Chapter 173: The Final Show**

The auditions began.

One by one, the actors went in, in the order they arrived. The duration varied—some took as little as 15 minutes, while others took as long as 25 minutes. The differences were noticeable, but no pattern or clues could be discerned.

After each actor finished their audition, their reactions varied.

It was just like taking a test.

The student who always ranks last in the class feels great after finishing the test, convinced they did exceptionally well and immediately starts thinking about holiday plans. Meanwhile, the top student finishes the test feeling terrible, constantly going over how they didn't study enough and fearing they've bombed it, then immediately starts comparing answers with classmates.

Just from their expressions—whether happy, angry, or sad—you couldn't judge what had happened inside.

Every time an actor came out, Anson and Heath exchanged a glance, without saying a word. They communicated entirely with their eyes, creating a relaxed feeling, as if they were enjoying some sunflower seeds, even in the tense, suffocating atmosphere. All their random thoughts disappeared.

The waiting time didn't feel as hard to bear.

Then, it was Heath's turn.

Heath let out a long breath and saluted Anson. "I'll be back soon," he said, then casually turned and walked in.

This left Joe Manganiello, who had just come out with a face full of excitement, completely baffled. He looked at Anson and blinked, unable to get any words out.

Anson shrugged lightly, spread his hands, and his face was full of innocence.

As expected but still surprising, Joe Manganiello had spent the longest time inside so far, nearly half an hour without any sign of movement. Anson and Heath had waited so long that they even started to feel hungry. But unfortunately, nothing could be heard from behind the door, just silence.

The shortest time, on the other hand, belonged to Scott Speedman. When he came out, his shoulders were noticeably slumped, looking slightly dejected. He glanced at Anson, his eyes full of hesitation as if he wanted to say something but held back.

But unexpectedly—

Creak.

Heath had only been inside for just over ten minutes when the door opened again, and his carefree, unruly face appeared.

What was going on?

Anson lowered his voice, unable to hide his surprise. "So quick?"

Heath raised his right index finger and waved it slightly, putting on a serious expression. "How can you say that to a man so casually? That's not good."

Seeing Heath still in the mood to joke, Anson relaxed as well. "As if I care. I couldn't care less."

Heath's smile fully blossomed, and he silently laughed.

He looked so at ease, as if he hadn't just been in an audition but had been casually chatting with some friends. Not a drop of sweat on his forehead, his steps light, and his shoulders relaxed. He stepped forward to shake Anson's hand and playfully bumped his shoulder.

Heath patted Anson on the shoulder. "Good luck."

Then, Heath walked away at a leisurely pace, leaving Anson standing there, a smile creeping up on his lips.

Without further hesitation, Anson picked up his backpack, slung it casually over his shoulder, pushed open the conference room door, and entered the mysterious room.

Actually, the room was quite ordinary—a square rehearsal room. One side of the room had a floor-to-ceiling glass window facing the street, directly opposite a full-length mirror wall. Facing the windows were four long tables with a few scattered figures seated behind them.

They all sat with their backs to the light, hiding their facial expressions in the shadows, making sure the auditioners couldn't see their eyes while they themselves could see everything about the auditioners.

This arrangement was full of hidden meaning, applying psychological pressure.

This was Anson's first time participating in such an audition—an open audition. 

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It's not that the previous auditions were entirely closed, but now, multiple interviewers and competitors were all gathered in one place, auditioning one after another at the same time. Both sides could directly see the different faces and form clear comparisons, creating a completely different competitive atmosphere.

Previously, four actors had already taken their turns, and now it was Anson's turn. Whether the anticipation had risen or the interviewers were too exhausted to focus, it was a challenge for Anson—an unexpected one.

—It wasn't just about being the finale, but being the true grand finale.

"Finale performance" is a term everyone knows, but few realize that after the finale, there is actually one last act, known as the "grand finale," which marks the end of the entire day's performance.

These terms all originate from Peking Opera.

In the past, opera houses would perform day shows, starting at noon and continuing until around six in the evening. The program was usually divided into three sections:

The first three acts were performed by new actors or students; the middle three acts were slightly more prominent; and the final three acts featured the most popular plays.

The last play in each of these three sections was called a "Zhouzi"—

First Zhouzi, Middle Zhouzi, and Grand Zhouzi.

So, the second-to-last play was called the "Finale."

But why do people often say the most spectacular and best performance is the finale and not the grand finale?

This also comes from Peking Opera tradition. The play with the best singing, usually performed by the lead actor of the troupe, was always placed as the second-to-last play in the third section.

The reason is tied to tradition.

When the last act, the grand finale, began, it was usually a martial arts performance that lasted about a quarter of an hour. Most of the seasoned opera-goers and distinguished guests would start to leave the theater as soon as the grand finale started.

In other words, when the grand finale began, the coachmen would start harnessing the horses, getting the carriages ready to pick up their masters from the theater.

Many in the audience would leave before the final curtain fell.

Therefore, the grand finale was also known as the "send-off play," while the truly spectacular performance was the second-to-last, known as the finale.

So, being the grand finale wasn't necessarily a good thing.

Now?

Heath Ledger was the finale, and Anson was the grand finale.

After watching the auditions of four actors, in addition to those who had already auditioned earlier, the interviewers must have seen numerous actors by now. Whether they were filled with anticipation or disappointment, each of them must have formed their own opinions and feelings. The next audition was bound to be different.

So, would Anson's grand finale also turn out to be the "send-off play"?

The pressure began to build up, bit by bit.

However, Anson didn't feel nervous.

To be precise, he was a bit nervous, especially after seeing Heath come out early, which disrupted his expectations and plans, making his heart race even faster. But as soon as his hand grasped the doorknob, all those emotions were left behind. He got into the zone, regaining his calm and composure.

There was even a touch of excitement.

After all, the auditions for "Friends" and "The Princess Diaries" hadn't matched his expectations. It wasn't until today that Anson experienced an audition like the one in "La La Land."

The entire atmosphere and environment were completely different, as was the audition content. Though there was a sense of uncertainty, it was precisely this uncertainty that signified both challenges and infinite possibilities. The thrill of a fresh challenge made his adrenaline spike.

Open the door, push the door—

Anson stepped inside.

Sam Raimi was observing Anson.

With sleepy eyes squinted, his face showed no expression, as if his mind was wandering elsewhere. Yet those dead-fish eyes were completely focused.

Staring, scrutinizing, observing...

And then.

A question mark popped into Sam's mind. Wait, why does this figure, this face, seem a little familiar?

But he was certain he didn't know him. "Anson Wood," he glanced at the actor's name on the résumé, but it didn't trigger any related memories in his mind.

So, what was this sense of familiarity?

Sam raised his eyes again, peering through the narrow slit to take another look.

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