The Best Actor in the Vase of Meiyu

Chapter 2094 A glance for ten thousand years

The atmosphere was thick with unease.

The cells and corridors were empty; neither prisoners nor guards could be seen. Then, the guards hurried and rushed through the corridors.

Everything foreshadowed tension and unease.

After all, this is a prison, and the slightest mistake could lead to disaster.

boom!
The jailer smashed open a large door, and a dense crowd rushed out, a wave of heat emanating from them, their frenzy immediately apparent.

It turned out that the prisoners were here, raising their hands high and clapping enthusiastically and excitedly, mixed with whistles and cheers, making a great commotion.

It was only then that I realized the oppressive drumbeats in the air weren't from a drum kit or a jazz drum set, but from the sound of hands striking the drums, getting faster and faster.

Clap, clap.

Not just hands, but also feet, using both hands and feet together, the applause and footsteps overlapped, evolving into a rolling heat wave that filled the entire space with a ferocious display.

They fell into a frenzy.

If it were a music festival? Everything would be perfect.

But what if it's a prison?

Fanaticism means being out of control, and being out of control means danger. No wonder the prison guards were on high alert, and unease permeated the air.

At this moment, the three band members standing on the stage could also feel the heat wave in front of them rising steadily, seemingly about to get out of control at any moment.

The three exchanged glances in silence, but there was no answer. Finally, the guitarist turned to look at the door on the other side, a hint of worry in his eyes.

Behind the main gate is a woodworking room with a saw and a glass of water.

The thunderous applause reverberated in the air, causing ripples to spread across the water in the glass.

A hand reached in from below the lens, but instead of grabbing the water glass, it was using its thumb to caress the sharp blade of the wood saw, as if it were studying something.

The camera pans up, and Anson Wood's handsome face comes into view, taking up two-thirds of the screen and completely dominating the entire field of vision.

In an instant, the entire audience held their breath, and there was not a sound.

He stared intently at the saw blade, his face expressionless, devoid of any particular expression, calm, even indifferent.

They studied it with utmost concentration, as if it were the only important thing in the world.

However, her forehead and philtrum were slightly sweaty, her cheeks were flushed, her eyelids were lowered, and her thick, long eyelashes cast shadows that obscured her eyes.

Although you can't see into their eyes, you can still picture the surging emotions in their mind from the focus between their brows.

So, when you focus intently on the blade and are completely absorbed in it, what images come to mind?

A sense of dread instantly gripped the hearts of the audience. Even though there was nothing on the screen, their imaginations completely took control of their minds.

The camera zoomed in step by step, until that handsome face filled the frame completely. Although he had no expression or movement, the subtle emotions between his brows seemed to become clearer and clearer. His eyelashes trembled slightly in the dim light, concealing all his thoughts, as if he were slowly sliding into darkness.

A hint of determination shone through his calm demeanor.

"...Mr. Cash?"

Someone broke the silence, hesitantly calling out.

Unfortunately, it had no effect. The face displayed on the big screen was a perfect one-to-one scale, with every pore and wrinkle clearly visible. The stubble that had reappeared after being shaved was also clearly visible, revealing all the advantages and disadvantages.

Yet it still captivates the eye, drawing you in with the delicate contours of its features, tracing its strong eyebrows and thick eyelashes, creating an irresistible urge to reach out and touch it.

So much so that they forgot to breathe.

"Mr. Cash?" someone called out again, but the face remained expressionless and unmoved. However, when the camera zoomed in to the extreme, exposing every subtle change in expression, the slightly trembling eyelashes betrayed the truth, but did not give the audience a chance to see it, completely obscuring the light in the eyes.

He even lowered his eyelids further, completely blocking the probing gazes of others, and with a slight movement of his eyeballs beneath his eyelids, he grabbed the audience's ankles and pulled them down without warning—

"JR!"

Daystown, Arkansas, 1944.

Time slips into memories.

"JR, turn off the radio and go to sleep!" That rough and irritable voice clearly belonged to the father.

However, the father did not appear in the shot; instead, a handsome young man gazed at the blurry profile in the foreground of the camera and gave a gentle smile. "JR, change the channel. Turn it off."

The person in the close-up view kept glancing at the handsome young man out of the corner of their eye. Upon hearing the order, they pursed their lips, let out a sigh, looking slightly annoyed, but still turned the radio volume down to the lowest setting. They rested their hands on the table, chin drooping on their crossed arms, staring at the radio in front of them, then changed the channel, pressing their ear against it.

A smile gently rose as she listened to a young girl's voice singing on the radio, "Guess which Carter it is?"

"Anita?"

The boy shook his head, revealing a clean smile. "No, Joan."

Sure enough, the radio announcer's voice came through immediately afterward, "This is ten-year-old Joan bringing you..."

Bang bang bang!
The conversation was interrupted again, and a rude and brutal voice pierced through the walls, the forceful pounding of the walls causing the entire room to tremble slightly.

"Turn it off. Right now. Do you really want me to come in?"

The boy stood up, turned off the radio, and patted the boy's head. "Go to sleep."

Now, the Lumière Hall can finally breathe again—

Flowing clouds and flowing water, all in one go.

The seemingly simple shots connect Johnny Cash's adulthood and adolescence, throwing out a lure that pulls the audience down the rabbit hole of his memories.

The camera lens is the eye.

As an adult, Johnny Cash stared at the blades of a wood saw.

As a teenager, Johnny Cash watched his older brother.

In the black hole of memory, these two events are linked together, and without even words, a heavy atmosphere has already spread, making it untouchable.

but!

The real important person is Anson.

On the big screen, without makeup or lighting, she simply and unadorned herself, revealing her true self. Instead of being astonishing or disillusioning, she exuded a unique charm that captivated the audience after stripping away the embellishments. Moreover, she removed all performance techniques and embellishments, entering a state of returning to simplicity.

It speaks volumes without acting; silence speaks louder than words.

Anson can even maintain eye contact with the camera without needing exaggerated facial expressions, body language, or even dialogue. He simply stands calmly before the camera, yet one can find a subtle and rich surge of emotion on his face.

Everything has already been said and explained.

The director was bold and crazy enough to completely trust Anson, giving the narrative space entirely to that face that many people criticized as a pretty face, expressionless, and without expression in a 30-second close-up shot.

However, Anson withstood the test, truly withstood the test of the big screen, calmly and unhurriedly, without any ostentation, calmly drawing the audience into the story, demonstrating unparalleled confidence and strength.

With just one shot, the Lumière Hall has already been dragged down the rabbit hole.

(End of this chapter)