Curly fatty

More than ten in the morning, the sunlight poured down sparsely. After a light rain last night, the world had opened up today. The crisp autumn air drove people onto the streets, relishing a rare time of the year. In Telluride, this tiny town, the bustling crowd and bustling scene rivaled even that of New York City.

Just after another screening of "Buried" had ended, it was a small screening room with a hundred and seventy seats, all occupied. Not a single seat was left empty, even though it was only an 8 AM showing. This low-budget work with an investment of only $3M had undoubtedly become a darling of Telluride. The screening had just concluded, and the line to purchase tickets for the 11:30 AM showing of "Buried" extended all the way out of the cinema hall, with a continuous flow of discussions resonating. Even compared to Toronto's long lines, it held its own.

Renly hadn't anticipated that he would be directly accosted by viewers, who were spouting saliva while arguing in front of him, which left him somewhat amused and exasperated.

"I think I'll leave you a bit of space," Renly said earnestly. This statement momentarily stupefied the two in front of him, as if they hadn't anticipated this response. But it only lasted a second; the two promptly resumed debating with even more fervor, their flushed faces appearing as though they would come to blows any second.

This caused Renly to widen his eyes, then he looked at the curly-haired chubby guy standing behind them and used his eyes to signal, "Aren't you planning to stop your friends?"

The curly-haired chubby guy spread his hands helplessly, his expression innocent. "I tried," he clearly was friends with the two arguing individuals. During their dispute, he had been attempting to interject, but his efforts hadn't been successful. Now, faced with this scene, he pointed at Renly instead, seemingly implying, "Shouldn't you be the one mediating?" His demeanor of a shopkeeper throwing up his hands seemed unyielding, without any compromise.

Seeing these two seemingly communicating through gestures, Rooney couldn't help but smile. Yet she had no intention of getting involved; instead, she stood with her hands behind her back, wearing an expression of someone appreciating a good show.

Renly noticed Rooney's gaze, a playful expression fleeting between his brows. He chuckled silently, then looked at the two fervent individuals before him and waved his hand in front of them. "Stop, cease!" In unison, both turned to look, as did the curly-haired chubby guy and Rooney.

"I don't believe the film's emphasis lies in its political metaphors!" Renly offered his answer. This time, one person was elated, the other disheartened. Both were eager to express their opinions, but Renly didn't give them the chance. "Paul is an ordinary person, he can't see those political nuances. His only thought is to escape, to survive. The remarks he makes are all his feelings in extreme circumstances. He believes he's been abandoned, left alone in the center of the desert to die. So, those political metaphors are Paul's interpretation, his alone. You can agree or disagree."

"But!" Both tried to interject with their viewpoints.

Renly raised his hand to stop them and continued, "I think the film's true focus is on telling Paul's story. It's also the story of every one of us. We often feel politics are too distant, as if they have no relation to us. It's just like Paul; he can't see the danger of the Iraq War, nor can he see how political decisions affect him. So, he's indifferent. Only when things truly happen to us can we feel their gravity and start condemning everything we know. Unfortunately, not everyone has the chance to start over."

This exchange silenced both individuals.

"So, what's your viewpoint then? Do you agree with Paul's perspective?" Amid the silence, the curly-haired chubby guy suddenly asked, causing everyone's gaze to shift. First, they looked at the curly-haired chubby guy, then simultaneously turned their eyes to Renly.

Renly seriously scrutinized the curly-haired chubby guy for a moment. He appeared as an average guy with an unremarkable round face. Lost in a crowd, he would be easily overlooked, but his explosive mass of curls stood out prominently. His T-shirt, adorned with a Millennium Falcon print from "Star Wars", indicated he was a geek. He slung a dark green tool bag over his shoulder, giving him the appearance of a repairman coming to fix furniture rather than attending a film festival. His cheeks had been creased in a series of squints and smirks, and his whimsical appearance had a hint of Jack Black's vibe.

A smile tugged at the corners of Renly's lips. "I think war is wrong, from the very beginning. This war shouldn't have started," he provided an answer that nonetheless sidestepped the core of the curly-haired chubby guy's question.

The curly-haired chubby guy nodded meaningfully. "You must have received an elite education, right?" Although phrased as a question, his words were filled with affirmation.

For most ordinary people, they were like Paul. They were primarily concerned with their own lives and immediate circumstances, their horizons limited. But after receiving a higher education, their perspective would gradually broaden. They'd truly realize that any tangle of interests related to politics was complex and couldn't be concluded simply. This was especially true for decisions at the national level, where leaders needed to consider the country's overall interest. However, ordinary individuals couldn't see the entire picture and remained focused on personal interests. In other words, collective interests and individual interests were inherently a harmonious yet conflicting combination.

The discussion the two had just engaged in pertained to individual interests, while Renly's response addressed collective interests.

A glimmer appeared in Renly's eyes, his smile growing slightly broader. "It seems my answer didn't satisfy you."

This manner of response made the curly-haired chubby guy laugh heartily. "No, I'm a pacifist too. I agree with your viewpoint; war is wrong from the start."

On the surface, the curly-haired chubby guy's words carried a hint of criticism and provocation. However, in reality, being able to deduce such a conclusion from a single sentence of Renly's meant that the curly-haired chubby guy actually shared Renly's ideology. In other words, he too had received an elite education. That's why this brief exchange occurred.

Rooney understood immediately. A ripple of amusement surged in her eyes. Her grandfather was the owner of the New York Giants, while her maternal grandfather was the founder of the Pittsburgh Steelers. One could say she hailed from the heart of New York's upper class.

However, the two who had been arguing just now didn't catch on. They seemed a bit out of sync. "So, did the political metaphors in the script really disrupt the story's cohesion?" One of them persisted in asking, Renly, Rooney, and the curly-haired chubby guy exchanged a glance, and they all burst into laughter.

"I think you can continue delving into that with other fans," Rooney spoke up. "This is Telluride, and the clash of differing opinions is the most fascinating aspect, isn't it?"

This viewpoint immediately garnered agreement from both individuals, prompting them to briskly descend the movie theater's staircase. They walked with a sense of urgency toward the café diagonally across the street, where a large group of just-concluded moviegoers had gathered. The atmosphere was bustling and lively.

In the span of a second, from heated argument to change of position, Rooney hadn't anticipated such a turn of events and found herself a bit taken aback. The curly-haired chubby guy burst into hearty laughter, causing both Rooney and Renly to follow suit.

"I came all the way here today to watch the movie, fearing the queue would be too long, and I wouldn't get a ticket. But not only did I get to see the movie, I also saw the male lead. It seems luck is on my side today," the curly-haired chubby guy said with a cheerful smile. "I have to admit, the movie was a huge surprise, surpassing my expectations by far." He raised his hands and gently clapped them, offering his applause as a sign of respect.

Renly nodded politely, expressing his gratitude. He then turned to look at Rooney beside him. "First, I accompanied a lady to watch my work twice, and then I encountered enthusiastic fans. It seems that Telluride is my lucky place," he said in a teasing tone, dragging Rooney into the jest. Rooney, feeling a bit helpless, couldn't help but let a smile bloom on her face. "If you don't have any plans this afternoon, I strongly recommend "The Social Network". It's much better than some of the overhyped works."

The meaning-laden words prompted the curly-haired chubby guy to laugh again. He adopted an air of profundity and said, "I wonder if you're talking about "Buried" or some other work that we're all unaware of?" Evidently, Renly was referring to "The King's Speech", and the curly-haired chubby guy immediately discerned it.

Renly spread his hands in an innocent gesture. "Who knows?"

After the laughter had finally subsided, Renly pointed to the other side of the street and kindly extended an invitation. "We're actually heading to grab some breakfast now and then planning to start the second round of movie viewing. Are you planning to join your friends or come with us?"

Though they were strangers, this was Telluride, where all movie enthusiasts were friends.

The curly-haired chubby guy's gaze rested on Renly, scrutinizing him seriously for a moment, as if pondering something. His hesitant demeanor had lost the earlier decisiveness. Rooney thought he might be feeling embarrassed, so she took the initiative and said, "You're welcome to join us. We're planning to have some pancakes. If you're fond of those."

The curly-haired chubby guy laughed. "No, that's not what I meant." He waved his hand. "I'd be glad to join you. I'm just contemplating whether it would be too casual, too impolite even, if I were to invite Renly now to participate in my next project. Should I look for a more formal occasion, perhaps through your agent, and extend a serious invitation? That way, I could demonstrate my sincerity."

Seeing the sincere and determined glint in the curly-haired chubby guy's eyes, the situation suddenly became intriguing.