The bustling crowd momentarily shifted their gaze from Sam to Anson, but it only lasted a brief second before their attention scattered again. After all, no one expected Anson to have much say, especially not in front of the director.
That had become the norm. None of these "chosen workers" had any voice in the matter.
There was a slight pause in the air. A faint difference in temperature hung between Sam and the crew, subtly tightening the atmosphere in the studio.
Then, Anson broke the silence.
"Director, could we at least finish filming this scene in one go?"
Swish. All eyes turned to Anson.
Even Sam seemed a bit surprised.
But Anson didn't shy away.
"Director, you should take a look at my current position. I'm not joking."
"Of course, creative sparks and brainstorming are great. We're all on board—hallelujah—the movie's moving in a positive direction. But we need to take things step by step. We've finally found our rhythm, and no one wants to lose it again in a mad scramble."
"And honestly, I know no one's complaining, but if I may—if I'd known, I would've eaten more at lunch. I'm going to need some afternoon tea to refuel."
His tone was light, humorous, a mix of jest and slight grumbling. The atmosphere instantly eased.
Sam scratched his head awkwardly. His thoughts hadn't quite caught up—his burst of inspiration wasn't met with the reaction he'd expected.
"Director," Anson called out again. Sam didn't lift his head.
"I love your ideas. I just need to get back to reality to think clearly."
Sam finally couldn't hold back, the corners of his mouth relaxed, and so did his shoulders. "Sorry, I wasn't thinking just now."
The director apologized!
The entire crew breathed a collective sigh of relief.
Anson tilted his head, "Wasn't it because you were thinking?"
Sam chuckled and looked over at the wire rig team. "Lower our lead actor. He's about to pass out."
Finally.
Anson's feet touched the ground again, regaining control of his body.
Meanwhile, the wire riggers could finally relax their hands after holding Anson up for so long. It was not only physically exhausting but also required immense concentration—just a slight lapse could result in an accident.
Noah immediately stepped forward, offering tea and water to the rigging team, asking about their afternoon snack preferences with warmth and consideration.
Anson, however, needed to relax.
Being suspended by wires for so long took a toll on the body.
First, the spine, which bore the brunt of the pressure.
Second, the inner thighs. In the "Spider-Man" comics, Gwen dies from spinal injuries caused by the immense force during her fall, despite Peter's web saving her mid-air. To prevent actors from suffering a similar fate, protective harnesses are used around the thighs to maintain core balance.
The downside is the heat and friction on the inner thighs, amplifying discomfort, particularly for men. After just a few hours, Anson's thighs were red and swollen, and his knees were trembling slightly.
Suspension on wires is torture for everyone involved.
During break time, Anson had to fully relax.
But like Sam, his mind was still racing.
Anson had been thinking about how to make this scene even better. Most importantly, how to make Spider-Man's aerial movements look more graceful and dynamic—key elements of a superhero film.
Sam's recent burst of inspiration had sparked something in Anson too.
Anson first went to discuss with the stunt coordinator and then with the wire riggers. After confirming the feasibility of his ideas, he approached Sam.
After explaining his thoughts in detail, Sam pondered for a moment.
"Are you sure?"
Anson shrugged slightly. "No, not sure."
Sam blinked in surprise.
Anson added, "But I want to try. Filmmaking is the art of creating dreams, right? Things that can't happen in real life can happen in the world of imagination."
Sam looked at Anson again. Not only was he not acting like a diva, but he was fully immersed in the sequel's production—this was a good sign.
Sony-Columbia had been worried about Anson, especially after his ambitious contract negotiations, where he had pushed hard to test their limits. Though they eventually reached an agreement, no one could tell if the deal was worth it until the film hit theaters.
Now, it seemed Sony-Columbia had nothing to worry about.
"Alright." Sam nodded.
Sam was known for being demanding, but it was clear that Anson was equally dedicated to perfection.
"Let's do it," Sam added.
Anson spread his hands. "Well, considering the length of those numbers on the paycheck, I don't have much of a choice."
Sam burst into laughter.
Meanwhile, Harry was growing anxious.
He'd been trying to find the perfect moment to snap some photos, undetected, and walk away unscathed. But time was running out, and the longer he waited, the greater the chance of being caught.
What now?
Harry finally thought of the perfect moment. He would capture a shot of Anson during his mid-air 360-degree spin, showcasing the new costume in all its glory—a photo that would blow away the competition.
None of those sneaky shots of Anson's costume peeking out while changing, or him in slippers stepping out of his trailer. Those were child's play compared to what Harry had in mind.
TMZ wouldn't settle for that. If they were going to break a story, it had to be big—something that could rewrite the industry.
The concept, composition, angle, and camera were all set. Now he just needed the scene to start again.
But!
After one failed take, the crew didn't jump into another. Instead, Anson was busy rehearsing with the wire team again.
Harry remained hidden behind a waterproof tarp and a pile of crates. He wasn't worried about being found out—his concern was the catering truck leaving before he could sneak off after the shoot. Otherwise, his plan would fall apart.
And it was sweltering. Sweat drenched his back, and Harry regretted not bringing two bottles of water.
Damn it.
Harry cursed silently.
Still, he remained patient, channeling his inner Ninja Turtle.
Finally—
The wire team was back in position, ready to go. Harry perked up, knowing the shoot was about to resume.
This was a one-shot deal. Miss it, and there might not be another chance.
Sure enough, the crew got ready, back in action.
Take sixteen.
"Action!"
Harry held his breath, eyes locked on Anson's position, his finger hovering over the shutter.
Waiting.
Still waiting.
Swoosh.
There he was!