The Best Actor in the Vase of Meiyu

Chapter 1816 Rebellion
In Anson's memory, Michael Caine was either the butler in "Batman" or the professor in "Inception," a refined and polite man who remained calm in the face of danger.

Over time, the image on screen becomes deeply imprinted in the mind, to the point that one subconsciously associates the on-screen image with the real-life image, believing that it is Michael Caine.

But clearly, this is a misunderstanding.

In the simplest and most direct way, the general public's impression of Anson and Scarlett is the same: it remains based on their screen image, gossip, and unfounded rumors. Even if Anson tries to show her "authenticity," people still tend to believe what they see.

To some extent, the profession of "actor" may become their tool, but it may also become their camouflage.

Like a chameleon.

"A cigarette, want some? Or maybe some whiskey?"

Michael Caine offered the cigarette between his fingers, looking at Anson, but received no response. He didn't mind and continued talking to himself.

“If you want something more intense, we should get into the trailer and avoid being seen by the director, or at least not be so blatant.”

"Or do you have OCD?"

That nonchalant demeanor awakened Anson's memories. How could he forget that before Jude Law showed the world his dashing charm as "Alfie," Michael Caine was the first "Alfie"—handsome, unrestrained, walking the line of danger, and constantly challenging the audience's limits of understanding?

Finally, Anson couldn't help but laugh out loud, "No, it's just because Scarlett just made the same suggestion."

Michael Caine glanced at Scarlett Johansson and said, "Looks like we all think the same thing: this guy is too much of a celebrity."

Scarlett blinked. "Exactly, exactly. It's like he's afraid we won't know he's a superstar, carrying that burden and overthinking things."

Anson: ? ? ?
Scarlett even stepped forward and gave Michael Caine a high-five.

Anson looked somewhat helpless.

But Anson wasn't shy or reserved, and simply went along with it, joking, "Don't worry, I know, I understand, you're just envious. Secretly envious but afraid to say it, right?"

"The world of superstars is so lonely, and I'm trying to learn this first lesson."

Michael exhaled a smoke ring with a contented expression, watching it rise slowly in the breeze and drizzle, a satisfied smile spreading across his face.

"A superstar needs to be thick-skinned, and he's passed that test."

"But kid! If you're so thick-skinned, why worry about not performing well in front of the camera? Why worry about gossip? Why make trouble for yourself and put yourself under a burden?"

"You're the producer, you're a superstar. If anyone's not happy, you can just fire them."

what!
Scarlett smiled.

Anson looked over and saw Scarlett with her hands outstretched, a calm expression on her face, and a smile continuing to bloom.

Michael Caine, usually mild-mannered, displayed the street-smart style he grew up with. He didn't use any profanity, but you could clearly sense his recklessness and directness.

People often have the misconception that gentlemen don't swear or lose their composure.

But in fact, it's not.

A true gentleman is not someone who never swears, but someone who doesn't swear easily. He knows when it's appropriate to speak out and when he should keep quiet. At the same time, he also knows how to achieve the effect of humiliation without using profanity.

Swearing?

Too street-style and too rudimentary; too little lethality.

Anson's eyes flashed with a smile. "Including those old academics from the academy?" Anson thought Michael Caine would pause, or at least hesitate, but Michael Caine replied, "Of course."

It's only natural, and I feel perfectly justified.

Michael Caine didn't even lift an eyelid. "You think those old pedants don't know how to swear? In fact, they live in the greenhouse of Hollywood, and their daily job is to talk behind people's backs and gossip about others. God, that's the only thing they're good at."

"You can absolutely get rid of them. All you need to do is be thick-skinned, pretend you don't know they heard you, and pretend you're just talking behind their backs."

"As long as you remain calm and composed, they won't expose the truth and then play along with your act."

"Imagine they hate you to the core behind your back, but on the surface they have to flatter you and keep smiling. Haha, how interesting would that be? That's the kind of party worth looking forward to."

Anson slightly raised his chin, a smile playing on his lips. "Sir Kane, why do I feel like you're stirring things up?"

Michael Caine nodded. "Yes, your understanding is correct."

Anson: ...

Scarlett laughed, breaking the silence. She waved her hands sheepishly, "You guys continue, continue, just pretend I'm not here."

Michael Caine, looking completely unfazed, said, "The Oscars are so boring these days, and the BAFTAs are just as dull, like a stagnant pool."

"I need some gossip, I need some drama, I need some fresh blood, instead of those old guys who keep talking about biographies and writing about their past achievements. It's the 21st century now, it's time to open our arms and accept some new things."

“Hmm…” Anson murmured meaningfully, drawing out the last syllable, “That’s what the two-time Oscar winner for Best Supporting Actor said.”

Michael Caine exhaled another smoke ring. "Yes, that's it. Those two Oscars are in the past. We shouldn't dwell on the past. I have no intention of putting those two trophies up high for people to kneel on."

This magnanimity and breadth of mind are truly remarkable.

Now, Anson finally understands why, among those veteran British actors, Michael Caine always seems to stand out and look different from the others.

Michael Caine seemed completely unaware of the turmoil raging in Anson's mind at that very moment—

Or perhaps they simply don't care.

But then he raised an eyebrow and looked at Anson, "If you're going to follow in my footsteps and play their game, God, you should first ruin that face, or spend forty years in Hollywood, working diligently and dedicating yourself like a cow, and maybe then they'll finally notice you."

"Oh. No. Not necessarily. Look at Peter O'Tool, how many Oscar nominations has he received so far?"

"Five, six, or seven times, I suppose. And he's over seventy now. But no, still no awards. They just let that poor guy Peter attend award ceremonies again and again, expose himself to the cameras again and again, and leave disappointed and a laughingstock."

"Poor old Peter, he has been tortured to the point of losing his will to fight."

Peter O'Toole, an Irish actor, starred in "Lawrence of Arabia." He and Michael Caine were contemporaries, only one year apart in age, but their acting careers have clearly taken very different paths.

Michael Kane looked at Anson and scrutinized him closely.

"No, you don't want to."

"With such a beautiful face, why torture yourself? Why ruin yourself to prove you can act? Only by getting fat, ugly, slovenly, and decadent can you act? Damn God."

"So, don't play their games, let them all go to hell."

(End of this chapter)