Hoping to close her eyes, Hope felt the urge to shut them three minutes into the film. The claustrophobic fear and the panic of dire circumstances gripped her heart relentlessly, causing it to pound as if it would burst through her chest.
Especially within the pervasive darkness of the entire screening hall, it surrounded her like a tide, leaving only the glimmering cold light from the large screen faintly illuminating the space. This intensified the sensation of being present within the scenes, synchronizing her pulse with the rhythm of Paul on the movie screen. The sense of suffocation swept over her.
However, Hope didn't want to close her eyes. Even blinking felt like a luxury. Each frame exuded powerful authenticity and shock, firmly grasping her emotions, not allowing a single moment of relaxation.
In moments of trance, she even forgot that the man on the screen was Renly, just an ordinary person trapped in dire straits, struggling for survival. He could be Paul Conroy, or anyone present there. The strong sense of survival pierced through the screen's barrier, flowing into her veins, creating a shared experience.
The entire viewing process was undeniably brutal, incredibly intense, and more tightly wound than even a rollercoaster, teetering on the edge of danger.
When she saw Paul finish recording the video will, gazing calmly at the flames on his chest, his expression serene and tranquil, it was as if he lay amidst a pile of soft pillows, holding a cup of hot milk, surrounded by piles of snacks. Children's laughter and a wife's chattering echoed in his ears, basking in the lazy afternoon sunlight—a moment of leisure and luxury.
Finally, Hope couldn't hold back anymore, her hand covered her mouth, tears blurring her gaze fixed on the big screen, lost in the overwhelming emotions.
They often saw related news on TV or in newspapers, "Armed conflict erupts in Iraq, resulting in the deaths of three soldiers and seventeen injured in gunfire standoff," or "A civilian kidnapped in Afghanistan, captors demand a ransom of ten million dollars, but the White House refuses to negotiate with terrorists"...
Each time they encountered such news, they felt a pang of sympathy, a myriad of emotions, sometimes even uncontrollable anger, advocating for justice for the victims. Yet most of the time, they would just sigh a few words, lament a bit. Because those incidents were too distant, those were just strangers; they couldn't truly fathom how harsh the reality on the ground was.
But now, through the large screen, they were witnessing the process of death, the process of kidnapping, watching helplessly as a person stepped closer and closer to the end of life. This was even more terrifying than an execution, as if their hands were stained with blood, as if they were right there.
The profound shock from deep within their souls, mixed with a faintly contented smile on Paul Conroy's serene face, ruptured to the extreme, easily breaching the psychological defenses of each and every audience member.
Will he be saved? He should be saved, right? He can be saved, right? This is a movie, isn't it? A Hollywood production? In Hollywood works, the main theme always persists, the ending is usually a happily-ever-after, the noble White House sings heroism, and it can always turn the tide at the last moment, reshaping the glorious image of the American empire, right?
Unprecedentedly, Hope was yearning for a clichéd, repugnant, stereotypical ending. This conviction was the sole driving force pushing her to keep watching. Otherwise, this was truly too cruel, and she genuinely couldn't bear to keep her eyes open.
However, Hope was disappointed.
"I'm sorry, truly sorry."
The last glimmer of the flashlight faded into darkness, the grand and mournful melody came to a halt. Everything plunged into calmness. The entire screening hall immersed in obscurity, drowning in impenetrable darkness. The film had ended.
Hope stood frozen in her spot, her eyes widened in incredulity. She stared blankly at the large screen. Even the rhythm of her breath had escaped her memory. Tears of joy remained suspended on her lashes, refusing to fall. Her entire being stiffened in her seat, like a porcelain doll devoid of its soul—motionless and indifferent.
Not a single sound echoed around her ears. It was as if the entire theater had turned into an empty city, devoid of any lingering soul. This silence was as cold as the ice and snow of the Arctic, gradually seeping through her skin, eroding the warmth of her body. Her blood circulation and heartbeat slowed down, as if vitality was gradually dissipating. This slow and profound sensation of drowning was even more terrifying than despair itself.
The movie had concluded.
However, no one in the hall rose to leave. Everyone remained silently seated, gazing at the subtitles rolling slowly upwards. Their eyes remained transfixed, their minds locked in total stillness, their brains completely frozen, immobilized.
In her innermost thoughts, Edith let out a soft sigh, quipping and complaining, "This guy... What kind of movie is he acting in? It's unexpectedly so gripping, leaving no breathing room. I wanted to play the damsel in distress, seeking refuge in the arms of the man beside me, but there was never a chance. It's really disappointing. He might as well act in some light-hearted films, show off some handsomeness, some cuteness. Isn't that better? Occasionally, he could even take off his shirt, showing off some abs. Seriously. Why subject himself to so much hardship?"
Edith raised her right hand, discreetly wiping away the tear at the corner of her eye. The slightly trembling fingertips betrayed her true emotions. Yet, she quickly curled her fingers back, concealing all her feelings. She let out a gentle exhale, yet her chest remained burdened. This made her gaze momentarily lose focus, as if she was caught between the emotions of the movie and her own.
In the shelter of darkness, no one could see.
The lights in the hall gradually brightened. The fleeting emotions in Edith's eyes disappeared, replaced by her usual rebellious and proud demeanor. Even her exquisite makeup remained untouched, as if the film that had just played had no impact whatsoever.
Hope turned her head in bewilderment, scanning her surroundings. Her gaze had no focal point or distance, only a blurry void. Finally, she looked at her companion seated next to her, "Billy, the movie hasn't ended yet, right? He'll be saved, won't he? There's still an after-credits scene, isn't there?"
William sank into his chair, the surging shock within him refusing to subside. He was currently in a stage where rational thought eluded him, where breathing felt arduous. It was as if even his soul could sense the grand silence and emptiness. He had never known that acting could be so simple yet so awe-inspiring, that a movie could be so straightforward yet so profound, that reality could be so cruel while also being so despairing...
Upon hearing a voice, William turned his head to look at Hope, but his blurred focus failed to locate its target. His gaze hovered emptily and drifted about, aching with a pang of melancholy.
"Hope..." Graham opened his mouth and called her name.
He wanted to say, the movie had ended, life had ended—this was reality. Behind those heroic dreams lay the demise of more innocent lives. Just like those terrorist attacks, unless one's familiar family or friends were involved, everything remained mere numerical figures in the news, devoid of tangible feelings.
However, his words got stuck in his throat. Graham choked on his saliva, and scalding tears unexpectedly rolled down his cheeks, a surge of desolation overcame him.
A suspense film, a low-budget and small-scale solo performance, a movie with a simple story and shallow depth, yet it firmly gripped the heartstrings of every viewer, rising and falling, leaving them insatiable. The entire viewing process might have been torment, or perhaps it was enjoyment. The complex taste of exhilaration abruptly ceasing left people filled with intense abhorrence yet an inability to stop.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the exit warning lights illuminate. A staff member entered, seemingly reminding everyone to leave. Slowly, people began to rise, and the tranquil screening hall finally regained a bit of lively commotion.
"Hey, everyone's still here," the newcomer shouted out loudly. His ordinary words resounded like thunder on flat ground in the quiet screening hall, instantly drawing everyone's gazes toward him.
Hope lifted her head and then spotted a figure leisurely walking to the center of the screening hall. Like a ray of light in still water, her eyes emitted a glow, gradually dispelling all gloominess. It was Renly.
"Young Master!" Hope couldn't hold back any longer and blurted out.
Renly was momentarily stunned. For a moment, he felt like he had returned to London. But he quickly snapped back to reality, smiling as he nodded towards Hope. "I just realized that you all specially came to watch the midnight showing. It's undoubtedly the best affirmation for the movie. Never mind whether you liked the film..."
Before Renly could finish his words, William shouted with all his might, "Liked it!" Then others chimed in, "Really liked it," "I love it," "I'm crazy about it," "It's so thrilling," "What's up with the ending"... The rising and falling voices filled the screening hall, creating a lively atmosphere.
A gentle smile tugged at the corner of Renly's mouth. "I choose to believe this is genuine. Although you always say things against your hearts because the actor is present." This jest elicited laughter from everyone. "The director and other members of the cast and crew didn't come tonight. So, I'm here on behalf of the crew, to thank you all for your support. Thank you."
This was Renly's gesture. He clearly understood what the midnight showing symbolized. Regardless of the audience's mindset when they arrived, watching the movie was the concrete support that an independent film like "Buried" needed.
"You know, "Buried" is a low-budget independent film. We didn't have much funding for promotion, so I specially brought the entire "Fast 5" crew here today to help promote it. Now, it's your turn," Renly's half-joking, half-serious words were filled with teasing and jesting, and the laughter in the entire room simply couldn't stop.
"There's still a bit of time before the party. I can stay here a bit longer. Anyone has questions?" Renly asked tentatively, but he didn't expect that the entire room would raise their arms, a dense and spectacular scene. Renly raised an eyebrow, jokingly saying, "Wow, I hope I won't be late for the party later."