced at his own hair.

“Ha, this is a wig.”

As he spoke, Anson casually took off the wig.

Gus stood there, dumbfounded, jaw dropped, likely unable to snap out of it for a while.

“Isn't that how it always goes in the movies? Spies need a little disguise, maybe James Bond is the only exception.”

Anson had quietly left Los Angeles and arrived in Portland, but he wasn’t naive enough to fully trust that paparazzo. On one hand, he made a deal with him, and on the other, he was prepared for anything.

Who would’ve thought that not only did Anson avoid keeping a low profile, but he was also walking around with a “light bulb” on his head?

Anyway, no one recognized Anson along the way.

Oh, except Jack! Jack should be the first one.

Of course, that’s not all.

“Also, I’m trying to reconnect with my high school self, to feel that youthful mindset again.”

Gus: …

After a pause, Gus couldn’t help but say, “But you’re not even twenty yet; high school was only two years ago, right?”

“Ah,” Anson opened his mouth. Actually, high school memories felt so distant, but it didn’t matter. “You see, two years in your world is only one twenty-fifth of your life, a blink of an eye; but in our world, two years is a tenth, a long and difficult tenth, almost like it was last century.”

Last century—

Strictly speaking, Anson was correct, as his high school years were indeed in the 20th century.

A double meaning.

Gus couldn’t hold back his laughter, “So, what about the hair?”

Anson shrugged lightly, “You know, we all make some stupid decisions during our teenage years to prove how unique we are.”

“Like getting an ugly tattoo, dressing oddly in a graduation photo, or leaving some pseudo-philosophical nonsense in the yearbook.”

“Or getting a haircut that’s an absolute disaster.”

Anson tossed the wig into the air.

“Sometimes, we know why we do these things; but more often, we have no clue at all. Maybe a friend egged us on, maybe it was a spur-of-the-moment decision, and then it just happened.”

“God, we have so much to figure out during those teenage years, right?”

From Los Angeles to Portland, Anson had been pondering the character’s psychology—

Although the character was also a high school student, he was completely different from the ones in The Princess Diaries or Spider-Man. Those characters’ ordinariness was relative, but in Elephant, the ordinariness was absolute.

This character had no protagonist aura; everything about him was ordinary.

Just like…Jack.

So, when creating the first two characters, Anson could find their arcs and grounding, which is typical in movies; but this time, it was different.

In movies, characters often have an arc; they grow, they change.

In reality, however, people don’t always have an arc; they might never grow, stay stuck in the same place, even regress instead of progress, or just give up entirely.

This meant that in Elephant, Anson’s performance shouldn’t be about finding an arc or narrative but about finding a state—

A true state.

That’s not an easy task.

People often think “being yourself” is the simplest, easiest thing; but in reality, it’s not. In real life, people often wear layers of masks, hiding their true selves well.

Because being real often means being vulnerable.

The same goes for actors. They get used to performing, in movies, in shows, in everyday life. Over time, even they can’t take off the mask and can’t identify where their true self is hidden.

When an actor needs to remove the mask and show their true self in front of the camera or on stage, it becomes the most difficult task.

No mask, no armor, just a state of total vulnerability.

Anson recalled what those carefree, worry-free teenage years were like, but time’s dust had covered the original appearance of those memories so thoroughly that he couldn’t be sure of their truth.

He thought those years were happy, with his father’s business still intact and his parents’ marriage still stable. He walked down the school hallways, his steps dancing in the sunlight.

But that wasn’t entirely true.

When he calmed down, what came to mind wasn’t happiness or beauty but those small, trivial worries and unexplainable confusion—

Homework. Teachers. Classmates. Girls. Pocket money.

All these worries filled the corners of his days: frustration over not getting an ice pop during recess, glee when his best friend got caught daydreaming by a teacher, being teased by friends for receiving a love letter on the way home from school.

It wasn’t until he grew up that he realized those worries were sweet.

The wig gave Anson an inspiration—

“I’m not sure, maybe I saw Justin Timberlake perform once, or maybe it was Nick Carter, and on impulse, I dyed my hair blonde.”

“I thought dyeing my hair would change my situation at school, help me talk to the girl I liked; or maybe it was just a form of rebellion, a protest against my father’s drinking, which I was powerless to stop.”

“I, uh, I just wanted to change something, hoping that life would change too.”

“But now, I realize I was wrong.”

“Right?”

Lost, confused, sensitive.

In just a few words, Anson painted a vivid picture of a teenager in Gus’s mind—

Who says Anson is just a pretty face?

Who says that!

Gus could hardly believe it; could things get any better?

His worries didn’t materialize, and Anson’s connection with the character far exceeded his expectations. The camera’s visuals just flowed naturally.

Gus was excited.

He curiously asked, “Did you come up with all this yourself?”

Anson smiled, “Without a script to guide me, I had to rely on myself. But this is just an idea, not fully formed yet. After reading the script, we can slowly adjust according to the character…”

“No script.” Gus interrupted Anson.

Anson froze, “Huh?”

He was telling the truth. Even though the memory of watching Elephant in his past life lingered, since Gus wanted to choose an ordinary student for the role, it meant the actor needed to bring part of themselves into the film.

Anson was just being himself. Naturally, this Elephant would be different too.

But Anson was counting on the script, and now—

Gus repeated, “No script.”

“That’s why I tried to choose ordinary students from here. Whatever you usually say or do, I’ll just capture it with the camera.”

“No script needed.”

“Oh, by the way, your characters in the movie will all use your real names.”

*Chapter 524: The Sparrow Crew*

No script.

Real-name performances.

Gus casually throws out a bombshell.

Moments ago, Gus was momentarily stunned by the sheer volume of information from Anson; now the roles are reversed, with Anson needing some time to process the vast amount of information from Gus.

Now, Anson finally understands where the sense of realism in "The Elephant" comes from—

Because Gus presents his interpretation of the entire event in a documentary-style format.

"Mockumentary"—it’s only now that Anson feels a sense of reality.

Thump, thump.

His heart races uncontrollably.

Anson swallows hard, wondering if he's truly ready to show his real self in front of the camera.

Taking a deep breath, Anson looks at Gus. "So, you're saying I need to play myself on screen."

Gus nods, "Yes."

After a pause, he adds, "Not actor Anson, not Spider-Man Anson, but just an ordinary high school student Anson."

"Your youth, your worries, your struggles."

When filming "Catch Me If You Can," Anson had once awakened memories from a past life—memories that, while left in the past, profoundly affect the present.

He isn't planning to avoid or ignore them.

Because it's precisely those hardships and setbacks that have sculpted him into who he is today.

And now, he's taking it a step further?

Gus notices Anson's contemplation. "What’s wrong, do you have any reservations? If you want to back out of the crew now, it's not too late."

"Heh." Anson chuckles, "No, I'm really looking forward to it. In fact, I should say I’m very excited. You know, when everyone else tries to fit me into the Spider-Man mask, you're willing to give me a chance to take off the mask, and even shed the actor's persona. I think this is an interesting challenge."

He pauses for a moment.

"Director, thank you for giving me this opportunity."

With grace and composure, Anson looks at Gus, his gaze clear and bright.

Gus, on the other hand, feels a bit embarrassed. The honest man rubs the back of his neck, "To be honest, until I met you, I was still a bit hesitant."

He actually just... said it out loud.

Anson is taken aback, a smile appearing in his eyes. "Then I’m very glad I could eliminate the director's last bit of hesitation."

Gus is stunned, but a smile slowly creeps onto his face—

He thinks he's beginning to like this actor.

Anson continues to ask out of curiosity, "Director, can you tell me about this movie? I mean, no script doesn’t mean you don't have images or a framework in your mind, right?"

"Wait, or are you and Director Wong Kar-wai of the same style?"

With works like "In the Mood for Love" and "Happy Together," that always-sunglass-wearing director has become a significant name worldwide.

At the same time, the director's infamous slow pace, spontaneity, and lack of planning have also become well-known.

Back when Tony Leung went to Buenos Aires to shoot "Happy Together," he thought he was playing a nephew attending a funeral, only to find out that the director completely overhauled the script. Without a script, the first scene had the two lead actors filming an intense love scene.

After filming, Tony Leung sat on the bed, bewildered, smoking a cigarette.

Anson’s casual joke makes Gus burst into laughter, waving his hands in denial, "I could never do that."

"Of course, I have images in my mind, and I’m trying to materialize them."

When it comes to casual conversation, Gus neither has the time nor the interest.

But talking about movies? Once the floodgates open, they won’t close.

Who would have thought?

Just a few minutes ago, Gus was burdened with worries, fretting over casting, Anson, and the camera—everything. But now, Gus is beaming and chatting casually with Anson, gradually clarifying the images in his mind through their conversation.

Without a doubt, this is the smallest crew Anson has ever been a part of—

One camera.

Yes, you read that right.

Other crews typically have six or seven cameras operating simultaneously from different angles, sometimes even with additional teams shooting different scenes. Tracks, cranes, helicopters, tripods, and so on—just the filming equipment alone might require three trucks.

But Gus only needs one camera.

One cameraman, one camera, and maybe a sound technician at most.

The crew doesn’t even have a professional lighting technician. Gus and the cameraman handle the lighting themselves, and if a reflector is needed, whoever is free will jump in.

The entire crew, at full strength, numbers less than ten people.

Forget about the four-hundred-plus people on the "Spider-Man" set; even compared to the usual "Friends" shoots, this crew is tiny.

Actually, this is the reality of most of Hollywood.

After all, projects with multi-million or even billion-dollar investments are still the minority. There are countless small crews with budgets under ten million dollars.

In the past few years, Brad Renfro has been active in such crews, either passionately pursuing his dreams or clocking in and out like a seasoned pro.

To Anson, big crews have their advantages, and small crews have their charm.

In those big crews, there are many people and clear divisions of labor, like a well-oiled machine where every screw has its role. Many crew members might never meet until the movie premieres—

It's purely a work relationship.

But small crews are different.

They see each other constantly, and often one person wears multiple hats. They must band together, working toward a common goal. These small, complete teams take care of each other through the challenges of filming.

For such films, regardless of the movie's success, the filming process will inevitably leave a deep impression, with each day and every scene vividly remembered.

Just like now.

The elderly man with the white beard, who looks like Santa Claus stepped out of a fairy tale, is carrying a camera, slightly out of breath but with an extremely focused expression, completely ignoring the sweat on his forehead.

This is the cinematographer for "The Elephant," Harris Savides. Despite his low profile, he’s a blue-collar worker in the industry—"Se7en" is one of his works, and he later collaborated with David Fincher on "Zodiac."

Last year, Harris and Gus worked together on the experimental film "Gerry," so when Gus called on Harris to collaborate again, Harris agreed without hesitation.

Harris looks around.

"Anson, uh… Anson!"

"Perfect, you’re not in this scene, come help out."

"The reflector..."

One moment, Anson is an actor; the next, he's a camera assistant.

He had heard that New York University’s film school teaches this way, rotating students through every position on a film crew.

First, it helps students understand how a crew operates and the responsibilities of each position, making them more precise when giving directions.

Second, it allows students to explore their interests, discover what they genuinely enjoy and excel at, and eventually find their place.

Of course, Anson isn't from an academic background, so he’s never had such an experience. But he never expected to get a taste of it while filming "The Elephant."

### Chapter 525: Life Experience

"Harris, should we focus on the upper body or the lower body?"

Called upon to assist, Anson didn't hesitate. He picked up the reflector board and assumed the role of a camera assistant, skillfully getting straight to the point.

Harris glanced at Anson. It seemed this actor had some understanding of the other roles in the crew, but there wasn't time to praise him now.

"…The ceiling," Harris replied with an unexpected answer.

Anson looked up at the ceiling, pondering silently:

If the light is directed onto the ceiling, it would softly and naturally diffuse downward, making facial expressions clearer and transitions between light and shadow more delicate.

However, this was just his own guess. Since he wasn't a professional, the actual effect would need to be confirmed on camera.

Undoubtedly, this was an intriguing process:

If an actor can understand the intentions and working style of the lighting, camera, and director—just like when studying costumes for the "Friends" production—perhaps they could more accurately convey emotions to the camera.

So, would this be considered a representational approach?

This is a style rooted in formal education, different from the Method Acting or immersive approach that demands complete immersion in the role. Instead, it's about interacting with the crew before fully committing to the performance, constructing a framework and context for the character.

Indeed, filmmaking is a delightful endeavor, always full of surprises!

Though his mind was racing, Anson remained focused—

He carefully observed the interaction between the actors and the camera.

Harris, handling the camera, paused slightly. He could notice the subtle changes in the reflector, allowing the space captured by the lens to take on a nuanced change. A delicate aura quietly spread across the frame.

Involuntarily, Harris held his breath, focusing all his attention on the camera.

It was different from what he imagined… completely different.

This scene, as seen by others on set—not just Harris—stirred ripples of surprise.

Alex Frost stared at Anson in astonishment and then turned to Eric Deulen beside him, trying to get a reaction.

Unfortunately, he got none.

Eric's cherubic, round face was filled with excitement. Even though it was the second day since joining the "Elephant" crew, he still couldn't believe this was happening—

That's Peter Parker!

For heaven's sake, that's Peter Parker!

Just getting a role in a movie through an audition was crazy enough; to think he was going to act alongside Peter Parker!

Just imagining it made Eric's wildly beating heart almost stop. He tossed and turned all night, unable to sleep. Every time he thought about it, a silly grin crept onto his face.

After all, Eric was just an ordinary high school student in Portland—slightly shy and introverted. His life had nothing to do with movies, Hollywood, or the glitz and glamor of fame, and he never dreamed of having any connection with Hollywood.

And now?

Not only could he see Peter Parker up close, but he could also watch him act!

Eric had to muster all his strength to control his urge to scream.

Alex, seeing Eric standing there dumbfounded, frantically looked around for someone to share his excitement with. Finding none, he nudged Eric with his shoulder.

Finally!

Eric snapped back and turned to Alex, their eyes locking—

Madness! Absolute madness!

Alex: Did you see that? Did you just see that? Anson picked up a reflector board! Just with one word from the cameraman, the superstar immediately took on the role of a camera assistant. Is this for real? And he’s so focused on studying the lighting—my God, what is happening here?

Eric: That's Peter Parker! Ahhh, that's Spider-Man! I'm acting with Peter Parker; pinch me!

Though their thoughts conveyed entirely different ideas, it didn't stop them from celebrating together with wild excitement.

To be precise, the entire crew was filled with a unique atmosphere; whether it was Gus or Anson, the mere presence of a film crew in a school was exhilarating.

When the crew arrived at the school, the initially excited students were slightly disappointed, thinking, "Is that it?"

A team of about a dozen people looked like a ragtag band; if it weren't for Gus's reputation and the school's confirmation, one might suspect it was a scam.

But the disappointment was short-lived. When the casting began and they found out Anson was the lead, the ordinary high school was thrown into a frenzy again, still unable to believe that this was really happening.

In any case, "Elephant" had officially started filming—

Gus didn't rush to immediately cast the actors but instead heeded Anson's suggestion to slow down and waited for three days.

Gus's vision didn't include a script or dialogue; the camera aimed to capture a slice of ordinary life in this high school. How the students behaved daily would be how they appeared on camera, with no need for embellishment.

Thus, Anson, an outsider, might stand out.

Obviously, this wasn't the goal.

So, Anson thought he should approach this as a method actor, truly experiencing school life for a few days and blending into the school environment as much as possible, both as an observer and a participant.

Gus mulled over this and agreed immediately—

He also wanted to observe the school's daily life as an observer. His criteria for selecting actors were based on authenticity, aiming to be as close to the characters as possible.

But there's an important point to note: a mockumentary isn't a true documentary. A film has a story; its characters have roles to play. No script doesn't mean no plot, and presenting images in a documentary style doesn't mean the director has no artistic creation. Nor does it mean Gus is just wandering around campus with a camera.

Naturally, Gus needed to choose actors based on his mental image of the characters and build the movie's storyline based on their daily lives.

Movies, derived from reality but elevated above it, involve a process of artistic recreation—

Ninety percent reality, combined with ten percent artistic processing and creativity, blurring the lines between reality and art, ultimately creating a unique film.

So, Gus and Anson "laid low" in the school.

Gus was worried Anson might blow his cover, but he didn't expect Anson to dye his hair bright blonde—like a radiant Apollo.

Gus thought Anson had gone mad.

But unexpectedly, this striking blonde hair turned out to be the perfect disguise. When people saw Anson for the first time, all they noticed was the blonde hair. Even if he looked familiar, the visual impact of the hair was so strong that they instinctively dismissed the idea that it was Anson.

Until the casting ended, someone still asked,

"Where's Anson?"