The Best Actor in the Vase of Meiyu

Chapter 1287 Character
After a long period of silence, there was finally a sound.

Buzz, buzz.

The strings were gently plucked, and the slight vibrations spread in the air.

Johnny Cash, there's action.

“…Yes, I know Jesus saved me.”

Luther and Marshall harmonize, "Save My Soul."

You can feel that he is trying to open his throat and show the brightness of his voice.

However, the performance is still a bit dull and heavy.

The tone and pronunciation were trying to show vitality as much as possible; but I only felt a dryness in my throat, dragging the sound back, like an elephant with its feet tied to the ground, trying to grab a hydrogen balloon to escape the constraints of gravity, but still returning to the ground again and again.

Even Luther and Marshall's voices became tense.

Logically speaking, the harmony of three people should add layers to the entire performance. Even without distinguishing the voices, one can still feel the collision of different sound resonances.

pity.

The chorus of the three people in front of me seemed monotonous and weak.

All three people were speaking, but their voices obviously did not resonate.

What's worse is that the three of them were so immersed in the performance that they didn't notice it at all. Instead, they continued singing, trying to mobilize the energy in their bodies.

Johnny, "The moment he forgave me."

Luther and Marshall, "Make Me Complete."

Johnny, "He takes away my heavy burdens, God, He gives me inner peace."

Luther and Marshall, “Peace of Mind.”

If you look closely, you can find that Johnny's voice is trembling slightly. His stiff shoulders and straight back make his entire upper body look particularly clumsy, as if he forgot to take off the shirt hanger and wore it with the hanger. His entire behavior and demeanor seem strange.

That kind of stiffness was soaked into the voice, making the entire performance seem rigid and stiff.

No vitality.

Unfortunately, Johnny himself didn't notice it. He thought everything was going as he imagined and that he and his two friends performed exceptionally well.

Johnny looked at Marshall, then at Luther, and smiled.

At least, he thought he was smiling, but he didn't realize that the corners of his tightly-locked mouth didn't rise at all, and his facial nerves twitched, revealing a strange expression.

Johnny tries to mobilize his two friends, who need to show the essence of music.

Johnny, “Satan can’t make me doubt.”

Marshall and Luther, "I wouldn't doubt it..."

DALLAS — Sam Phillips noticed that you didn’t have to have a professional, systematic understanding of music to notice problems in the performance before you.

Primitive. Rough. Simple. Amateur. There is an atmosphere of self-entertainment.

Perhaps, the voice is not bad; but the way of singing with suppressed voice can show obvious traces of imitation. It tries to use bass to show depth and tries to use resonance to show emotions, but the presentation effect is bland and tasteless.

Is it bad?
Not really. At least the pitch, rhythm and so on are all fine.

Is it worth listening to?

Not really, a quick glance across the ear would leave absolutely no impression.

Gradually, Dallas could feel the emotion, and his whole body became completely tense. The more he wanted to express himself, the more he trapped himself. Even his voice seemed tense, not to mention his emotional expression.

Finally, standing on the safety track properly and singing properly are not even considered singing to one's heart's content.

The whole performance was dry and tasteless, without color, edges or...emotion.

Drowsy.

Come on, this is the gospel, just go to any church on Sunday service and look at all the black people with the perfect singing skills, any one of them is more talented than this man.

Dallas raised his head and looked at Anson. Before he realized it, he had fallen into a trance and an illusion.

That kind of tension and restraint seemed so insignificant.

Unconsciously, Dallas straightened his back quietly. He couldn't lie: No, it just couldn't happen. Even if he didn't want to accuse others from a high position, the facts before him were so clear.

A little bit of caution, a little bit of disappointment, a little bit of nervousness.

Sam Phillips could hardly hide his expression, and Dallas himself didn't realize that he had perfectly entered into Sam's role.

Everything happened silently and everywhere, forming a powerful force that dragged everyone in and out of the recording studio into a vortex amidst curiosity and confusion, waiting and watching, as if traveling through time and entering the world of Johnny Cash.

The boundary between reality and fantasy, life and movies, has disappeared before I realize it. The drama, with half foot in reality and half foot, spans the two spaces without me realizing it. All the tension, uneasiness, worry and retreat have long since vanished, swept away by the storm.

It's so simple, without even a snap of your fingers, the magic happens.

is this real?

In real life, people tend to believe that there is a line between reality and drama, life and performance.

Dallas thinks so too.

The sound of "action" and "cut" form a boundary, marking the beginning and the end, leaving the performing personality in the camera lens and drawing a line in the long river of real time, ensuring that the actors stay sober and do not confuse the role with the person, and finally become a madman who is unable to extricate himself from the role.

However, is it really that simple?

With a beginning and an end, you can easily and clearly separate your own experience, your own feelings, and your own immersion?
If a truly excellent and truly outstanding performance is one that is completely immersive and displays a persuasive impact, how can it be easily escaped?
Real life is often not that simple.

Being immersed in the role but unable to get out of it is the result of being too deeply immersed in it and becoming crazy.

If you are into the role but cannot be 100% absorbed in it, then your acting is bad.

If you are into the role but suddenly lose it without any warning, that is NG.

It is obviously not enough to just rely on “start shooting” and “stop” to divide time, feelings and experiences.

There is a saying that goes, journey begins the moment you make up your mind.

In a way, the same is true for acting; the moment you start flipping through the script, the performance has already begun.

In front of you, that's it.

Long before Mangold announced the start of filming, long before the crew and actors were ready, Anson's words and actions had already begun to create the atmosphere.

Dallas was totally unaware of this.

Because of the intimidation created by the name "Anson Wood", I was unconsciously drawn into Anson's rhythm. Before I had time to realize what was happening, the subconscious conditioned reflex had taken over my brain, and I had entered the role preconceivedly. The boundary between reality and fantasy had already become blurred.

The role enters the body silently, without even having time to react or realize it, switching back and forth between the boundaries of tension and anxiety, unconsciously entering the state, between half asleep and half awake, the performance is revealed naturally, without the need for thinking or polishing.

Everything is so natural:

A little bit of regret, a little bit of regret.

(End of this chapter)