"Cut!"
A voice broke the silence in the apartment, and at the same time, it shattered the fourth wall, pulling everyone from the film back into reality. The thoughts that had stopped in their tracks suddenly surged again, and finally, people remembered to breathe. They gasped for air, but could only inhale the hot air mixed with carbon dioxide, making their hearts race.
One by one, they turned their gazes towards the source of the voice, confused and annoyed—wasn't the scene still being filmed? Who interrupted it?
It was Michel Gondry.
Once they realized it was the director, the atmosphere in the apartment became awkward.
In this scene, it was clear that there was still interaction between Clementine and Joel. Even if they put aside how to shoot Joel's scenes for a moment, at least they could have finished filming Clementine's shots in the apartment.
But Michel had stopped the shoot.
What does that mean...?
But why?
Wasn't the scene good enough?
The tension between irresistible impulses and emotional collapse, the awkward fumbling in the midst of overwhelming emotions, the push-and-pull, the intricate and vivid richness of it all—it was captivating, drawing people in without them even realizing it.
A pang of anxiety.
It was brilliant—so brilliant it made people forget to breathe.
Kate—no, not Kate, it was fully Clementine.
Lively, outgoing, passionate, and brave, yet behind all that energy was a faint hint of insecurity. Unintentionally, she revealed her fear of lacking a sense of safety, so she burrowed into the warmth of a safe harbor, greedy for a moment of peace.
Once she was sure of what she wanted, she pursued it boldly and took the initiative.
That purity, like a flame.
Though Hollywood has never been short of praise for Kate, having received widespread acclaim and even an Oscar nomination for Sense and Sensibility, it seemed like after Titanic, she had faded from view, completely overshadowed by the idol status the film brought her.
A talent gone to waste.
While Hollywood doesn't have a direct equivalent to the Chinese saying "the tragedy of Yong," which refers to wasted potential, there are countless stories of young stars fading into obscurity after their early fame. After a few sighs, no one cares anymore—
Because it happens too often.
There's always the next genius, always the next superstar.
Kate?
No exception.
Among the masses, she was just ordinary, much like Leonardo DiCaprio.
Didn't Leonardo finally get to work with his dream director Martin Scorsese? Yet in Gangs of New York, his performance came off as exaggerated and over-the-top, completely overshadowed by Daniel Day-Lewis.
So, like Leonardo, Kate's situation didn't garner much sympathy.
But today, tonight, just now—
Kate brought a fresh and captivating performance with a completely different role, showing no trace of herself—she was Clementine, a woman from Venus who bravely faced her true emotions.
Everything was seamless, once again reviving the praise that had once surrounded Kate.
However, the core of the entire performance was Anson.
No one expected that.
A quiet, introverted, shy man who barely spoke throughout the scene, always in a passive position, constantly avoiding and dodging, his gaze even unclear—yet he set the tone for the entire scene.
It was astonishing.
It wasn't just about facial expressions and dialogue; even in scenes without lines, the subtle changes in his gaze, body language, and even his breathing conveyed Joel's emotional turmoil.
Anson truly breathed life into the character, making you feel the conservatism, stubbornness, and stability of Joel, while also exuding a peculiar charm. He even established the core tone of the entire story.
A sense of déjà vu.
This wasn't as apparent with Clementine, because the film's narrative perspective was rooted in Joel, and through him, the initial sense of strangeness was conveyed in the early scenes. Clementine, by nature, was more carefree, so even if she sensed that something felt familiar, she didn't dwell on it and accepted everything with open arms.
As a result, everything was shown through Joel.
Anson delivered a flawless performance.
From the inevitable pull to the helpless surrender and the desperate, moth-to-flame intensity, to the sudden awakening when the pain became too much—Joel, in nearly a state of fleeing, hurriedly escaped.
Strange, awkward, yet endearing.
The stiffness and clumsiness added a quirky humor to the scene, bringing a slight comic-book feel, without going over the top, but just enough to add a bit of lightness to the whole moment.
Stunning.
That's the word—stunning.
Though the industry has showered Anson with endless praise, and the entire crew had been eagerly anticipating his chemistry, to be honest, in the balance between idol and actor, people's impressions of Anson had started leaning slightly towards "idol." Even with high expectations, they were tempered.
It wasn't so much about expecting a brilliant performance from Anson, but rather about hoping he would once again bring his personal charm to the role.
And of course, Anson did exude charm—but in a completely unexpected way.
Brooding, sorrowful, broken.
This Anson was a complete 180-degree turn from any previous role or appearance, yet he maintained a unique allure within this blue-hued mood.
He made it impossible to look away.
And this charisma fused with the character, creating a new kind of chemistry, giving the scene and the story an entirely different color.
More than just stunning.
With every glance, every movement, it was enough to make one completely captivated.
Only now did people finally understand why all of Hollywood had been buzzing with "Anson, Anson, Anson"—
Scorn. Disdain. Anger. Contempt. Complaints. Frustration.
Just moments ago, the entire apartment had been simmering with negative emotions, as if chilled by the wind. You could feel the impatience and struggle in every glance exchanged.
But now, all of that had melted away.
If someone asked why people still pour their hearts into indie films, with their low pay, heavy workloads, and little reward, where it might take three or five years just to get the film onto the big screen, only for it to disappear after two weeks—what's the point? Why do they keep doing it?
Passion.
Simply put, it's passion.
More specifically, it's for moments like this, when the chemistry explodes on screen and becomes a movie.
After a moment like that, all the hard work, frustration, and resentment seem to vanish. There's nothing left but joy and satisfaction, making it all worthwhile.
However!
Michel had cut the scene—out of nowhere.
In an instant, all eyes turned to Michel. The looks on their faces didn't bother to hide their shock and surprise, sharp as arrows pointed straight at him.
Michel had only just begun to speak when he realized he'd become a porcupine. He could almost feel the sharp stares sweeping over his skin, each pore tingling with the sensation of being pricked.
Michel: What the...?!?