From Flower Vase to Film Emperor in Hollywood

Boiling.

Tense.

Deadlocked.

The air in Studio 24 was slightly stagnant, like amber, layering up to freeze the scene before them completely.

Countless gazes, mixed with anticipation, tension, curiosity, and excitement, weighed heavily on Michael's shoulders.

Michael could feel that energy too.

This was a good thing.

In Michael's view, the audience was smart; they could feel the atmosphere of the set through the screen, especially the audience of a sitcom.

If the atmosphere on set was tense and mistakes were frequent, those jokes and gags would inevitably seem clumsy, and the effect would be noticeably diminished.

But today, the entire set was relaxed and comfortable. Not only was the shooting going smoothly, but the chemistry between the actors was also creating unexpected effects.

Whether it was the director, the actors, or the other crew members, everyone was working more freely and with greater dedication, doubling the quality of the filming.

Far beyond expectations!

Michael couldn't find a reason to nitpick.

"Cut!"

Suddenly, Michael stood up. Although he was nearly fifty and his temples were streaked with gray, his passion for his work was still high and boiling.

"Perfect!"

Michael said loudly, his every gesture exuding a commanding and joyful aura, a wanton smile creeping onto his lips.

And then—

Boom!

With a single word, as if a spell had been broken, the energy in the entire room overflowed.

One, two, three!

In a bustling crowd, the audience members spontaneously stood up. Without needing any prompting from the stage assistants, they eagerly and irrationally released all their pent-up energy.

Guided purely by impulse, they clapped, cheered, and whistled, using all their strength to express their enthusiasm and excitement, igniting a frenzy that instantly swept through the studio, freely and wantonly immersed in it.

Clap clap clap!

Roar roar roar!

Applause and cheers rose in waves, switching to a carnival mode in a second.

The whole place was boiling.

As expected—

"Friends" was indeed the most influential and widely loved sitcom of the time, as evidenced by the audience's involvement and resonance.

Even Michael was taken aback.

This wasn't the first time Michael had directed "Friends," but it was the first time he had felt this unique atmosphere on set. The whole feeling was different.

Turning his head, he was met with a wave of fresh and vibrant faces, full of life. Even though he couldn't see their features or expressions clearly, the feeling of happiness and joy was so clear and direct.

Involuntarily, the corners of Michael's own mouth turned up in a smile.

And then.

Taking off his headphones and leaving the monitor, Michael started walking towards the actors—

For example, Alfonso Cuarón's "Children of Men" in 2006.

For example, Joe Wright's "Atonement" in 2007.

And now?

Although the entire shoot was going smoothly, it wasn't necessary for a sitcom.

Michael would still set up different camera positions to reshoot some scenes and complete the editing in post-production, constantly switching perspectives to increase vitality.

For sitcoms, the realism and recording of long takes seem too boring.

Of course, not being necessary was one thing, but the smoothness of the filming was another. So far, the filming situation today was still satisfactory.

"Okay, very good!"

Michael didn't hold back his applause, praising the actors.

"David, I always knew you were great, but your performance just now was still a pleasant surprise. The final ad-lib was captured by the camera."

"It seems everyone's in good form today. Maybe we can wrap up early."

"Here, I need to give Anson a special shout-out."

Swish, swish, swish.

All eyes turned to Anson, but not with jealousy, hatred, or provocation, but with a kind of scrutiny, a curious observation and exploration.

"The performance was very good. The entire rhythm and cadence were excellent, especially that accidental brush with David. Your handling was perfect."

As soon as Michael finished speaking, the voices of the others chattered in.

"Yeah, I almost thought it was going to be an NG."

"Your improvisation was too good."

"That explosive power can barely compare to Matthew's, hahaha."

"Very natural. You couldn't see any flaws at all."

"Did you guys see David's expression? I almost burst out laughing. Fortunately, David also braked in time and controlled himself, but that scene was really hilarious."

"Anson, are you sure this is your first time acting?"

A chaotic and surging chorus, finally, the gazes once again landed on Anson.

Anson had to admit that he hadn't gotten a word in.

This was his first time filming, and that wonderful feeling of being immersed in it, like a roller coaster, was not only exciting but also wonderful.

He hadn't had time to recover from the emotional impact of the first "Cut" when he felt the tacit understanding between these old friends and partners around him. The airtight conversation left no gaps at all. After a barrage of noise, he couldn't react at all, his head filled with question marks.

The feeling was like a summer downpour, appearing without warning, soaking him from the inside out. But before he could react, the downpour was over, and the dazzling golden sunlight shone down, enveloping him in a stuffy heat, making it hard to breathe.

Huff.

Finally, after a brief pause, Anson came back to his senses, looked up to meet everyone's eyes, and spread his hands, "Okay, I'll come clean. Actually, I'm a genius actor. I've acted in over thirty movies in my past life, and I've won so many awards my hands are sore."

One second, two seconds—

Collective laughter.

And not just any casual laughter. Unrestrained smiles were completely released, complementing the carnival atmosphere of the studio and becoming even more surging.

Matthew affectionately bumped Anson's shoulder, his eyebrows and the corners of his mouth full of smiles, "You're almost catching up to my level of humor."

Seeing this, David Schwimmer also bumped Anson on the other shoulder, laughing heartily.

Anson spread his hands, his face full of innocence:

See, I've already told you the truth, but you don't believe me. There's nothing I can do.