The young girl before him had no recognition of the person in front of her, even though he was the recently prominent figure, Renly Hall, who had been making waves in recent times. She strolled with a graceful gait, imitating the mannerisms of the streetwalkers, exuding her own sensuality, and then disappeared into the distance.
In truth, nobody paid any attention to the man sitting cross-legged at the abandoned doorstep. He was just an ordinary vagabond, one among countless vagabonds in the streets and alleys of the Bronx. If you ventured under the bridges or near the garbage dumps, you'd find hundreds more vagabonds, and they even had bonfire parties at night. To all appearances, there was nothing remarkable about him.
Naturally, nobody would connect this dirty and scruffy man with the man who had been in the media spotlight. But even if the nearby residents knew this was Renly, to them, what mattered was not the person "Renly Hall" but the financial interests associated with the familiar name. In their eyes, Renly was supposed to be a wealthy man.
However, at this very moment, Renly was nothing more than a full-fledged vagabond.
He wore tattered t-shirts and a rough canvas coat, his feet were encased in open-toed black boots, revealing colorless socks within. A fisherman's cap with a torn opening adorned his head, and greasy hair peeked out from the gap. Even his face was covered in various layers of grime, his chin sporting a disheveled beard, making his features nearly unrecognizable. Beside him, a canvas bag was stuffed with all sorts of discarded items, including a table lamp, shoes, clothes, and books, like a treasure trove.
Dirty, disheveled, unkempt, wretched, weathered, and downcast, this vagabond showed no signs of vulnerability.
Ten days ago, Renly had officially wrapped up all the recording work for his album, and then he had a brief meeting with Tony Kaye. The location for the shoot of "Detachment" had been secured, and the production team had signed a two-month agreement with a high school, but they had to wait until the high school students finished their final exams before they could begin filming. So, the production team had set a start date, immediately after the end of the exams, which was still two full weeks away from the time of their meeting.
When he initially decided to take on this project, Renly had already defined his approach to performance: this would be a test of his skills as a method actor, providing him with a platform to showcase everything he had learned so far, especially the fundamentals he had acquired in acting school, as well as what he had honed in London's West End and on Broadway.
Over the past three months, Renly had pored over the script of "Detachment" more than forty times, with the script pages now worn at the edges. He had dissected every character in the script, not just Henry but also every character with or without significant scenes, and he had engaged in multiple discussions with the screenwriter, Carl Lund, to understand the backgrounds of each character and Carl's original intent and vision for the script.
For method acting, script analysis formed the bedrock of the entire performance, the cornerstone of it all.
These repeated readings and deep dives had given Renly a comprehensive and profound understanding of Tony and Carl's artistic sources. He knew that method acting didn't require personal experience or immersion, but he still decided to explore the characters further, albeit differently from before.
Renly didn't delve into Henry's life experiences and background but instead chose to observe the "Detachment" children as seen through Henry's perspective. Those children deep in despair, those who had chosen to give up. Strictly speaking, this wasn't exactly Henry's perspective but rather Tony and Carl's perspective, or perhaps that of an onlooker.
Because Renly yearned to gain a deeper understanding of what true despair was. What it meant to be truly lifeless, continuing to exist but stagnating.
For Renly, who had lived two lifetimes, this was an entirely unfamiliar territory. In his previous life, he had initially devoted himself entirely to learning and had then been confined to a sickbed, with movies serving as an outlet for his dreams and aspirations. In this life, he had consistently enriched himself in music, literature, art, performance, and even sports. However, from start to finish, he had never given up, nor had he ever truly despaired.
The difference between "50/50" and "Detachment" lay in the fact that both Adam and Henry faced the depths of despair. Adam attempted resistance but reluctantly surrendered his fate to the unknown, while Henry fought against it but ultimately chose to give up. This kind of "despair" was abstract, something Renly could express through method acting, but he wanted to make it more concrete and rich.
So, Renly transformed himself into a vagabond.
Not the kind who experienced it during the day and returned to his comfortable apartment at night, but someone who truly lived as a homeless person. Starting from ten days ago.
Renly considered himself someone who could endure hardships. Not to mention the injuries he sustained during the filming of "Fast 5", which were far from the casual portrayal they seemed, or the torment he endured before filming "Buried", where both his mind and body were pushed to their limits. But only after experiencing it firsthand did he realize that he had been too naive.
In two lifetimes, Renly had never truly suffered. In his previous life, Ding Yanan's wings were sufficient to provide shelter from the storms. Life was not necessarily affluent, but it was far from a lack of food and warmth. In this life, it was even better, as the life of a fallen noble still equaled or even exceeded that of the middle class.
However, over the past ten days, Renly had truly wandered the streets, struggling even to find shelter from the rain, learning the rules of the street at great risk.
Renly still vividly remembered the first day he experienced life as a vagabond. That night, he had no experience, didn't know where to sleep, and didn't know where to find warmth. After nightfall, Renly realized, to his astonishment, how cold a New York summer could be, cold enough to make him shiver uncontrollably.
In the end, he chose Central Park, which seemed like the right choice for a homeless person to spend the night. He found a bench, lay down in his clothes, closed his eyes, and tried to summon sleep. But it wasn't easy.
Because he hadn't bathed, lying there all dirty and sticky, that uncomfortable sensation of stickiness, dampness, and coldness made every inch of his skin uncomfortable. Even on the first day, under the psychological influence, he still felt itching all over.
Moreover, the benches in Central Park were far from being five-star hotel beds. The hard wooden slats aside, the open sides were bearable. The real issue was that people passed by constantly, making all sorts of strange noises, and the ever-present sense of danger never dissipated. Renly simply couldn't get any rest, tossing and turning, unable to even close his eyes.
His entire being was in a state of heightened tension, but worse was yet to come. With just a slight squint, he was first driven away by fellow vagabonds because he had occupied someone else's territory. Then, he found himself being chased by the police, running for most of the night. Finally, he located an empty bench by the roadside, still shaken, and waited for the sunrise.
As he sat there, he inadvertently started to doze off, only to be awakened by the cold. He gazed into the endless darkness surrounding him, mustering his spirits again. But soon, his body began to alternate between shivering from the cold and breaking into a sweat. Occasionally, as he watched passersby, he had to remain alert, and he could vaguely see the drunken figures lurking around the street corners, seemingly searching for an opportunity to strike.
This scene brought to mind the era of Jack the Ripper.
What was worse, he hadn't eaten anything all afternoon, and his stomach was now protesting with loud rumbles. Earlier, he had been concerned about the issue of bathing, but now it was clear that food and warmth were the immediate priorities.
That night, he sat on that bench, quietly awaiting the sunrise. It was only when the sun appeared that the ominous vibes seemed to dissipate like a receding tide.
However, compared to the challenges in the Bronx, the previous hardships could be considered a mere drizzle. At this moment, Renly could confidently crouch at a street corner, observing everything around him. This was all part of his training in the art of street survival. Otherwise, that young girl might have confronted him directly, making him taste the bitterness of a street brawl.
Not only that, he had also become a qualified vagabond.
Every morning, after waking up, he had to find a place to brush his teeth. The sprinklers on Central Park's lawns and the subway station's restroom were good choices. Then, he would head to a relief station to collect food, which consisted of canned goods, homemade sandwiches, or soon-to-expire supermarket items. Despite this, he had to be cautious, as he could easily get kicked out of line by unruly individuals or have his food stolen by starving vagabonds.
Nights were always challenging. Under the bridges, the gathering place for vagabonds, was a good option as there were campfires, and there were plenty of "companions". However, the downsides were apparent. Here, might made right, and adhering to the principle of "never revealing one's wealth" was not always enough to survive. Sometimes, it was just a matter of looking in the wrong direction, which could lead to disputes. It was like the law of the jungle, survival of the fittest. Surviving here was no easy feat.
Of course, some were more cunning, avoiding the watchful eyes of the police, lying down in subway stations or hidden spots in Central Park. They could often enjoy a peaceful sleep, and some even slept directly on the subway as long as they could dodge the staff's inspection before closing time. It not only provided shelter from the wind and rain but was also relatively warm.
The most perfect place was McDonald's. However, that was prime real estate, and arriving too early meant being rushed by staff due to a large number of customers, while arriving too late meant all the seats would be taken. As long as he secured a spot at McDonald's, the night would be as good as it could get.
If only that were all there was to street survival. But in the Bronx, these were just the basic rules of survival. After nightfall, the most important thing was how to avoid the areas where drug dealers conducted their transactions, steer clear of the territories where gangs settled "private matters", and navigate the sensitive areas where rival factions crossed paths. Because one wrong move, and he might not see the sun rise tomorrow.