"Benny."
A new face emerged, moving against the flow in a hellish scene filled with corpses and rivers of blood.
While the other students and teachers were frantically fleeing the school, overwhelmed by fear, Benny was the exception. He moved toward the source of the disaster.
Calm, composed, and unhurried.
The lockers in the hallway were engulfed in flames, the orange glow driving away the darkness and cold but offering no warmth or safety. Instead, it felt like a living hell, with hidden depths of endless difficulty and despair beneath the surface. Benny passed by the lockers without a second glance, continuing forward.
The entire scene was bizarre.
Benny didn't act like a hero, ready to turn the tide, bring justice, or stop the disaster. In the midst of the panic and terror, his calm demeanor made him seem more like a wandering soul, detached from the world of mortals, witnessing human suffering from the sidelines.
Everything was too calm, too serene—like the mood conveyed throughout the entire film:
Mundane everyday life, dull conversations, a peaceful day. A slice of ordinary life carved out of a chaotic, horrible world. Then, violence barges in, but it coexists with that violence.
Benny's calmness was like that of an outsider, an observer.
Though he saw the violence happening, he remained indifferent.
Is this meant to represent everyone in real life?
In an instant, defenses broke down—
No one wants to admit they're cold-blooded, no one wants to admit they're weak.
Online keyboard warriors often spout hateful rhetoric, bragging about how they despise evil and are so brave, acting like they could take down 300 men with a single punch. They self-righteously condemn others for cowardice. But when real danger strikes, maybe those same "tough guys" would be the first to wet their pants.
Even if that's not the case—
How many people actually stand up in the face of danger? And how many look the other way, ignoring it completely? How many people pretend nothing is happening, shutting their eyes and ears, sweeping problems under the rug?
It's all like the elephant in the room.
The elephant is clearly there, but no one talks about it. People even pretend it doesn't exist, much like how violence, discrimination, and prejudice persist. People are either too stupid to see it or too clever to pretend they don't.
Just like what's unfolding here.
That eerie feeling quietly permeated the Lumière Hall.
Then—
Benny found Alicia in the meeting room, her legs stiff, unable to move. While all the other students had escaped through the windows, Alicia was rooted to the spot, consumed by helplessness, wanting to flee but frozen in place.
Benny reached out and helped Alicia escape through the window, but he didn't leave himself. He turned back and continued wandering the hallway.
Whew.
Lumière Hall collectively exhaled a sigh of relief—
If Benny represents the audience, at least they wouldn't feel too stung. Or rather, the sting would be slightly lessened.
Benny helped Alicia.
And who knows, maybe the reason Benny didn't leave was that he planned to help more people. All those strange feelings earlier were just wild imagination. Maybe Gus didn't intend for such an interpretation at all—maybe the audience was simply overanalyzing it.
Maybe Benny really was the hero.
A small glimmer of hope lit up in their minds, and the taut nerves relaxed just a little.
In the orange glow of the flames, Eric saw Mr. Roose.
Roose was evacuating students, urging them to leave quickly. But when he turned, he saw the dark barrel of a gun.
"...Eric."
Roose was stunned.
Eric took a step closer.
Roose backed away repeatedly, "What are you doing? Put the gun down!"
Eric fired a shot into the air, "I refuse."
Roose's knees buckled, and he collapsed to the ground. "Put down the gun, let's talk this out. We..."
Eric interrupted, "Shut up!"
The scene shifted to outside the school, where Anson continued moving through the crowd.
The school was smoking, and there had been an explosion in the gym. Everyone had heard the commotion and was running, though no one had completely left the area—
No one knew exactly what was happening; most thought it was just a fire. Curious onlookers gathered, eager to see what was going on.
Maybe Anson was the only exception.
His eyes, wide and frantic, stared at the school. He was out of breath, his movements panicked as he weaved through the crowd, utterly incapable of processing what was happening. His blue eyes lost focus.
Then—
He stopped. Taking a deep breath, he stared ahead for a moment before raising his right hand to shout.
"Dad!"
Only then did he swallow, his throat unbearably dry.
Anson stepped forward to meet his father.
His father ran over. "The school's on fire." Clearly, he didn't understand the situation.
Anson bent slightly, his knees weak, the tension draining from him as the shock set in. But he quickly straightened up. "Are you okay?"
His father replied, "I'm fine." He looked Anson over, wanting to comfort him but unsure of what to say.
Anson couldn't help but glance at the school. "I saw two guys go in..."
Bang, bang, bang.
Gunshots rang out, followed by screams. The fleeing students had now formed a chaotic mass.
Anson's shoulders flinched. "They had black bags and camo gear."
"Oh my God..." His father instinctively grabbed Anson's arm.
Anson asked, "Where were you just now?"
His father hesitated. "I was just..." His words trailed off, his eyes shifting away. He tried to give Anson a hug but found himself unable to move. "I'm sorry..."
Anson glanced at his father, saying nothing, and turned his gaze back to the smoking school.
Ding-ling-ling, ding-ling-ling—
The school's fire alarm rang.
Benny was still moving upstream. As he turned a corner, he saw Eric and Mr. Roose.
But Benny didn't turn away. He tiptoed, moving quietly, continuing to approach.
The collective breath in Lumière Hall was suddenly stifled, hearts pounding in their throats:
So Anson wasn't the savior—Benny was.
That's it, Benny couldn't possibly represent an apathetic person indifferent to violence. Benny was surely the hero, one who stayed hidden among ordinary people but was ready to stand up at the crucial moment.
Like countless Hollywood films, the hero would show up at the last minute, save the day, and rescue the world. That narrative had been ingrained for so long, it was almost expected—even Sundance indie films weren't exempt from this Hollywood formula.
But then—
Eric heard a noise and turned.
Eric looked at Benny. Benny looked at Eric.
Bang.
Eric pulled the trigger. Benny fell, blood pooling around him.
Lumière Hall fell silent. Even the sounds of breathing and heartbeats seemed to stop, a silence like a never-ending free fall, with only the whistling of wind freezing the soul bit by bit.
All guesses, all speculation—abruptly cut short.
Then, Eric turned back to Mr. Roose, who lay on the floor. Roose couldn't take his eyes off Benny, watching him quietly, for a long, long time.
Lumière Hall did the same.