Acting progress

With a single glance, merely a single glance, a momentary sense of confusion and loss unfolded in its entirety within that gaze. It was as though the grasp of a giant's hand, seizing the heart of every spectator, clenching it tightly, then rubbing and kneading it with such bitterness that breath itself seemed nearly stifled. Yet, no voice of tears emerged, only a boundless bewilderment, akin to the vast expanse of the Arctic, endless and white.

But this was but a fleeting instant. Swiftly thereafter, everything returned to its former state—jesting, anger, mockery, all in uproarious abundance.

This inevitably called to mind that scene from the third day of filming when Renly expressed great dissatisfaction with his own performance. So severe was his discontent that it ignited astonishment among all present. Yet, after reenacting the scene, Renly managed to captivate the entire audience. Today's performance was no different.

Those suppressed, nuanced, surging, trifling, and genuine emotions remained firmly locked within those eyes. They were transient, yet effortlessly succeeded in captivating each viewer, aching and helpless feelings akin to a dragonfly poised upon a blade of grass—quivering and unsteady as it fluttered its wings, creating an ethereal aureole of golden light.

Today, their triumph was even greater.

A tone of playful banter prevailed throughout. The two of them engaged in a ceaseless exchange of impromptu retorts, each punchline following another in quick succession. Though centered around a matter inherently somber and grave, their interactions provoked involuntary mirth. Yet, amid this atmosphere, the pause of a single gaze, an instant of eternity, revealed the genuine sentiments concealed behind the laughter. Like a keen-edged blade, it sliced through the veneer of pretense, exposing the true countenance in a single breath.

What did it mean to empathize deeply? To stand in another's shoes? To truly comprehend another's perspective? Every individual encircling the monitor felt it genuinely.

In the wake of that gaze, the ensuing string of jokes and jests drew even greater joy from the audience. Nevertheless, a profound sorrow seeped through the laughter, surging so intensely that it became impossible to stop. The air grew thick, constricting the throat, leading to fits of coughing that seemed capable of expelling one's very core.

As the playback concluded, a renewed hush settled upon the entire set. All gazed upon the monitor screen, involuntarily averting their eyes from one another, their focus transfixed upon a single point, gradually expanding.

This was a comedy, an absolute comedy. Renly's performance flowed effortlessly, as smooth as water, while Seth's portrayal remained authentically true to his character, an embodiment of liveliness. The charm of their dialogue and the power of their subtle expressions were wielded with masterful skill. Their timing was impeccable—giving, withholding, lifting, amusing—one moment genuine, the next performed. The interplay of these minute sparks suffused the entire scene with an irresistibly jovial ambiance.

It was beyond imagination. Renly, in his first comedic role, exuded a distinct comedic quality. Unlike Seth's clownishness, Renly evoked the aura of a sardonic jester. His facial nuances, reminiscent of the black-and-white films of the golden age, imbued each glance and smile with a richness of theatricality.

Yet, this was more than a mere comedy.

Renly's performance infused the entire screen with a profound subtlety that bore the weight of a feather. Every negative emotion borne by one suffering from a terminal illness was laid bare in all its intensity. It was a terrifying authenticity that erased the boundary between film and reality, rendering the ethereal as undeniable reality. Simultaneously, it was perfectly balanced, lightly touching upon emotions, retracting in an instant. It neither shattered the overarching tone of the film nor diminished its depth.

Only now, on this day, did they truly grasp the essence of what it meant to perform.

Even though they had already been shocked, even though they had already been amazed, even though they had already been bewildered, Renly always managed to bring surprises once again. Reflecting on the past few days, amidst the uproar and clamor stirred by the media, observing Renly's unwavering focus and dedication, the impact of such contrast was unparalleled.

The power of language was so pale, so weightless, so simple, it barely encapsulated even a fraction of the weight of the soul.

Their gaze returned to Renly's bald head, still adjusting, yet the more they adjusted, the more discomfited they became. This was proof of Renly's professionalism, proof of his obsession, effortlessly causing those envious and hateful gazes to falter.

Renly could sense gazes converging from all directions, bearing heavily upon his shoulders, making it hard to breathe. He needed a moment to gather his thoughts. Reflect on the methods of comedic performance, reflect on Adam's lost demeanor, reflect on his own urge to vomit...

And so, Renly tapped Jonathan's shoulder, saying nothing, merely nodding in acknowledgment, then turned and walked away.

This time, the crew members hesitated not at all. One by one, they cleared a path, allowing Renly to pass easily. They watched his departing figure, overwhelmed by complex emotions, rendered speechless.

Nathan followed with concern. Renly's recent physical condition was truly poor. If he didn't receive daily nutrient injections, it would likely be even worse. Yet, stubbornly, Renly remained indifferent. Nathan might worry, but he could be of no help.

Nathan quickly caught up, realizing that Renly's steps weren't leading toward the restroom. He breathed a small sigh of relief—thankfully, it wasn't about vomiting.

Tonight, Renly had only taken a few bites of spaghetti and a couple of broccoli florets. In the end, he drank half a bottle of orange juice. To an outsider, it might appear as though he was preparing for an Oscar ceremony tonight. If he were to throw up all these things... the thought was too disturbing to entertain.

As he contemplated, Nathan saw Renly leaving the apartment, walking onto the street. He hadn't gone far, just sat on a bench nearby. Nathan felt a bit reassured. Rather than intrude upon Renly's tranquility, he returned to the apartment entrance and sat on the steps, quietly waiting. Occasionally, he'd look up to check on Renly's condition, never once leaving.

Renly patted his pocket, no cigarette pack in sight. He kept them with Nathan due to the filming. However, he did have one tucked into his pants pocket for moments like these.

Retrieving the cigarette, he found it already broken, looking as though it had been scavenged from a trash heap. Renly couldn't help but offer a bitter smile and shake his head gently.

Seattle nights always carried a chill, a post-rain dampness that lingered. The air above felt cool and brisk. It made him suddenly feel as though he were bare, as though he had forgotten to dress. The sensation of being utterly exposed was so palpable that he couldn't help but glance downward to confirm his clothes were intact.

A light breeze passed by, causing Renly to instinctively huddle his neck, only to realize he had come out wearing a short-sleeved shirt with a coat thrown over. Late February nights in Seattle were bone-chillingly cold, yet now, he felt as though he had been dropped into an ice cavern.

Was it a mere illusion, or did it have some scientific basis? Did a bald head really make one feel colder?

Renly touched his head with discomfort. The sensation of those bristles was truly distinct, and his head had suddenly become lighter. Yet, it wasn't a feeling of happiness, but rather an unsettling lack of security. It was really quite peculiar.

"If I truly had cancer, this wouldn't be a problem," Renly quipped. But upon further thought, he realized that if he were truly afflicted with cancer, his body would certainly be even weaker. After shaving his head, he'd almost certainly catch a cold. However, right now, he was just a bit chilly, not shivering intensely. Did this indicate that his health was actually quite good?

Thinking this, Renly burst into a happy laugh.

He bent his head and tore off the broken half of the cigarette, then placed the remaining half between his lips, leaning back against the chair's backrest. He allowed his mind to slowly settle. He contemplated the details of his recent performance.

Comedic acting was truly an intriguing endeavor. It wasn't solely about Method or technique. Rather, it was like the collision of talent and script, guided by the impetus of inherent abilities. Many subtle expressions often emerged unintentionally. Attempting to direct them with method acting would result in stiffness, undermining the casual essence of comedy.

However, the most significant takeaway from this scene was a profound experience within the realm of Method acting. The boundaries between Adam and Chu Jiashu were growing increasingly blurred, to the point where even the lines between them and Renly himself were vanishing. Each word and action flowed naturally, seamlessly. When those lines transformed into his own, they flowed forth instinctively.

The rapid-fire wit wasn't something Renly controlled—it was Adam speaking. The comic references, the inside jokes with Kyle, all flowed effortlessly.

He enjoyed this sensation of acting.

True Method acting wasn't solely about experiencing a character; it was about experiencing a character from one's own perspective. In essence, it was the embodiment of a thousand faces—a thousand Hamlets in a thousand minds. With the same character, different actors employing Method acting would yield distinct emotions. Adam held a special place for Renly because of the deep-seated memory of Chu Jiashu, evoking a resonant chord.

Every person's experiences were inherently limited; they couldn't fully comprehend the stories each character lived. Take, for instance, the souls lost during WWII. Those who hadn't truly lived through concentration camps or the Holocaust could never truly empathize.

While performing in "Buried", Renly could create a sense of claustrophobic fear, awakening a resonance within himself. But what if he had to portray "Schindler's List"? Would he spend months living in a concentration camp? Even if he did, the effect wouldn't match that of WWII.

The proper approach was to feel the influence of a character's class, culture, environment, society, history, and more, and then infuse one's own emotions into that framework. Gradually, the self would lose control, merging with the character.

If Renly were to perform "Buried" now, he'd immerse himself in the life of Paul Conroy, from growing up to getting married, to eventually leaving home. He'd awaken the deep-seated fear and horror within himself, even without the experience of being confined in a coffin. He'd evoke the negative emotions of being engulfed by darkness and facing death, igniting the power of his performance.

Perhaps it wouldn't be as terrifying as the previous version, but the depth and subtlety would certainly surpass it.