America: From a Fallen Child Star to the Head of the University of the West

Chapter 104 Becoming a Deer?

Inside a rented photography studio in Los Angeles, California.

At 10 a.m., sunlight streamed through the high windows onto the green screen. Sean Penn stood under the lights, holding a stack of cue cards, his brow slightly furrowed.

"One more take," the director, a middle-aged man wearing a baseball cap, said, his tone now sounding impatient. "Try a more impassioned tone this time."

It's as if everything has gone back to the days of filming TV series and movies —

Sean cleared his throat and flashed the carefully practiced smile at the camera.

"Unity, not division!" he said loudly, his arm making a powerful arc in the air.

"Stop." George Kelly's voice came from behind the monitor as he took off his reading glasses. "No, this sounds too much like Obama's Hope and Change—it lacks originality. Besides, the word 'unity' has been overused; it sounds like the platitudes every politician spouts."

"Hey, Kelly! This is my original work," Sean said helplessly.

"Wasn't it Franklin's original work?"

The director's lips twitched slightly, and the number above his head dropped from [15] to [5]. "Mr. Kelly, we're doing a test here. Shouldn't we have him read out all the alternatives?"

"Testing also needs standards." Kelly remained unmoved, turning to Sean, "Next."

That damn old man—

Sean glanced down at the cue cards and changed to a more conversational tone: "Listen to your voices, build our future."

"Stop." Kelly interrupted him almost immediately. "It's too mild, like a community library sign. What we need are slogans that people remember and that inspire action, not platitudes."

The director took a deep breath, clearly trying to suppress his emotions. "Mr. Kelly, this is the eighth stop today. We charge by the hour for the studio rental."

"It's precisely because money shouldn't be wasted that we need to strive for perfection," Kelly replied calmly, then gestured to Sean, "Let's continue."

Sean read the next line: "Fight for ordinary people."

"That's too general. Which politician doesn't claim to be fighting for ordinary people?"

"New direction, new commitment."

"Space Hole"

"Real choices, real change."

The phrase "still empty, yet real" has lost its power in political discourse due to overuse.

"Reignite the American Dream."

"This is slightly better, but—it's still not unique enough. It sounds like something a second-tier candidate would say at a rally in Iowa."

The director finally couldn't take it anymore and slammed the headphones onto the chair, just as the clock struck "bang".

"Mr. Kelly! We're here to film a 30-second campaign stunt, not to have a philosophical debate! If you call 'stop' every three seconds, we won't have enough usable footage even if we shoot until tomorrow! My team needs to eat and follow the union's working hours rules!" he said.

The atmosphere in the studio instantly became somewhat awkward. The lighting technicians and camera assistants exchanged glances, and the numbers above their heads began to drop slightly. Sean could even see the bright red "-10" above the director's head.

Embarrassed, Kelly scratched his head, looked at the bewildered crowd, and tried to tell a lame joke.

"Okay, relax, kid. You know what political slogans and underwear have in common? They both need to be changed frequently, and most importantly, they don't have to look good, they have to fit well."

A dead silence.

Only Xiao Enqian chuckled twice.

He tried to salvage the situation: "Kelly, this joke—may need a little context."

"Looks like I'm really not cut out for jokes," Kelly admitted, then turned to the director. "I apologize, I was too harsh earlier. You're right, we're here to film a comedy, not for an academic seminar. Pan, let's call it a day. We can go back and pick some more; we'll find something suitable."

The director's expression softened slightly, and the number returned to [-2]. "Alright. So, what footage did we shoot today—"

"Let's edit a version first and see how it goes," Sean chimed in. "We need to see how it looks on camera. The slogans can be adjusted with post-production dubbing. Or we can explore further collaboration opportunities."

The director nodded and began directing the team to pack up the equipment.

As they left the studio, Sean and Kelly walked side by side towards the parking lot. The afternoon sun was a bit too bright, so Sean put on sunglasses.

"Kelly, how's the data for the small donation website going?" he asked.

Kelly pulled a tablet from his briefcase and scrolled through it as he walked, his demeanor surprisingly practiced for an older man. "In the past 48 hours, we've added 1,200 new donors, with an average donation of $47. The buzz generated by the debate is translating into real support, but not fast enough. We need a bigger catalyst to pull those who are still observing in."

"You mean that policy framework regarding technology and employment?"

“Yes.” Kelly put away his tablet and looked at Sean seriously. “You can’t go far by just relying on debates and personal stories to attract attention. I’ve said it many times, people will eventually ask: So what exactly are you going to do? What are your specific plans?”

"We need a clear, attractive policy framework that can spark widespread discussion. This is not only an opportunity to attract attention, but small donors who agree with your vision will be more willing to continue donating and even mobilize those around them."

He paused for a moment: "Moreover, I think the occasion for releasing the policy framework should be a bit more formal."

If possible, I would like you to invite Musk to attend in person.

Sean raised an eyebrow: "Lock horse? Kelly, did I hear that right? You, an old leftist, inviting Silicon Valley giants to endorse you, don't you feel nauseous?"

Kelly smiled wryly: "Ideals are ideals, and reality is reality. Kid, compared to those who talk big but don't actually do anything, sometimes we have to learn to utilize those who are at least 'grounded' and taking action. Even if their 'ground' is Wall Street. Musk has influence, media spotlight, and money. We can—well, for example, use his fame to host a decent launch event and attract more people. As for what happens after that, we'll deal with that later."

"You mean, we'll swindle his money and influence, and then do our own thing?" Sean laughed.

"I prefer to call it a strategic partnership." Kelly winked. "Politics is, after all, the art of compromise."

The two walked to the parking area and found Vincent and Matthew chatting by the car. Matthew was gesturing wildly as he spoke, while Vincent had his arms crossed and a rare relaxed smile on his face. The numbers above their heads were [85] and [80] respectively, and the distance between them was much closer than usual, suggesting a much closer relationship.

"What are you chatting about that makes you so happy?" Sean walked over.

Matthew turned his head, a smile still lingering on his face: "Mr. Carter was telling me about an absurd case he took on when he first started out, where the client actually wanted to use a cat as the main witness."

Vincent shrugged. "That cat was indeed quite intelligent, but the judge obviously didn't think so."

"How's the filming going, Mr. Pan?" Matthew, no longer concerned about the cat, turned to Sean and asked, "Did you get any satisfactory shots?"

Sean opened the car door: "We've shot quite a bit of footage, but the slogan test results weren't ideal. Mr. Kelly rejected almost all the options. I guess we'll have to wait until the editing is done to see the overall feel before making a decision."

After saying that, the four of them got into the car, Vincent started the engine, and the car slowly drove out of the parking lot.

"Speaking of slogans," Vincent glanced at Sean in the rearview mirror, "I personally think there's no need to overthink it. The important thing isn't what we think, but what you think, Pan. Choose one that you truly believe in."

It's not awkward to say it. Instead of racking your brains to come up with a catchy phrase like "Make America Great Again," choose something that resonates with you and then make it powerful through repeated communication.

Matthew turned around from the front row, his eyes shining: "I have an idea! How about calling it 'Becoming a Deer'?"

A brief silence fell over the car.

"A deer?" Sean repeated. "You mean—that kind of animal?"

"Yes, a bull moose!" Matthew explained excitedly. "But it's not actually an animal. We all know about Theodore Roosevelt. He was a Republican, but later, dissatisfied with the party's corruption and conservatism, he formed his own 'Bull Moose Party' to run for president. Although he didn't win, he received the highest percentage of votes ever for a third-party candidate! I think this is somewhat similar to your situation as an independent candidate challenging the two-party system. 'Becoming a bull moose' symbolizes resilience, challenging the status quo, and forging your own path!"

Sean and Kelly exchanged a glance. The idea—it was interesting, but perhaps a bit too steeped in historical context.

“Matthew,” Sean said carefully, “the idea is good, but isn’t it a bit too niche? Most voters probably don’t even know what the Elk Party is. And the elk sounds a bit comical, not serious enough.”

“I think it’s possible,” Kelly suddenly spoke, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “To become a deer”—short, powerful, and with a story. And precisely because most people don’t know it, we have the opportunity to explain it, to give it meaning. That in itself can be a topic for discussion.”

He grew more and more excited as he spoke, patting the driver's seat: "Turn around, Carter. Let's go back and, while the iron is hot, have Sean shoot a few more takes with this slogan!"

Vincent paused for a moment: "Now? We just came out."

"Inspiration waits for no one!" Kelly said. "And the studio time isn't quite up yet, is it? Let's hurry up and finish a few takes, maybe that'll be it."

Left with no other option, Vincent had to make a U-turn at the next intersection. Ten minutes later, they were back at the studio.

However, instead of a warm welcome, they were greeted by faces etched with displeasure. The filming crew, who had just returned, were packing up their equipment when the director's brow furrowed immediately upon seeing them.

"Mr. Kelly, Mr. Pan," the director said in a restrained tone, but the number above his head had already dropped to [-25], "I thought our work for today was finished."

"We have a new idea," Kelly tried to explain, "we just need to shoot a few more takes, and soon—"

"Sorry, no," the director interrupted him. "My team has been working for over eight hours straight. According to union rules, we have to wrap up now, or we'll have to pay hefty overtime fees. And—"

He finally looked at Sean, his tone laced with sarcasm, "Mr. Pan, haven't you always said you represent the vast majority of workers and respect workers' rights? Forcing us to violate the Trade Union Law and work overtime doesn't quite fit your image."

Don't forget, you yourself are an actor; you should know the rules of the industry.

These words left Kelly speechless for a moment. Sean also felt somewhat embarrassed; he had indeed overlooked this point. In Hollywood, the power of unions is real, making violations of the rules very costly, and more importantly, it would indeed damage the image he had worked hard to cultivate of being compassionate towards ordinary people.