"People are always like this, craving to understand the future, yet fearing it at the same time,"
Renly smiled lightly as he quipped.
"If they knew in advance that failure was inevitable, how many would still be willing to try? If they understood from the start that their efforts would be in vain, how many would forge ahead with no regrets? The answer is very few.
Most of the time, people are often bound by the so-called future—afraid of failure, repulsed by idleness, driven by utilitarianism—ultimately choosing to stand still or to completely change course. But Renly isn't 'most people.'
He won't choose to give up before trying; he won't retreat before making an effort. If he's afraid of failure, then at the very beginning, he would have made different choices. He could've followed his family's plans, choosing an easier and simpler path. Yet he still chose this road.
The allure of the future lies in its uncertainty—it can follow history or change it. The true results are only known after personal struggle.
The awards from the 83rd Oscars still followed the course of history and weren't altered by the appearance of Renly, this little butterfly. However, these outcomes meant little to Renly.
Looking at Rooney before him, Renly chuckled lightly and teased, "So you left because 'The Social Network' lost?" Renly's mood remained unaffected, not disappointed nor regretful.
Rooney's gaze fell on the corner of Renly's mouth, and involuntarily, her lips curved upwards as well. She responded with a question, "What do you think?"
"Sorry, forgive my rudeness. I forgot we're discussing the Oscars," Renly didn't provide a direct answer, instead, he engaged in self-deprecation with a relaxed demeanor. However, his calm tone, no matter how it was heard, seemed to mock the unchanging and decaying nature of the Oscars, just like Rooney's words earlier.
Rooney burst into laughter, causing Renly's eyebrow to arch slightly in puzzlement. While Renly's earlier words were humorous, they shouldn't have led to such hearty laughter from Rooney—it seemed like she was being overly flattering.
Rooney turned her head to avoid being too impolite with her laughter, but her shoulders continued to move without restraint. After regaining some control, her laughter subsided a bit. She turned back around, her eyes still harboring a bright smile. Her entire expression had softened, "I'm sorry, my focus was a bit scattered just now. Honestly, your head is very eye-catching now; it's trying to snatch all the attention."
Renly lifted his eyes, looking upwards. Though he couldn't see his own head, the chilly sensation wasn't compromised. It reminded him fully: The night wind was strong, be careful not to catch a cold.
A faint smile tugged at the corners of Renly's mouth too. He raised his right hand and lightly touched his forehead. The unfamiliar and sharp sensation of his hair, now gone, made his eyebrows lift slightly. It was clear he was still adjusting to this earth-shattering change.
This simple gesture, coupled with the expressions at Renly's eyebrows and corners of his mouth, caused Rooney's smile to widen once again.
Renly before her was so familiar yet so foreign. The cold blue moonlight bathed his shoulders, traces of an unreceded smile lingering on his cheeks. Yet, hidden behind, there was... a tinge of sorrow and loneliness. The essence of solitude settled between his brows, even the moonlight softened.
Rooney had a vague sense of understanding about what the bald head truly signified.
"So, you really don't care about the Oscar statuette?" Rooney had her own conjectures deep within her, but she still asked, her gaze fixed on the man before her. After a momentary pause, she revealed a playful smile, "Or is it that you know this outcome wouldn't change even if you attended? So, you deliberately chose not to go, at least from a publicity standpoint, you can stand undefeated."
Direct, sharp, incisive, and even slightly aggressive. No one could forget that just a few days ago, the reporters were condemning Renly for resorting to any means for publicity. Everything was a trap for hype, which ignited a storm of public opinion. But now, Rooney was throwing such questioning out in her own way, without concealment.
Renly wasn't angered; he simply shrugged with a smile, without any intention to explain or respond.
Such a nonchalant posture seemed to disdain it entirely, leaving Rooney somewhat helpless.
However, Rooney wasn't one to give up easily. She didn't press further, but instead, she met Renly's gaze seriously. Her determined gaze remained fixed on him, as if saying, "I won't easily give up without getting an answer."
Renly chuckled softly, "What if I told you that I actually really wanted to attend the Oscars, would you believe me?"
The corners of Rooney's eyebrows lifted slightly, clearly not believing.
But Renly shrugged his shoulders again, smiling as he said, "I'm serious." This answer completely stunned Rooney. She could tell that Renly wasn't joking.
Without pausing, Renly continued, "It's just that there's something more important."
A simple sentence, devoid of any extra embellishments, straightforward and clear. Yet, it was like a huge bell, ringing in Rooney's ears, deafening her, causing waves of emotion and a cascade of thoughts.
Tonight at the Kodak Theatre, Rooney had never found a sense of belonging. She constantly felt out of place, to the point where she eventually fled.
She thought it was because she resisted being labeled as a commercial entity. She thought it was because the Oscars were no longer a simple film event. She thought it was because the distribution of the golden statues was no longer a contest of skill but a game of PR... But in reality, it wasn't exactly that, or more accurately, it was because of that, but not solely because of that.
The important aspect was never the Oscars themselves, but the manner in which one appeared at the Oscars.
If it was top-tier veterans like Meryl Streep or Daniel Day-Lewis, delivering splendid performances, walking the red carpet at the Oscars, welcoming their own praises, earning their own affirmation, basking in their own spotlight, then the Oscars would be the grandest, most authoritative, and most solemn stage for display worldwide.
If it was idols and pretty faces like Kim Kardashian or Robert Pattinson, perhaps even without any substantial performances, appearing at the Oscar ceremony solely for exposure, like a beautifully wrapped gift box presented under the spotlight, being offered up for sale, then even if it wasn't the Oscars, any other award ceremony would be equally tasteless.
What Rooney resisted wasn't the Oscars, but herself.
Because in the film "The Social Network", her performance was far from outstanding. Forget about a nomination; she couldn't even be called a supporting role. So, her attendance tonight had turned into a full-fledged reality show, her exposed gaze making her appear like a cheap commodity. But if the next time she delivered a top-tier performance and received a nomination, she would appear at the Kodak Theatre with a proud demeanor, receiving her own applause.
Just like Renly.
Performance was everything and all was related to performance.
Renly's performance in "Buried" was already outstanding enough. He could have confidently walked onto the Oscar stage, bathed in the baptism of the spotlight. But Renly was absent, solely because the performance in "50/50" was more important. Originating from performance, concluding in performance, changing through performance, returning to performance. Everything was inextricably linked with performance.
The Oscars were important. Performance was more important.
Suddenly, Rooney understood the reason for Renly's absence and her own reason for leaving. The entire world seemed to brighten up in an instant. The fierce winds of late-night Seattle no longer seemed harsh; instead, they became beautifully stirring.
Once again, her gaze fell upon the bald head of Renly. Lost in thought, her eyes shimmering with brilliance, that sense of joy resembled the gently fluttering wings of a butterfly, ready to take flight.
"I believe you've made the right choice." A smile appeared on Rooney's face, not showy but resolute. All her anxiety and superficiality gradually settled, and she finally felt the solid ground beneath her feet again.
"Heh." A deep chuckle surged within Renly's chest, like a melody resonating between a cello and a bass drum. "The reporters might not necessarily agree with your perspective."
"The key is, do you care?" Rooney didn't hesitate at all, gazing at Renly with an ambiguous smile as she spoke.
Though a question, her tone was decidedly certain. Her determined gaze met Renly's face, carrying a hint of warm temperature. Then, she saw the smile at the corner of Renly's lips bloom like the rising dawn, unfolding bit by bit, radiantly beautiful.
Even without words, Rooney knew her answer was correct. The previous question was, and this one was too.
Lifting her head, the ink-black night sky over Seattle was sprinkled with countless stars, as if a basket of starlight had been overturned, filling the entire sky. It reminded Rooney of that night with Ted Stilley, the night about movies. She liked nights like this.
On the way to the Sunset Tower Hotel, she had chosen to leave, purchasing a departing flight ticket. This was the wisest decision she had made in the past few months.
Withdrawing her gaze, Rooney earnestly inspected Renly's bald head. Her calm mind surged with thoughts, countless creative ideas erupting like a geyser. After a silence that lasted through the afternoon and evening, it was finally rekindled, regaining its vitality. "Tell me about your performance tonight. I think it's much more exciting than the boring awards ceremony."
Rooney was a bit excited, struggling to maintain the calm of her voice, but her bright eyes revealed her inner excitement. It wasn't just about the bald head; there was also the sense of loneliness and bitterness between Renly's brows. She didn't know the details or the cause and effect, but she knew that behind his composed expression, there must be an incredibly captivating story.
Just as Rooney laid eyes upon the bald figure of Renly, the impact and resonance were unparalleled. However, as time flowed by, she gradually acclimated – at least on the surface of sight.
Yet now, deeper reflections surged forth. How did this bald appearance come to be, and what hidden tale of performance lay veiled behind it? Over this period, Renly had sacrificed much for "50/50", even jeopardizing his own health, a widely-known fact. So, what did this performance tonight truly signify?
Suddenly, curiosity tugged at Rooney. What would it feel like to act opposite Renly? She had seen "Buried" and heard of "Like Crazy". Tonight, she witnessed firsthand the transformation of Renly's demeanor, recalling the rumors that had once dubbed him the male lead of "The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo". If the two of them were to both secure their roles...
Oscar's trivial vexations gradually ebbed, replaced by "50/50", Renly's performance, the "The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo", and more. A surge of excitement, fleeting thoughts, all of it passed in a blink. Rooney pursed her lips and gestured in a direction. "If you're uncertain where to start, I believe this might be a good choice."
Renly followed Rooney's gaze and saw the half-torn cigarette hanging from his lips. The tobacco flakes drifted down, unlit, the cigarette hanging languidly from his mouth. A chuckle escaped Renly as he tugged at the corner of his mouth.
Yet, the smile hadn't fully blossomed before it receded, his hand reaching up to remove the cigarette. "This is just..." Renly began to speak, but his words faltered. His gaze on the cigarette's end grew blurry, lost in his thoughts.
Recalling the scene just played out, the insights gleaned from his performance, the Adam he had portrayed—icy sensations rushed over him, an unfamiliar chill. Even he couldn't control it, raising his head to touch the furry, bald crown. Bitterness, sourness, and spiciness tingled on his tongue, like ripples upon a tranquil pond, gently spreading.
Conversation lapsed into silence, yet Rooney remained patient, not hastening to interject, waiting for the continuation.
"Do you know about seeds?" Renly turned to Rooney, uttering words that seemed unrelated.
Seeds? What did that have to do with cigarettes? Or acting, perhaps? Maybe even his current project? Renly's rhythm of speech jumped around, leaving Rooney bewildered. She couldn't fathom the meaning behind his words. Yet, Renly appeared oblivious to this, continuing in his own world.
"After a seed is sown, it swells gradually, then sprouts, breaking through the earth. That potent force emerges from within, brimming with vitality, absorbing nutrients from the soil, surmounting all obstacles, flourishing. Everyone anticipates the blooming and fruition."
Renly's voice maintained a measured pace, akin to murmurs from time immemorial, less a discussion of acting, more an exploration like a documentary narrator. Yet, he remained unaware of his own peculiarity. Today's scene, the method and experiential approaches to performance, all of it was within Renly's ongoing exploration and research, even he was confounded by it all.
As he spoke, Renly paused, once again lost in his thoughts, as if speaking to himself. "But for the soil, it's a cruel agony. It decays, ages bit by bit. The slow process is a torment. What's even more terrifying is whether the seeds nurtured in this soil will become poison or sustenance – nobody knows."
Rooney couldn't make sense of what Renly was saying. She had no inkling about "50/50", the kind of movie it was, what scene Renly had filmed today, or the circumstances he had gone through. Suddenly, watching Renly, it seemed as though he had turned into Nietzsche, expounding upon profound philosophical theories. She was utterly perplexed.
Unexpectedly, though, Rooney empathized deeply.
Born into a prestigious family, Rooney's maternal grandfather owned the New York Giants, and her paternal grandfather was the founder of the Pittsburgh Steelers. She was practically born with a silver spoon. Furthermore, owing to the family's involvement in business and sports, the family held an open attitude toward their children entering the entertainment industry. Her sister Kate entered Hollywood at the age of sixteen, while Rooney herself became an actress at twenty.
Regardless of whether Kate and Rooney were willing to acknowledge or accept it, their surname "Mara" and the hidden business empire behind it predetermined that they would receive special treatment. However, it wasn't the positive kind of treatment. Peculiar glances followed them everywhere. People often assumed: they were just playing around, like the Olsen twins or the Kardashian sisters.
Rooney aspired to be an exceptional actress, perhaps even a great one. This had always been her goal. She stubbornly declined help from her family, honing her acting skills in the realm of independent cinema, attempting to carve out a niche. Yet, since her debut in a film in 2005, her efforts had never been acknowledged.
She often landed roles in minor horror films or played supporting characters in lowbrow comedies. After finally gaining recognition from David Fincher and playing an important role in "The Social Network", her shine was stolen by the two male leads, and she couldn't even secure a familiar face.
This left her incredibly disheartened, doubting herself. Was she devoid of acting talent? Was she just an ordinary dreamer? Did the roles she'd previously played result from connections backing her? Doubts consumed her.
To the point that tonight, at the Oscars, her negative emotions erupted. Sitting in the Kodak Theatre, she felt entirely out of place, lacking any sense of belonging.
Yet, in this moment, watching Renly before her, Rooney had a sudden realization.
The journey of chasing dreams was never simple. It was strewn with thorns, fraught with challenges. It wasn't a clichéd inspirational tale where rainbows followed storms. In real life, often even after enduring storms, rainbows remained elusive. Just like nurturing seeds, awaiting their blooming and fruition. Exhausting all nutrients from the soil, yet unable to discern whether the final fruit would be sustenance or poison.
Persisting might not guarantee victory; surrendering, however, certainly led to failure. So, continuing to persist, was it wise or foolish?
Rooney's gaze once again settled on Renly's bald head, her lips curling upwards. This time, though, what she felt wasn't humor, but admiration and reverence. "How did I not know that you also have French ancestry?"
French people have a penchant for discussing philosophy – it's ingrained in their blood. Renly's profound remarks just now reminded Rooney of the French, and she couldn't help but make a jest.
"Shakespeare must be heartbroken," Renly raised an eyebrow slightly and casually remarked, suggesting that the previous discussion wasn't philosophical but poetic.
Rooney paused for a moment and couldn't help but smile. A subtle gleam of amusement sparkled in her colorful, bright eyes. She didn't continue the jest, instead returning to the previous topic. "You know what? Humanity is a magnificent species, one might even say, miraculous."
"Because, regardless of whether the seeds yield good or bad outcomes, the soil retains memories, transforming positive and negative influences into nutrients, and then reshaping itself." Rooney suddenly realized that Renly's words from earlier weren't so esoteric. The metaphorical comparisons had come to life vividly.
"Every moment we experience – positive, negative, joyful, painful, beautiful, ugly – eventually becomes a part of us, creating a uniquely individual self."
After uttering these words, Rooney fell silent, thoughts surging in her mind. It wasn't just a response to Renly, but also her own insight. Speaking those words aloud, she found herself savoring them.
Renly felt a tingling sensation course through his blood, leaving him somewhat dazed.
His earlier words had been about cancer and countless ailments. Not just about the character Adam in the movie, or the character Will in life, but also about the children at Mount Sinai Hospital. That agony was like drowning, gradually filling the lungs, swelling, scalding, tearing, consuming all vitality, birthing the root of death. On the day when the seed broke through the soil, life also reached its end.
Life could nurture hope, yet it could also brew despair.
But Rooney's words were about acting, dreams, persistence, and life itself.
People were always like this, anticipating success, focusing all their attention on the outcome, overlooking the path to success – a narrow alley littered with fragments of failure. Often, more than the outcome, the process was the most significant. The fleeting joy of success couldn't compare to the marvelous and moving scenery along the journey.
Reborn as a human, Renly deeply understood this.
Hence, he was willing to endure suffering lying in a coffin to explore acting; he was willing to take a $20,000 fee to delve into acting skills for "Like Crazy"; he was willing to forsake attending the Oscars to study a character. Similarly, he wouldn't neglect his life for the sake of acting. He wouldn't forget the people around him for the sake of his dream. He wouldn't overlook the brilliance of the journey for the beauty of the destination.
Because he knew that every moment, every instant on the path of life, was precious and unique. Acting was like this, as were rock climbing and surfing.
Rooney lifted her head, meeting Renly's gaze. Words weren't necessary – the stars above and the boundless tranquility painted similar arcs on their lips.
The happiest moment in Yu Boya's life was encountering Zhong Ziqi.
Rooney - Luuni
"The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo" - "Dragon Tattooed Dame"
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