"In a moment, you all walk east to west, and you guys walk west to east. You, you, and you, move quickly, as if you're in a hurry. You, you, and you, move leisurely, chatting along the way, like it's just an ordinary Wednesday morning."
"You, over here with the kids, buy some fruit. The kids can be a little mischievous, even glance toward the pizza shop, but when you're picking out the fruit, act like you're choosing pearls."
"You guys over there, wait to cross the street at the red light..."
Blah, blah, blah.
The filming was being meticulously prepared.
There was a time when European and Asian filmmakers came to Hollywood to learn, witnessing its operations firsthand, hoping to borrow some of that expertise. But they quickly realized they couldn't replicate it—
Because Hollywood's work leaves nothing to chance. Every little detail is taken care of, crafted through sheer financial power. European and Asian film companies simply don't have the budget to manage every detail so thoroughly.
No wonder Hollywood is essentially a Wall Street capitalist game.
Right now, the same thing was happening.
"Spider-Man 2" was about to start shooting, filming a simple, ordinary scene: a slice of life on a Manhattan street where Peter Parker returns to the pizza shop and gets a harsh scolding from his boss for being late.
In Europe and Asia, due to budget constraints, film crews often go to the location and just set up a camera on the street. If they hire extras, they're usually inexpensive, temporary workers, and the crew's control over them is limited.
But in Hollywood, even extras are "professional," all registered with the actors' union, and their daily wages are strictly regulated.
So, when filming on location, the crew perfectly re-enacts the entire scene.
Who walks where, at what speed, with what posture and actions; who is doing what, with what demeanor, emotion, volume, and facial expressions; when vehicles pass by, whether there's a traffic jam, and even the drivers' moods—all meticulously planned.
Every detail, down to every person who appears on screen, is a professional extra, placed there according to the crew's precise arrangement.
Because of this, when the crew films on location, they block off at least three streets. Even the vehicles going back and forth are all arranged by the production team. Filming in big cities like New York or Los Angeles is particularly challenging.
Some directors, like Steven Spielberg, have the vision and control to perfectly present real-life scenes. But most directors don't, and the difference in the final product is clear.
Regardless, it's always a huge and complicated task, and an important expense—something only Hollywood can afford.
Occasionally, top-tier European or Asian productions will spend big money on filming, but that money usually goes toward costumes, sets, visual effects, and explosions. Very few crews are willing to spend on these seemingly trivial details.
But in Hollywood, it's the norm.
This is also why genre films increasingly rely on soundstage shooting—everything can be created with CGI, saving time, effort, and, most importantly, money.
However, there are still directors who insist on shooting on location, believing that CGI can never replace the visual and performance experience of real-life settings.
Sam Raimi is one of them.
Now, the crew was setting up for the first scene, hoping for a smooth start.
John Landis stood among the extras, listening intently to his instructions.
Although every extra's dream is to be captured on film, to be seen on camera, professionalism is professionalism. They wouldn't, and couldn't, cross the line just for a chance to be seen—
In Hollywood, many extras have tried to steal the spotlight, only to be cut entirely in editing. And the stories of extras being discovered by directors and given a real acting opportunity are pure fantasy.
Professionalism. Stay professional. That's the key to survival for extras in Hollywood.
Out of the corner of his eye, John noticed a figure approaching quickly.
A blue sweater, blue jeans, and a light gray jacket, wearing a helmet, jogging into the filming area.
John couldn't help but glance over, then stared—
Anson Wood.
Low-key, reserved, ordinary. He blended in like any regular young guy. But somehow, he always managed to catch people's attention.
If John had been unsure before, now he was completely certain. He couldn't help but gasp.
"Anson…"
John immediately realized his unprofessionalism and quickly shut his mouth.
But it was too late. His words had already set off a chain reaction. Whistles, cheers, and playful hollers started echoing from all corners of the set.
In seconds, it spread like wildfire.
"Anson, you're the best!"
"I love you!"
"Anson, ahhhhh!"
All sorts of calls surrounded Anson, turning the set into a sea of excitement. Even the crew members weren't exempt from the wave of enthusiasm.
Anson himself was equally surprised—
What kind of reception was this?
So, he joined in the cheering, clapping and shouting along with everyone else.
The noise grew louder and louder.
Then Anson said something, causing the people around him to burst into laughter.
"Hahaha."
The laughter was deafening.
Those who hadn't heard him rushed to ask, "What? What did Anson say?"
"Anson said, 'Thanks for the support! Vote Anson Wood for District 14, New York!'"
Was he teasing that the scene felt like an election rally?
The laughter rippled through the crowd, spreading across the intersection.
That's the kind of presence Anson commands now. Even on a film set, he's the undeniable center of attention. Thousands of eyes are on him—not just with envy or scrutiny, but with admiration and respect.
For a young "pretty face," this kind of treatment is almost unheard of.
But here, no one was really surprised.
After effortlessly stirring up the crowd, Anson reached the corner pizza shop, greeting everyone. He quickly spotted the middle-aged man.
"Hey, John! How's everything going? Ready?"
John blinked, his heart racing, unable to speak.
Normally, he'd boast about how he could chat casually with top stars, acting like he was friends with them. But in reality, he'd only ever seen them from a distance, never up close.
But now?
John? Was Anson really talking to him? Did Anson actually remember his name?
In his mind, John had the perfect witty reply.
In reality, all he said was, "Yes."
Yes?
That's it? Just one word? Not even a full sentence? Why was his throat so dry?
But Anson didn't seem to mind. He smiled, his eyes twinkling, "Breathe, breathe. I don't want to hear rumors tomorrow that Anson Wood is actually a monster. Then I'd have to cover my tracks."
"Hahaha," the crowd erupted in laughter.
John: Heh. Heh. His laugh was more like a cough.