บท 550: Two madmen
Renly passionately expounded his understanding of the character, laying out all the preparation he had done, and he maintained unwavering eye contact with Tony, engaging in sincere and earnest communication.
Tony lifted his head and saw the focused enthusiasm in those deep brown eyes. The calm demeanor from before had vanished, replaced by an unimaginable charisma. Tony couldn't help but compare the current Renly with the earlier portrayal of Henry. The stillness, like a stagnant pond, devoid of any radiance, gradually transformed Henry's image in his mind.
"So, you mean you want to present this kind of effect? An effect that seems as lifeless as still water?" Tony finally spoke, fully comprehending Renly's intention.
"More precisely, I wish to convey a sense of calm. Not the darkness and despair of still water, just a detached indifference to opening one's heart. It looks entirely normal on the surface, but inside, there's complete silence," Renly thought carefully, correcting Tony's statement before further explaining.
"Henry is the core of the entire film. In my view, his emotions aren't a straight line but a constantly fluctuating curve. He thinks he's a straight line, but as he encounters different people and events, more and more of his flaws are exposed, bit by bit. Finally, he's laid bare in front of the audience, step by step, heading towards the conclusion of the film. It's a process."
In the previous adaptation, "Detachment", starring Adrien Brody, the development of emotions was essentially a straight line. His bursts and troughs had no clear direction, only rooted in the internal despair and sadness, more vividly portrayed. Even after breaking free from those bursts, his sorrow continued to overflow, becoming a part of his everyday life, keeping Henry's character constantly in a state of sadness and gloom.
This could be seen as a constraint on his character, where the external melancholy and fragility were always present. It could also be viewed as his acting pattern, from "The Pianist" to "Detachment", where the actor's temperament remained consistent, limiting the scope of his performance. Even in comedy films like "The Darjeeling Limited", the acting pattern couldn't be broken.
Of course, this had its advantages. Adrien Brody endowed the film with a relatively stable state: a state of despair and melancholy. This emotion was boundless and effectively conveyed the creator's intentions, resonating deeply with empathetic audiences.
However, Renly didn't want that. He hoped that through his understanding of the character, he could present different depths, thicknesses, and breadths in his performance. It wasn't just about making Henry more rounded or ensuring a smoother progression of the ending; it was about enriching the film's emotions and deepening its core.
Because Renly knew that Tony's initial intention for making this film wasn't merely to tell the story of one character. His goal was education, society, the entire blueprint. Renly agreed with this ambition, and he wanted to be a part of it. More importantly, he hoped his performance could achieve a further breakthrough.
This time, in his showcase of acting skills, Renly hoped to take a bold step forward.
Tony's emotions began to intensify, and he could understand Renly's meaning. However, it all seemed too abstract, and language couldn't express it clearly and directly. After all, he wasn't an actor, lacking the talent for performance. Details of acting and the aura of performance were only vaguely familiar to him. His mind couldn't sketch out the corresponding specific images, let alone grasp the overall context and endpoint of the performance.
This feeling was somewhat like a math problem. The numbers and text in front of him were clear and precise, and he knew there was a formula that could connect all the numbers. He also knew there was a law pointing to the correct answer. The problem was, he didn't know the formula and the law, so all those numbers turned into meaningless gibberish.
It was truly a mess! Tony fiercely rubbed his head, making his already tangled hair even messier. But his mind remained like a tangle of seaweed, unable to form a clear train of thought.
Suddenly, Tony yanked at his hair, a violent action that pulled the tangled mess of hair outwards, causing a sharp pain on his scalp. Even Renly, standing nearby and watching, couldn't help but wince in pain. Tony, on the other hand, paid no attention to the discomfort and urgently exclaimed, "Playback, let's watch the playback!"
He had forgotten the most crucial thing. He was the director and couldn't communicate with Renly as an actor. He needed to stand in the director's position and review the scene they had just shot to better understand Renly's thoughts. That was the correct approach. "Let's watch the playback first, and then we'll talk." Tony didn't wait for Renly's response and hurriedly headed towards the location of the monitor.
Renly and Tony stood on the school playground, surrounded by silence. There was no one nearby, and the nearest crew members were spaced about fifteen meters apart, unable to hear their conversation clearly. They could only judge based on their expressions, trying to guess. Suddenly, without warning, Tony ran back, catching the crew members who had been watching in place off guard.
The crew members couldn't understand what had just happened and anxiously moved away, causing chaos on set. Onlookers were left full of question marks, not understanding what had transpired. Just a moment ago, Tony and Renly were locked in a standoff, and now Tony had fled abruptly? What was going on?
Tony was unaware of the confusion among the others, and even if he had known, he wouldn't have cared. He rushed to the monitor, biting the dead skin on his lip, and gestured with his chin, urgently saying, "Playback, playback." His request didn't receive an immediate response, and it was evident that those around him were all bewildered. Without leaving any room for explanation, Tony raised his voice and repeated, "Playback!"
This time, Tony's request was finally heeded, and the playback began.
As Tony watched the playback, Roy quickly approached and whispered, "Are you okay?"
Renly casually waved his hand, asking, "Where's the script?"
Roy was momentarily baffled and didn't react at first. Then, Nathan promptly handed over the script. Roy watched as Renly stood in place and began flipping through the script, leaving him with a big question mark: Was he still looking at the script? Renly had already gone through the script thoroughly.
Literal meaning, it was truly worn out. Nathan had replaced the front and back covers, but the pages inside had rough edges, some were torn, and there were numerous notes left haphazardly in blank spaces. Roy thought Renly had already memorized the entire script, and there wasn't a single line of dialogue in the first scene or the second scene, so why continue to read the script?
Renly knew today's shoot inside out, including all the plot developments and dialogue setups. Not all scripts were worth this kind of repeated perusal. For example, a script like "Fast 5" prioritized communication with the stunt and martial arts directors over the script. But for a script like "Detachment", every line of dialogue and every scene had a theatrical quality worth careful study.
However, for Renly, this was just a habitual action. When he read the script on set, it was actually a form of contemplation, not rote memorization of lines. He had been reconsidering Tony's opinions from earlier.
Whether in the previous life's finished product of "Detachment" or in the recent simple exchange, it was evident that Tony was a director heavily reliant on the camera. However, his camera style was different from directors like Paul Thomas Anderson or Darren Aronofsky, who captured the nuances of performances through changes in lighting and angles. Tony's camera had a raw, coarse feeling, akin to documentary style, or one could say it was close to the perspective of a theater audience. It recorded performances in their raw state and presented emotions bare before the audience.
This also meant that during the collaboration with Tony, there needed to be more externalization in the performance. This externalization didn't refer to emotional outbursts but emotional pauses. At every key point in the performance, he needed to leave a fraction of a second's pause.
These pauses, when placed on the timeline, were actually imperceptible, vanishing before you could even blink. But in the process of performing, changes in gaze direction, momentary hesitations in eye contact, and slight adjustments in facial expressions magnified these fractions of a second, providing more room to fill with emotions and making the performance richer.
In essence, this was a study and mastery of the depth and control of emotions. Renly needed to watch the playback to gain a better understanding of Tony's camera work so he could calibrate his own performance scale. Then, he strode purposefully toward the monitor.
Roy watched Renly in a daze, feeling that his thought process couldn't keep up. First Tony, and now Renly—both of these individuals had completely unpredictable behavior, leaving him utterly flabbergasted. One moment, they were passionately arguing, and the next, they stood shoulder to shoulder, watching the playback together and occasionally exchanging quiet opinions.
What in the world was going on? One madman and another madman, so was this a story of two madmen meeting?
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