The Best Actor in the Vase of Meiyu

Chapter 2083 Special Agents
"Wow, I mean... wow!"

"Unbelievable. My head is still spinning, and my brain can't process it."

"How on earth did he do it?"

"Did he write the script himself again this time?"

"My internal organs are churning, and to be honest, I feel a little nauseous."

fanaticism!

Initially, there were concerns that Thierry Frémaux, in his first stint as creative director of the Cannes Film Festival, might make inexperienced mistakes, leading to scheduling conflicts. However, "Match Point," a film not in competition, unexpectedly stole all the attention, igniting a Hollywood effect at Cannes. The usually reserved and serious Michael Haneke was likely to be overshadowed by the spotlight.

Hidden cameras may be met with indifference, disappearing as soon as they appear and being forgotten without making a fuss.

however!
No, not only did not, but the entire situation reversed in an instant.

After the premiere of "Hidden Camera," all the voices in Cannes surged forth like a torrent of passion. At this moment, no one remembered Woody Allen's "Match Point." The heated discussions all revolved around Michael Haneke, easily igniting the first wave of fervor at the Cannes Film Festival.

It's not that "Match Point" is bad; it's definitely Woody Allen's best film in ten years. It's just that "Hidden Camera" is so outstanding, unbelievably good.

In an instant, all the energy was unleashed. Awe, surprise, and shock intertwined. On the first day of the film festival, the frenzy had already swept across the country. Calls for the "Patriots of the Year" were everywhere. Even without words, one could feel the intense surge of emotions from the noise and heat.

As Roger Albert weaved through the crowd, he pushed open the door of the coffee shop in front of him, and a wave of heat hit him, making him involuntarily step back.

The narrow space was packed with people, every nook and cranny was full of them, but most of them were in line, clearly preparing to leave with their coffee and croissants.

During the film festival, rushing between events is the norm, and everyone is equally exhausted. Individual bloggers and top media outlets are no exception. There's no time to sit down for a meal, let alone stand on the street and chat. The entire time is spent rushing between events.

I'm either watching a movie or on my way to watch a movie.

Perhaps the only exception is the short time spent sitting down to write an article; watching movies is work, and so is reviewing movies.

Roger glanced around, then instead of heading to the counter, he went to a corner by the window and stopped in front of a small round table. "May I sit here?"

The young man sitting at the small round table quickly gathered the documents on the table and placed them at his feet, then moved his laptop slightly. "Of course!"

That was all. Without saying much more, his hands flew across the keyboard, and Roger was all too familiar with the image of someone completely absorbed in his work.

Roger didn't disturb the other person. He gestured to the waiter, ordered coffee, sandwiches, and tiramisu, and then took out a small notepad from his pocket. He used a pencil to jot down some keywords, turning the inspiration in his mind into dots, leaving a trace first.

There's nothing I can do; as you get older, you become more forgetful.

A short while later, the young man in front of me finally finished. He quickly read it again, worked for a while longer, and pressed the enter key. Just as he was about to breathe a sigh of relief, he froze on the spot, unable to believe his eyes. Frustrated, he grabbed his hair and stared intently at the screen.

Roger noticed, "Wait patiently for a while. The network signal here is bad and intermittent; but to be honest, this should be the best network signal around the movie palace."

The young man looked up, paused slightly when he saw Roger, and then chuckled, “It seems this is no longer a secret in Cannes.”

“Actually, all we need are those five seconds to send the email, but those five seconds are the key to connecting the Atlantic,” Roger joked. “Ha!” The young man raised his hands high, his eyes bright, a smile spreading across his face. “Three seconds. That’s exactly what I need!”

It seems the email was sent successfully.

Roger could feel the joy, and his mood brightened as well. "The first article? I've heard about it, but I don't think the New York Times is playing the fair game this time. All eyes will be on them. They got it without any effort. I'm afraid even the official program will have to take a backseat."

"Roger, is this an attack?" the young man laughed.

Roger shook his head. "No, it's envy."

"Haha. I don't think so. People don't even think I'm a good actor, so how could they care if I'm a good film critic?"

"No, you're wrong. For better or for worse, the point is that you are 'Anson-Wood'."

Anson, sitting across from him, spread his hands. "I guess I should shut up all those doubts. I have to be myself, or I can't live."

Roger couldn't help but burst out laughing at her nonchalant demeanor.

Anson had several purposes for his trip to Cannes: promoting the Dior and Adidas collaboration, producing "Sin City," acting in "Walk the Line," and also receiving an invitation from The New York Times to write a column dedicated to his impressions of Cannes.

It's not a travelogue, it's a film review.

This was clearly a groundbreaking move, and one can imagine the uproar that engulfed the North American continent at that moment.

As Anson said, as an actor, he still carries a lot of controversy, but now the New York Times has made an unprecedented move by inviting Anson to be a film critic.

Although not a member of the Cannes jury, the authority and status of The New York Times are undeniable, and its impact is no less significant than that of joining a film festival jury.

It's clear to anyone with eyes to see that The New York Times seized on a hot topic from the Cannes Film Festival two years ago, attempting to promote Anson's identity as a film enthusiast and to truly let people feel Anson's aesthetic level, not only as an actor and producer, but also as a film lover.

But the question is, is Anson's cinematic aesthetic genuine, or is it the result of careful packaging?

So, is this a publicity stunt or a genuine collaboration?
Many people see The New York Times as cunning and opportunistic, because everyone knows that the general public doesn't care about Anson's aesthetic preferences or the quality of the films at the Cannes Film Festival. They simply want to see Anson's sharp film reviews, watch the drama unfold, and enjoy the gossip.

In other words, The New York Times had ulterior motives from the start; what they cared about was not the film reviews themselves, but the attention brought by Anson's traffic.

Especially after the Oscars, The New York Times could not have been unaware of Anson's impact on the Academy. However, instead of siding with the traditional academics, The New York Times promoted and shaped Anson's image, further bolstering Anson's confidence in confronting the Academy.

Is the goal really that simple?

Opinions vary, and there's a lot of discussion. This shows Anson's influence. Even a sneeze can spark a flood of opinions and viewpoints. And now it's not just about jealousy, but because Anson truly has the ability to leverage and distribute benefits.

When faced with tangible benefits, no one can escape the temptation.

But... does Anson care?

(End of this chapter)