From Flower Vase to Film Emperor in Hollywood

I had experienced "Friends" before, working nine-to-five, which is the norm in Hollywood.

Movie crews are no exception, perhaps because filming special scenes can lead to unstable work schedules, such as shooting night scenes or early morning scenes, and so on; but overall, an eight-hour workday is relatively fixed, with detailed provisions in the contract.

So, are there any exceptions?

Of course.

Some independent crews, some filming locations that can only be used during specific time periods, and situations where overtime is needed after unexpected events.

And so on.

But overall, an eight-hour workday is the norm, especially for large crews, otherwise the crew might get into trouble—

More than one union might protest, the Screen Actors Guild, the Directors Guild, the Cinematographers Guild, the Sound and Audio Effects Guild, and so on.

In fact, the crew themselves are unwilling.

A very important and very real reason is: the situation doesn't allow it.

Taking "Spider-Man" as an example, they choose to film on location in New York, and each scene requires a filming permit, which contains detailed regulations issued by the city hall, including time, location, and other information. Once the time is up, the crew must leave, regardless of whether filming is complete.

If filming isn't complete and reshoots are needed, then a new filming permit must be applied for.

It is precisely because of this that large Hollywood film companies often prefer studio filming, because the situation is controllable, free from interference from the natural environment, urban environment, and unexpected factors, ensuring that the crew can proceed according to the filming plan.

At the same time, when choosing cities for on-location filming, Hollywood film companies often prefer Atlanta or Toronto, because these cities have introduced relevant favorable policies, which not only reduce taxes but also provide convenience, giving the crew the green light for filming.

New York?

It's not so friendly.

But interestingly, the number of crews applying to film on location in New York every year is still countless and endless.

"Good job!"

"Excellent performance today, you can have a good rest tonight."

Amidst the noise and laughter, Anson returned to the actor's trailer, preparing to remove makeup and change clothes—

This is the crew's shared RV.

Anson's current level is not enough to have his own exclusive RV, but the crew is different.

The "Spider-Man" crew films all over New York, and needs to put on makeup and change clothes at any time, so the crew has prepared three RVs, like gypsies, wandering and traveling along the way. Everything can be done in the RV, and if you feel tired, you can take a nap in the RV.

In addition, the RV also has a most important function: confidentiality.

Protecting actors from paparazzi harassment, and keeping some styling secrets as much as possible. Although it's not that strict, the RV is at least a relatively private space, blocking all the noisy gazes from the outside world, acting as a haven like a mobile secret room.

Work, all finished, Anson entered the RV, opened the small refrigerator, took out a bottle of mineral water, and poured it back.

Glug. Glug.

Pouring it all into his stomach in one breath, Anson held an empty bottle, standing quietly in place, slightly stunned, feeling the bursts of coolness spreading, allowing all the heat, tension, and excitement to gradually unfold, and all the thoughts in his brain to calm down.

He needs a little breathing space to completely empty his brain.

Thus.

Just standing there, without thought or desire, his brain was blank, and without warning, his mouth began to secrete saliva, and he suddenly wanted to eat potato chips.

For no reason, he just wanted to eat them.

Creak.

In the silence and peace, a series of trivial noises broke the balance, interrupted Anson's thoughts, and instantly dragged Anson into reality. He reflexively looked in the direction of the noise, but his eyes were still scattered, slightly dazed, and he couldn't find anything after searching for a while.

Subconsciously, Anson stretched his ears, trying to capture traces with his hearing, but there was only silence in the air—

Whoosh.

A burst of engine roar lingered at the street corner not far away, sending a reminder that this is downtown New York, and it's normal for some noise to occur.

Maybe, it's just some noise; maybe, it's just a hallucination.

Anson was a little suspicious, maybe he just consumed too much today, and was tired and sleepy, and his nerves were sensitive, leading to some wrong judgments.

Creak. Creak creak.

The sound came again, this time Anson didn't wander off, accurately captured it, instantly woke up, and remained alert. Could it be a rat?

After carefully judging, Anson immediately denied his guess. The sound was more like friction, or the sound of a wooden board bearing pressure.

Anson wasn't afraid or panicked, but instead took the initiative to walk towards the source of the sound—

As a transmigrator, he had experienced such magical things, and he was more calm when facing unexplained phenomena in nature again.

Maybe he should find staff to come over; maybe he should open the RV door, but he didn't.

Not only didn't he, but he also showed a little curiosity and exploration, and boldly approached slowly.

Creak.

The sound came again, like sonar, helping Anson complete triangulation, determine the direction. One hundred percent, there was something else in the RV.

That corner was clearly the RV's wardrobe.

It's called a wardrobe, but the space is limited, so the crew doesn't use the wardrobe. All the styling costumes are in another RV, hanging on the gantry; and the wardrobe in front of them is used as a toolbox, placing some sundries. If rats are building a home inside, it doesn't seem that strange.

One step, and another step.

Anson gradually approached.

The trivial sound seemed to enter the RV's pipeline, scattering above his head, like rolling stones, making his scalp tingle.

This…

Looking down at the "weapon" in his hand, an empty plastic bottle, very good, very intimidating, but looking around, there was no good choice either. Anson's mouth slightly turned up, adjusted his posture, and held the empty plastic bottle tightly, posing in a Wing Chun stance.

Although he is not a martial arts master and has no way to unleash the power of Thor's hammer with an empty plastic bottle, it's still no problem to pretend to scare people.

Holding it tightly, it's like it's really Thor's hammer.

One step, and another step.

Just as Anson was about to open the wardrobe door, he never expected that the wardrobe door would open first. A dark, round object crashed into the wardrobe wall, making a muffled sound, but before Anson had time to look, a dark, bloody mouth was already rushing towards him—

Click.

It's not a monster, but it's better than a monster, it's actually a flash.

Click click click, a burst of fierce operation, light and sound vented down.