Chapter 306: The Rhythm of a Successful Blockbuster

This world is anything but normal.

By now, many viewers have started piecing things together. This is where the distinction between commercial and art films becomes evident.

A commercial film doesn't mislead its audience from start to finish. Instead, it drops clues bit by bit, giving viewers the satisfaction of feeling like they've discovered something themselves, unraveling the mystery piece by piece.

The gravity-defying fights and stunts by Trinity and the agents, Trinity's mysterious disappearance at the phone booth, the agents' bizarre methods, and Morpheus' cryptic words all lead to one conclusion:

The modern, peaceful world on-screen… might not be real.

The interrogation continues. Agent Smith produces a bizarre mechanical insect, placing it ominously on the table.

The insect scuttles quickly, burrowing into Neo's stomach—leaving no wound behind.

Gasps ripple through the audience.

The screen abruptly transitions, and Neo wakes up in bed, gasping for air, drenched in sweat. Was it all just a dream?

But was it really?

The unsettling atmosphere reaches its peak as Neo meets Trinity again. She uses a device to extract the mechanical insect from his body.

"You've been tampered with," Trinity says.

"It's real? What the hell is that thing?" Neo exclaims.

"An electronic bug, or perhaps… a piece of code."

Code?

This clue adds another layer of intrigue, prompting the audience to ponder its implications.

Meanwhile, sitting in the front row, Steven Spielberg whispers, "Almost there."

George Lucas, engrossed in the film, glances over. "Almost what?"

Spielberg explains softly, "From the start, the film keeps dropping mysteries and clues, sparking the audience's curiosity while making them feel like they're figuring things out themselves. Curiosity and exploration are fundamental human instincts.

"But this is a commercial film. The pacing needs to be precise. Overloading viewers with mysteries and questions would tire them out. Martin won't make that mistake."

Spielberg continues, "In every one of Martin's scripts, his mastery of pacing is evident. At this point, there should be an impactful sequence to reignite the audience's excitement—like an intense fight scene, a revelation, or even just a glimpse of the bigger truth."

Just as he finishes, Neo swallows the pill.

The next moment is spine-chilling.

Neo wakes up inside a pod-like structure, surrounded by tubes embedded in his body.

On-screen, Neo appears bald, frail, and sluggish—like someone bedridden for years, barely regaining control of their limbs.

"Oh my God, what's happening?" someone in the theater exclaims.

The camera zooms out, unveiling an eerie world through Neo's perspective.

Massive mechanical structures resembling living organisms fill the screen. Each is covered with countless pods identical to Neo's, arranged like rows of crops.

The camera pans upward, revealing a desolate, lightless sky filled with swirling clouds and dust. The bleak, apocalyptic imagery evokes an overwhelming sense of dread.

As flashes of lightning illuminate the horizon, the audience sees the sheer scale of the structures—an endless expanse stretching into infinity.

This three-and-a-half-minute sequence, created with top-tier visual effects by Industrial Light & Magic, is a visual masterpiece.

Spielberg nods approvingly. "That was brilliant."

George Lucas agrees, clearly impressed by his team's work.

Kevin Thomas, a film critic from The Los Angeles Times, scribbles in his notebook: This film doesn't rely on acting prowess, yet it's far from a poor effort. Martin's constructed world is haunting and thought-provoking—a tale of "brains in vats" come to life.

Thomas, younger than many of his peers, is more receptive to the film's atmospheric storytelling and spectacular action sequences.

Neo is pulled into a hovercraft and introduced to the Resistance.

As the ship journeys on, the audience glimpses more of this dystopian world.

"Welcome to the real world."

When Neo finally meets Morpheus, the imposing figure delivers this line, immersing viewers into the harsh reality of their universe.

The tranquil, modern world they had seen earlier?

It was fake.

The grim, apocalyptic wasteland where humans are farmed like livestock?

That's the truth.

Morpheus then explains humanity's plight through a series of revelations:

AI robots were developed in the 21st century.The robots rebelled, and humans, in an attempt to defeat them, blocked out the sun—their primary energy source.However, the robots adapted, finding a new power source: the bioelectric energy in human bodies.Humans lost the war. Robots began cultivating humans, keeping their minds trapped in a simulated world—the Matrix—to prolong their lives and maximize their energy output.

Through Morpheus' narration, the film paints a vivid picture of this horrifying reality. With top-notch effects, it showcases humans being harvested from birth, confined to pods, and used as living batteries for AI machines.

For five minutes, the film captivates audiences with its unsettling depiction of humanity's fall—a nightmarish scenario made hauntingly real.

"This is horrifying!" one viewer murmurs.

As the film unveils this truth, it alleviates the burden of overthinking from the audience, drawing them into its world.

But as a successful commercial film, it knows when to ease the tension.

The next sequence focuses on Morpheus training Neo, delivering thrilling action and lighter moments to balance the dark narrative.

Yet just as the audience relaxes, critics begin to frown again.