The Best Actor in the Vase of Meiyu

Chapter 2065 Let nature take its course
Martin was incredibly annoyed and didn't want to go out. He looked at Anson's security team, including Reese and Eduardo, who were ready to go immediately.

Anson gave Martin no room to refuse, turning around and walking away.

Martin felt a lump in his throat, and a string of curses escaped his lips as he hurled insults at Anson. But in the end, he obediently lowered his head and followed in Anson's footsteps.

Reese immediately followed, but seeing Anson's gaze, he and Eduardo distanced themselves slightly and did not follow closely.

Anson hadn't gone far, just strolling along the canal. Martin followed dejectedly beside Anson, his mind a jumble of thoughts that seemed about to explode.

"Excuse me, where is the Rose Garden?"

A voice came from ahead asking a question, followed by Anson's polite reply, "Just follow this road to the end, and that three-way intersection is it."

"I heard Anson Wood is filming there, is that true?"

"I heard that's how it is, but I haven't seen it."

"I'll go take a look, thanks!"

As the conversation went on, Martin stared dumbfounded at Anson, who was kindly giving directions, his words stuck in his throat, unsure how to respond.

Those frustrations, those anxieties, those angers—all became subtle and slightly absurd in the scene before me.

Martin stared blankly at the tourist's retreating figure. He just left like that? And Anson didn't seem to mind at all?

Martin was a little confused.

Anson's eyes flashed with a smile, but he didn't say anything more, looking at Martin, "Cigarettes?"

Martin took a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, lit one, and then offered the cigarette to Anson.

Unexpectedly, Anson refused.

Martin lit the candle, thinking Anson was about to give a lecture or some inspirational talk, but he was just annoyed and had no interest in listening to such things.

He knew their situation; it had been over three hours, and not a single shot was usable. He knew how bad things were without Anson needing to remind him.

What's absurd is that Bruges was overcast the whole time. From seven to ten o'clock, their breakfast coffee went through the process of being heated and cooled repeatedly, but the lighting didn't change much. It was as if they were trapped in a spacetime rift with nowhere to escape.

For a moment, he didn't know if this was a good thing or a bad thing, anyway... it just wouldn't end.

Martin... is trapped.

He knew he didn't need Anson's meddling or his long, tedious lectures. He felt he might need to use all his strength to control the urge to refute Anson and launch an attack.

Instead of Anson speaking, Martin couldn't hold back any longer and asked, "Why did you call me out here?"

“Let’s get some fresh air,” Anson said.

Martin: ...

Who would have thought that when Anson said he wanted to "go for a walk," he actually meant just to go for a walk? Martin was speechless.

So, is this... a good thing...?

Martin was somewhat confused.

But miraculously, Anson didn't speak. Martin's chaotic thoughts gradually settled down in the cold March wind of Bruges. The stuffy heat of being trapped indoors quietly dissipated, and the worries and entanglements that had been weighing on his heart seemed to ease a little.

The two didn't go far. After walking a short distance and waiting for Martin to finish his cigarette, Anson turned back and silently continued along the canal.

It was just a walk, really.

The rose garden was back in sight, and Martin thought Anson would say something, offer his opinion on the situation. He worried that this might be the most disastrous filming experience for both Brendan and Anson in their combined careers, but... nothing happened.

Anson actually went back like that, pushed open the hotel door, and went straight inside.

Martin lagged behind, dumbfounded, unsure of Anson's intentions. But thinking back to his earlier tension and frustration, he couldn't help but find it amusing.

When I pushed open the hotel door again, my steps were a little lighter, and I didn't know when my tense shoulders had relaxed.

Martin thought the attention would be focused on him, but Anson went in first and easily drew all eyes to him.

Just then, they heard Brendan's voice, "...How did the talks go?"

“It’s just a breeze,” Anson said.

Obviously, nobody believed it.

In the small family-run guesthouse, all eyes were fixed on Anson, trying to discern the truth from the details of his expression.

No one dared to confront Anson about his lies, but his shifty eyes clearly conveyed "I don't believe you," and you could almost hear the words in them.

Unfortunately, no one could find any truth in Anson's expression.

then.

The crowd of gazes shifted to Martin, filled with secretive inquiry and scrutiny. Martin finally realized the pressure Anson was putting on him.

Martin couldn't help but feel amused and exasperated. He subconsciously glanced at Anson, and after a brief exchange of glances, they surprisingly shared a tacit understanding, and the corners of their mouths both turned up.

Indeed, Martin was in poor condition and had no idea what he was doing; in fact, Anson wasn't much better off.

The difference is that Anson knows what he's doing, he just doesn't do it well.

The key to method acting is to immerse yourself in the role, relax, and let your instincts and intuition guide your performance so that it flows naturally.

The key to performance acting lies in control. To some extent, it requires transcending the character, like manipulating a puppet, controlling one's own expressions and body language, keeping a clear mind, and knowing exactly what one is doing and how one should do it. One should trust technique rather than intuition.

For Anson, the two performance styles are completely different, and he needs time to adapt; more importantly, his skills are still raw and unpolished, so he cannot prepare to grasp the nuances.

In his numerous outtakes, his performances were either too exaggerated and greasy, a completely cartoonish style that left one speechless, as if he couldn't act at all and was just awkwardly forcing it out; or too light and restrained, failing to capture the character image in his mind, and the entire film's atmosphere was slowly dragged into an abyss by the gloom of Bruges—

It's not even comparable to the original version from the previous life; it might even completely ruin the script.

At that point, Anson's first major setback in his career may truly be about to arrive.

Then, Anson realized the key.

He was still too tense. The more he tried to do well, the more likely he was to lose the natural flow of his performance because of the tension. The more effort he put in, the stiffer his body and facial muscles became.

Most importantly, the harder you work, the more serious you become in the atmosphere of the crew, the set, and the characters.

Losing one's true self.

In comedy, if the actors themselves don't enjoy performing, how can the atmosphere and charisma they convey make the audience feel relaxed?

So Anson suggested getting some fresh air, not just to rest, but also to clear his head and throw all those chaotic thoughts into the canal.

The first step to getting into character is for him to feel relaxed.

(End of this chapter)