From Flower Vase to Film Emperor in Hollywood

“The day is ending…”

“As it does every day…”

“It departs. Its steps are many, filling other places…”

“You depart, here, becoming increasingly empty, giving way to nothingness…”

“She… is gone…”

Sorry, it's not that Anson isn't speaking like a normal person, but rather that James and Seth aren't. Their lines are profound and difficult to understand, mixed with inexplicable Latin and French, to the point that Anson couldn't help but start questioning his life—

Could it be that after transmigrating, the language pack requires an additional patch?

The problem is that Anson can understand every word and phrase, but when combined, they become dizzying, and he has no idea what the actors are performing; moreover, there's no foreshadowing or explanation, it just hits you head-on right from the start, leaving you completely bewildered.

On the stage, two actors stood in the left corner, both facing the same direction, striking a cold and aloof pose as they spoke. One person hadn't finished speaking before the other interrupted, and before the latter had finished, the former interrupted again, as if they were performing a coordinated juggling act.

Then.

James crossed the stage horizontally from the rear, silently, like a ghost, expressionless and with empty eyes, immersed in the worldview of “A Chinese Ghost Story,” completely out of sync with everyone else.

This…

Anson looked down at the theater program—

“Hole”.

There was also some small print in the lower left corner, barely noticeable unless you looked closely:

Two hours and thirty minutes with no intermission.

Anson thought it was because his artistic cultivation wasn't sufficient, and he couldn't grasp James and Seth's creative intentions. What happened to the potty humor comedy they promised?

But when he turned his head.

Chris had already started nodding off, and shiny drool was sliding from the corner of his mouth.

Judd, on the other hand, had pulled out two hamburgers and was wolfing them down, stuffing them into his mouth as if afraid of being discovered, taking a bite and then hiding the hamburger in the shadow of the seat in front of him, chewing slowly with his mouth closed.

A producer was playing Snake on his phone between his knees, supporting his chin with one hand while pretending to be intently watching the performance, but his eyes were completely on the phone.

A reporter was studying the water stain pattern on the seat, as if it were a masterpiece left behind by Michelangelo.

As for the agent?

His fingers were flying across the phone keyboard, working tirelessly even in the theater, processing texts and emails every minute. Whether it was related to tonight's play or the work of other actors was unknown, but his thumb never stopped moving.

Is this really okay?

What Anson didn't know was that performance art is also art, and it doesn't matter if you don't understand it.

In Hollywood, not all casting directors trust casting companies; they often trust their own intuition and inspiration more. So they constantly watch movies, TV shows, and plays, using their own eyes to search, and although it may seem clumsy, they are always able to discover true gems.

Some directors are like that too, Quentin Tarantino, Joel and Ethan Coen, Noah Baumbach, and so on. In addition, some big-name producers are no exception.

They often appear in cinemas, theaters, opera houses, and other places, and they are not limited to artistic types. Whether it's a blockbuster or a niche experimental drama, they are willing to show their support with practical actions, loving their work from the bottom of their hearts and enjoying it.

At the same time, they hope to discover a gem.

It is precisely because of this that James and Seth's experimental drama received support from the agent.

Who knows?

Maybe a producer or casting director will see this drama and see their potential, and then give them a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity?

Or perhaps they can create an image and reputation of pursuing art through this drama, spread it in Hollywood, and give producers a good impression?

Seth was holding a guitar, sitting in front of the stage, like a gluttonous Cupid, and began to play and sing, with the spotlight shining down.

It seemed like this was a very important scene, but why it was important, where it was important, and why it was presented in this way, no one knew, and no one dared to ask.

But!

The moment the performance ended and the lights dimmed, applause surged instantly.

Clap, clap clap clap.

This was the signal.

The people who were busy with their own affairs a second ago, whether sending text messages on their phones, reading newspapers, secretly eating potato chips, or supporting their heads and secretly sleeping.

In the next second, they woke up in unison, stood up with lightning speed, looked at the stage with radiant faces, and gave warm applause.

In that manner and posture, it was as if they had just appreciated a timeless masterpiece.

Of course, Chris and Anson were no exception.

This was Anson's first time in such a situation, but he was only half a beat late, and then he stood up unhurriedly, applauding and admiring:

Looking at those faces wearing masks and performing with all their hearts, with tears in their eyes and praising them endlessly, the acting skills of one or two of them were not inferior to the actors on the stage.

This scene was much more exciting than tonight's play.

Chris's sleepiness finally disappeared completely. Noticing Anson's gaze, he looked around, and couldn't help but recall the conversation before departure. He looked back at Anson, and the two exchanged a tacit look. Chris almost burst out laughing on the spot.

Using all his strength, Chris barely managed to control himself.

However, the next second.

There was a figure directly in front, raising his hands high, clapping vigorously, and shouting loudly, “Masterpiece! Masterpiece!”

While shouting, he choked up and hurriedly wiped the tears from the corner of his eyes with his right hand, and immediately continued to applaud.

The scene was close at hand, a sincere performance.

Pfft.

Chris was only a hair's breadth away from losing it, and quickly lowered his head, but his shoulders still couldn't help but twitch.

Anson was no exception, but he controlled himself and instead watched the show with the mood of appreciating a mime.

In his previous life, he had seen too many scenes of fangirls crying over the emotionless acting of popular idols; the scene in front of him was just a small matter.

Sure enough, entertainment is a circle. Across the Pacific Ocean, the essence of the entertainment industries on both continents is the same.

Just at this moment, Anson's peripheral vision noticed a figure diagonally in front of him—

Looking around with a face full of astonishment and questioning of life, his eyes were filled with shock. No language was needed to interpret the emotions in his eyes:

Could it be that I'm not watching the same play as everyone else? Am I crazy, or is the whole audience crazy? What exactly is going on?

That expression was like Truman in “The Truman Show” finally discovering that he was living in a fake world where everyone was performing, exceptionally wonderful.

It turned out that there was still a normal person in the Hayward Theater this afternoon.