After notifying Claude and Laverne separately about Sarah's situation and his thoughts on "Casper," Adrian focused all his attention once again on the filming of "The Shawshank Redemption." Although this family film was also a box office hit, it was better to wait until July after "Terminator 2" was released to discuss it further. Of course, the agent could introduce it now; he believed Roselan would make an intelligent decision. There was no need for him to deceive them, right?
Okay, back to the topic of "The Shawshank Redemption." With Adrian continuously adjusting the filming schedule, Robbins finally returned to the excellent state he was in during the previous outdoor shots. We must praise Freeman here; the old fellow was very adept at maintaining his condition. Although there were times when he had to redo some takes due to being off, he was much quicker at adjusting compared to Robbins, deserving of his veteran status.
Three weeks later, "The Shawshank Redemption" finally reached its last scene, the part where Andy escaped through the sewage pipe. The reason this scene was left till the end was that Adrian thought it was just right.
"Don't you think using this as the end of filming is quite suitable?" he said.
Well, he was the director, he was the producer, so he could do as he wished, and no one had any objections.
"Scene 106, take 97, ready." The clapper board snapped as the script supervisor shouted.
Andy crawled out of the tunnel he had spent 20 years digging, with a sealed plastic bag, onto the sewage pipe. There was a small bug in the original version here. When Andy returned, he wore the Prison Warden's shoes, leaving his own in the Prison Warden's office. So, at this moment, he either wore the Warden's shoes or went barefoot, and definitely wouldn't be wearing prisoner shoes. After thinking, Adrian decided not to make any changes; after all, it was just a small bug. Maybe there was another pair of shoes in the cell?
Once Andy reached the sewage pipe, he found a small rock nearby and used it to smash down with force during the thunder, once, twice, until dark green foul-smelling liquid suddenly gushed out. A big gap was finally smashed into the sewage pipe. When the liquid finished gushing out, Andy crawled inside and started to crawl outward through the sewer. Although most of the filthy smelly fluid had sprayed out earlier, the stench in the sewer still made him nauseous and vomit occasionally, and he almost fainted from the stench several times. Yet even so, he continued to crawl toward freedom and hope ahead.
"Very good!" Adrian suddenly stood up from his director's chair and started clapping. Following his lead, the others on set joined in.
"To be honest, that wasn't easy," Robbins exhaled a long breath and sat up from the "sewer."
"Not easy? All you have to do is crawl, Tim, and…" Adrian joked as he approached the "sewer," dipping a finger into the greenish-brown liquid. "Want to try? It should taste quite good."
The seemingly disgusting liquid in the "sewer" was actually made of chocolate sauce, just like the snow in the scene where Andy walked was actually potato chip fragments.
Even so, he was met with unanimous disdain from the staff. "That's disgusting! What was the director thinking?!"
Yes, it was chocolate sauce, but during filming, it was treated as waste or urine, even if jokingly, it was still a disgusting joke.
Adrian didn't seem aware, instead humming, "Is that all it takes to disgust you? Here's another thing, you know I used a lot of metaphors in the movie, like the Bible. Do you know what Andy crawling through the sewer symbolizes? I actually made a setting here: the long sewer was a metaphor for what those male inmates do in prison!"
A burst of hisses erupted immediately, and even Robbins looked surprised, "Are you… serious?"
"Of course—it's fake!" Adrian laughed heartily, "I'm not that boring."
The metaphor about the sewer and the flower was something he read in his past life on an English movie fan site—one must admit, some fans are really too idle; they can find many things in a movie that the director never intended to express—so he just used it as a joke naturally.
Naturally, another round of hissing ensued, then Adrian waved his hand, "Alright, you've hissed enough, time to get back to work, shoot the last scenes and wrap it up!"
With the filming of Andy's escape scene completed, the filming task of "The Shawshank Redemption" came to an end. Generally, Adrian would rest for a few days before jumping into post-production. He did this in the past two times.
But this time he wanted more days off. Although the filming schedule didn't exceed expectations much, completing all scenes in 7 weeks, it was still much more tiring compared to before. Coordinating big scenes wasn't that easy either. Anyway, it was only early June, there was plenty of time. So Adrian simply decided to give himself a few more days off.
After speaking on the phone with Laverne and Claude separately, exchanging opinions and making some arrangements, and handing over the script outline of "Casper" to the company's screenwriter, he boarded a flight to London. How could he resist going to London with a few more days off, besides some things needed to be prepared?
==================================
On Phillips Street in London, there was an unremarkable three-story old apartment building marked 117. Its mottled walls and nostalgic architectural style gave it a historical appearance, making it difficult for anyone visiting for the first time to associate it with the renowned Wilson Private Detective Agency.
Dean Wilson, one of the best private detectives in London. Of course, not comparable to Mr. Sherlock at 221B Baker Street, although he had collaborated with Scotland Yard a few times. Private detectives weren't as magical as described in novels; at most, they participated in civil investigations, locating people, or collecting evidence of infidelity, which were endless.
Every industry had its leaders, and private detectives were no exception. Dean was considered the best in locating people. To date, he had solved hundreds of cases, with a completion rate over 70%. The unsolved ones were mostly due to insufficient information provided by clients.
Today, he welcomed an unusual guest at his office. Unusual because this man wore a large coat, a wide-brimmed hat, concealing his age, with black-framed glasses perched on his nose, and his little mustache was clearly fake. At first glance, Samson felt something was amiss inside.
Clearly, the visitor didn't want him to see his real face, so his motivation for commissioning a search was quite suspicious. There was a previous incident where a client found someone and sought retribution, which gave him a scare when the Scotland Yard police contacted him, so Dean was now cautious in accepting commissions.
The other party seemed to see through his thoughts and immediately smiled, "Don't worry, Mr. Wilson, you should know I was introduced by Mr. Brent."
Dean hesitated, then smiled apologetically, only now remembering this was someone his familiar client, movie producer Waddle Brent, had introduced. There shouldn't be any problems.
"Sorry," Dean hurriedly gestured, "please sit, um…"
"You can call me Sanger," the man nodded, "sorry for dressing this way to come here, I have my concerns. Of course, it won't cause you any trouble."
"Um… alright, Mr. Sanger, is there something I can do for you?" Dean asked as he looked at him.
"Yes, I'm looking for someone, a woman." The man gestured, and Dean immediately handed over a pen and paper.
"Joanna Katherine Rowling," he wrote the name on the paper and handed it back, "I'm not sure if that's the correct spelling, but it's certainly pronounced that way. A Caucasian woman around 26 years old, born July 31, 1965, probably around 5 feet tall, hair color light brownish-red."
He thought carefully, "Born in London, lived in Bristol, has a sister named Diane Rowling living in Edinburgh. It's said she's married to a Portuguese journalist and has a daughter. I hope to find out her whereabouts."
Dean swiftly noted everything down and, after thinking, asked, "Mr. Sanger, can I know the reason for looking for Ms. Joanna?"
"Sorry, that's private, but please believe me, I mean no harm; I just want to know her situation." Sanger spread his hands, looking sincere despite wearing those wide black-framed glasses.
Dean contemplated, feeling he found some answers, then looked carefully at the clues on the paper. He raised his head, "If possible, could you provide more detailed information, Mr. Sanger? The scope is quite large."
"More detailed information? Like?" The man questioned in return.
"For example, where she went to school, had she won any previous awards, as well as specific past residential addresses, and so on," Dean suggested.
"Let me think..." The man closed his eyes in thought, opening them minutes later, "If I recall correctly, she graduated from the University of Exeter."
"Could it be specific to which faculty?"
"Sorry."
"Well, that doesn't matter, just a bit troublesome... By the way, not sure of the name's spelling, but can you confirm the initials?"
"I can confirm the initials are J, K, R."
"I think I can take on this commission, but it might take some time," Dean finally said.
"No problem, I'll provide all the funding you require. Contact me at this number if you find any information," Sanger said, handing over a slip of paper. "If I think of anything else, I'll inform you immediately."
"A U.S. phone number," Dean noted, surprised.
"You can send me the phone bill," Sanger smiled slightly.