Truman began to test the waters. He started doing things that were out of the ordinary, making strange and uncharacteristic moves, and quietly observing everything around him. His eyes were like those of a startled fawn, filled with fear and unease toward the world he was living in.
Through these tests and accidents, he eventually wandered into a tall building. After pressing the elevator button and stepping inside, he was shocked to discover that what lay behind the doors was not an elevator at all, but rather a backstage resting set.
Inside, there were even actors eating snacks and lounging around. Truman tried to say something, but before he could, people rushed forward, grabbed him, and forcibly threw him back outside.
A wave of overwhelming terror seized Truman's heart. In his panic, he decided to confide in his best friend, Marlon, hoping to find solace. Yet what awaited him was only another trap. Marlon's words were deliberately crafted to bind Truman emotionally to this place, coaxing him into cherishing the town rather than doubting it.
When Truman returned home, his mother came bringing along a photo album, gently urging him to recall the beauty of his past. Roger squinted his eyes as he watched, like a butterfly trapped and struggling to flap its wings, desperately yearning to escape this cursed place. But at the same time, the spider was already spinning a fresh new web to keep him caught.
Later, Truman's mother and wife both temporarily left. On television, programs were being broadcast that also tried to rekindle Truman's attachment to the town.
Truman irritably flipped through the photo album, when his eyes suddenly froze—he discovered that in one of the wedding photos, his wife's middle finger and index finger were crossed. That subtle hand gesture carried a hidden meaning: "I am lying. Please forgive me."
That revelation sent a chill through Truman. He began to recall all the peculiar behaviors his wife had displayed in the past. At the time, he had simply assumed she had a strange obsession with recommending products to him, but now, in light of this clue, it seemed the truth might be something far more sinister.
The only thing that had ever felt truly genuine to Truman were Pokémon. Yet ironically, he had never once been able to own a Pokémon himself—because whenever he hugged one, his entire body broke out in red rashes due to his supposed "allergy."
Determined to seek the truth, Truman began testing his wife. He pursued her all the way to the hospital, insisting on witnessing the surgery she claimed to have that day.
Along the way, countless people tried to block him and hinder his path, but Truman still forced his way into the operating room. What he found there, however, was nothing more than a ridiculous performance—there was no patient being operated on at all. He had been deceived yet again.
Worse still, Truman accidentally stumbled upon the truth behind his so-called "allergy." The reason he broke out in rashes whenever he hugged a Pokémon was not due to any natural cause, but because their fur and feathers had been deliberately sprinkled with medicinal powder to trigger the reaction.
The director feared Truman might one day develop a genuine bond with Pokémon. Such a relationship could ultimately destroy everything they had so carefully constructed.
This crushing despair drove Truman into a frenzy. He tried to buy a plane ticket to Alola, only to learn that the next available flight would not depart until a month later. Undeterred, he purchased a bus ticket instead, but when the time came to depart, the driver practically slammed the gas pedal to the floor and still, somehow, the bus never left the station.
From this, Truman realized something chilling—whenever he tried to leave, the entire town itself would conspire against him to keep him in. This discovery, rather than discouraging him, only strengthened his resolve to escape.
So, Truman confronted his wife. Dragging her into a car, he told her everything he had uncovered. And indeed, events played out exactly as Truman had predicted, confirming all of his suspicions.
This made him even more desperate. He drove recklessly with his wife at his side, racing aimlessly, until finally the police stopped them on a bridge. In his breakdown, Truman even went so far as to hold his own wife hostage.
At that moment, Marlon appeared again. His presence calmed Truman somewhat, and the two of them went to the broken bridge to talk. Marlon appeared to be speaking sincerely, but in reality, every word he spoke was being fed to him by the director behind the scenes.
Yet when Marlon uttered the line, "I will never lie to you," he hesitated ever so slightly. That hesitation made Truman's eyes widen in shock. Tears streamed down his cheeks uncontrollably.
In that instant, Truman realized the painful truth: even his best friend was just an actor. His entire life had been one enormous lie—his wife was an actress, his friend was an actor, and everything around him was staged.
The theater audience watching all of this unfold fell silent. They watched Truman's dawning realization with heavy hearts, waiting to see how he would break free from these chains of deception.
Then Marlon suddenly produced Truman's father, staging a heart-wrenching father-son reunion. It was a performance designed to tug at the heartstrings of the viewers outside the set, drawing their sympathy and attention.
But the cold, mechanical commands of the director behind the curtain only made Roger shiver—Truman was nothing more than a puppet, a doll manipulated by others.
Soon after, during a televised interview, the director of The Truman Show even declared his plans to release Truman's very first intimate moment on broadcast, all for the sake of higher ratings. Such an announcement meant Truman's future would be stripped of every shred of privacy.
The despair was suffocating. Yet strangely, Truman seemed to regain himself after the return of his father. He resumed his daily routine, smiling, laughing heartily, speaking his usual lines as though nothing had happened.
Everything appeared to be spiraling toward tragedy—until one day, Truman went down to the basement to sleep. Everyone monitoring him thought nothing was wrong.
But the director, upon reviewing the camera footage, noticed something unusual. He rewound and replayed the tape, then caught a fleeting glimpse of a hand where it shouldn't be. Alarmed, he ordered Marlon to go check.
What Marlon discovered was shocking: the Truman asleep in the basement was not Truman at all, but a dummy stuffed with a tape recorder that played fake snoring sounds.
Even more terrifying, Marlon uncovered a hidden passage that led directly outside.
Truman had deceived them all. This loss of control terrified the director, who immediately ordered the entire Seahaven town to be searched. Every street, every house, every corner was combed, yet Truman was nowhere to be found.
Finally, the director realized the truth. He turned the cameras toward the sea, and there—out on the open water—Truman was found. Against all odds, he had overcome his lifelong fear of the sea.
"This director made a foolish mistake," Roger muttered, shaking his head. "By giving Truman back his father, he inadvertently helped him conquer his greatest fear. If he hadn't reunited them, Truman might still have been terrified of the ocean. But now, everything has been ruined."
Roger had already learned from earlier broadcasts that Seahaven was nothing more than a massive soundstage, with its sky and horizon painted on backdrops. If Truman kept sailing forward, it was inevitable he would eventually crash into the wall of the set.
The director, unwilling to lose Truman, dialed up the storm machines, whipping up towering waves to put Truman's life in danger. Yet Truman did not yield. Exhausted and soaked, he continued sailing on. Watching him, even the director felt a flicker of hesitation—after all, he had raised Truman, watched him grow up, and inevitably developed some attachment.
But Truman roared defiantly: "Is that the best you can do? You'll have to kill me to stop me!" His furious cry infuriated the director, who pushed the storm to its maximum setting. The boat nearly capsized. Yet as he watched Truman's unyielding struggle, the director finally relented. The storm ceased, and the sea grew calm.
The sun broke through the clouds once more. Truman's boat drifted onward until its bow suddenly pierced through a wall—the painted horizon.
Stunned, Truman realized that the sky he had always seen was nothing more than an artificial set. He slammed against it, pounded his fists in despair, and after venting his grief, he calmed down. Walking along the edge of the sea, he discovered a staircase.
At the top stood a door, labeled simply: "Exit."
At that moment, the director spoke directly to him. He tried to persuade Truman to stay, telling him that if he remained, he would continue being the protagonist of this world, adored and central. But if he stepped outside, he would face the harshness of reality—a reality that, in truth, might be nothing more than another stage.
Truman was faced with a choice.
He smiled. Looking up at the sky where the hidden camera lens watched, he seemed almost to meet Roger's gaze, and he spoke his iconic farewell:
"In case I don't see you… good afternoon, good evening, and good night."
With elegance, Truman bowed deeply, then stepped through the door, leaving forever the stage that had been built to trap him.
Outside, the audience erupted in cheers. They wept, they shouted, they celebrated. Even Truman's first love dashed out of her apartment, hurrying to find him.
It seemed like the perfect happy ending. The director removed his glasses, looking dejected, as the broadcast of The Truman Show came to an end.
And yet Roger couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing. The conclusion was good, but somehow it still lacked a final touch of brilliance.
That touch came in the film's very last shot. Two security guards who had earlier celebrated Truman's escape were now sitting blankly in front of a television, asking: "So… what else is on?" "Check the TV guide."
With that, the film truly ended.
Roger's pupils quivered violently. That single exchange between the two guards elevated the ending to an entirely new level of depth.
Barely twenty minutes after the premiere ended, Roger published a lengthy review online:
First, this review contains spoilers. If you haven't watched the film yet, please see my other spoiler-free review. Only readers who provide proof of purchase may view this version.
In my opinion, The Truman Show is a profound and highly creative film. Director Edward was right—this is not a horror movie. It is a comedy on the surface, but more than that, it is a philosophical exploration of human nature, free will, and the essence of reality itself. Through the life experiences of its protagonist Truman, the film constructs a grand metaphor that compelled me to re-examine the authenticity of my own world and life.
The most captivating element of this film is its ingenious premise: a massive television production team secretly constructing a vast false world for thirty years, solely to entertain audiences by watching an unwitting man's life.
This concept is not only bold and original, but it also cleverly intertwines modern media culture, elements of reality shows, and reflections on privacy and moral boundaries. It paints the portrait of a technologically advanced yet morally bankrupt society.
The Truman Show profoundly explores the complexity of human nature. Truman's yearning for freedom, his pursuit of truth, and his ultimate courage to escape his false world embody humanity's eternal longing for free will and authentic living.
At the same time, the film also lays bare the voyeurism of its audience—the way outsiders, myself included, consume others' lives as entertainment.
It raises the uncomfortable question: in our world where reality and entertainment blur more each day, are we too, in some sense, the audience of someone else's "Truman," ignoring the real emotions and lives of those around us?*
The film blurs the line between reality and fiction, provoking deep reflection on the question: what is real? Seahaven is a carefully designed lie. Yet when Truman seeks truth and attempts to break free, he is resisted by both his "creator" and his "audience." This mirrors society's restrictions on individual freedom, while also posing a chilling question: in a world that can be manipulated and constructed, how can we ever be certain our experiences are real? Sometimes, I even fear—what if my own world is false as well?
Then Roger posted a spoiler-free review as well:
"In my evaluation, this is a film fully deserving of the title Best Film of the Year. Without a doubt."
The very next morning, Edward was bombarded by phone messages.
"Nine hours and the box office has already broken fifty million?" Edward glanced at the news on his phone, yawned, and showed little reaction.
The Truman Show had always been his awards-season film, carefully tailored for Jim Carrey, and he didn't particularly care about box office results. After all, the film didn't generate any horror-related points, and Edward planned to use the proceeds to develop his company, further expanding Ghost Films, and thus achieve greater profitability
What truly concerned him now was his next film project.
He had already decided—it would still be The Grudge. This time, however, he planned to adapt Ju-On: The Curse 2 as the basis for the plot. Kayako would continue her killing spree, and he would also include the subplot originally placed at the end of the first film, where the real estate agent and his sister enter the haunted house.
This arrangement would make the storyline flow more cohesively. Of course, Ju-On's plotlines were always chaotic by nature, but Edward had long since gotten used to it. In the end, the key was simply to escalate the horror gradually, intensifying the audience's sense of dread step by step.
"Ju-On, huh…" Edward scratched his head. The Curse 2 was indeed quite good—perfect for terrifying audiences. Since viewers had now enjoyed a few months of relative calm, this would be the right time to plunge them back into fear.
He had briefly considered making other films, such as Shutter or even The Curse (Noroi). But after some thought, he abandoned those ideas. To him, The Curse felt too inauspicious. It began with chanting, paired with hand gestures, guiding the audience to recite along. Only later would viewers realize that this ritual was a way of spreading the curse among themselves.
Although the production team's intent had been to "break the fourth wall" and give the audience a sense of participation, in reality it did the opposite. It only infuriated viewers, evoking the same sickening feeling as those old-fashioned chain letters: "Share this or you're not truly one of us.""Forward this to ten people, or your relatives will die."
To protect his reputation, Edward had decisively discarded the project. Better to let such a film sink forever into the sea of disdain.
"Young Master Edward," the old butler said, pouring him a steaming cup of tea.
"Grandpa Robert, do we still have funds left for meteorite acquisitions?" Edward asked, taking a sip. The butler shook his head. A hundred million might sound like a lot, but after months of continuous purchasing, their reserves were running dry.
Seeing this, Edward said nothing more, but calmly allocated another hundred million to continue the search. If even after throwing this much money at the problem they still could not find a meteorite that satisfied Rayquaza, then it could only be chalked up to fate.
Just as Edward lifted his cup for another drink, a loud crash shook the house. A rock smashed through the roof and fell straight onto the table before him.
"...?"
(End of Chapter)