Sam Raimi is observing Anson.
Sam's standards have always been simple. In his view, "Spider-Man" isn't a work that seeks to explore artistic philosophies or deep themes—it's a popcorn movie meant for relaxation and enjoyment. So, the actor's acting skills aren't the most critical factor; personal charisma is key.
He has always believed that, more than the content of the audition, the way an actor enters and leaves the room, and their natural behavior outside the audition, is what matters most. He looks to see how well they fit the character, what kind of chemistry they can bring, whether they are suited for the big screen, and whether they can spark something with his mental image of Peter Parker.
For this reason, Sam didn't read the actors' profiles. He didn't want to form any preconceptions about them. There was no need to make any judgments ahead of time; everything would be decided by the first encounter during the audition.
Because of this, Sam didn't like Scott.
It wasn't that Scott did anything wrong, but the impression he left earlier in the morning at the café was too strong. It ruined the mystery and formed a stereotype, making the audition itself devoid of sparks.
After the audition, Sam didn't remember much about Scott.
And now, it's the same.
The moment Anson opened the door, Sam started watching and assessing— the audition had already begun.
As soon as he entered, Anson took two steps forward, but then stopped, turned back, and put down the large backpack on his shoulder. From his movements, it was clear that besides the skateboard, there were probably many other heavy items inside.
Sam couldn't help but take an extra glance at the backpack. It was plain and unremarkable, but he still felt curious about what might be inside.
Still, Sam didn't speak right away.
Anson walked to the center of the room, and the producer, Ian Bryce, was the first to break the silence.
It was clear that Ian was eagerly anticipating Anson's turn. After waiting for so long, Anson had finally come in, and Ian's whole demeanor was enthusiastic. His slight forward lean gave it away.
The audition wasn't even really an audition—it was just casual chatting.
Name, age, hometown, weather.
A few relaxed questions, while Ian, with a probing gaze, continued to observe closely. Eventually, curiosity got the better of him, and he asked, "Do you have a strong prescription for your glasses?"
Anson smiled, "Oh, these glasses don't have any prescription."
Ian was momentarily taken aback, then realized it was part of the outfit. But why? He couldn't understand Anson's choice and asked, "Can you take them off?"
"Of course." Anson quickly removed the glasses.
"Oh! It's him!" Ian's eyes brightened instantly. He looked around at the others and exclaimed, "This is the young man I saw!"
Oh!
Not only Ian, but several others in the room let out quiet exclamations. It wasn't an overreaction, but Anson, with his striking blue eyes now visible, exuded a subtle shift in demeanor. The contrast was stunning.
In an instant—breathtaking.
There were seven people in charge of today's audition.
Sitting slightly off to the side and behind the others was someone from the actors' guild, likely an agent. They wouldn't participate in the discussion or audition but were there to oversee.
Besides Ian and Sam, there were four others—three men and one woman—though they didn't introduce themselves, each preoccupied with their own work.
Then, the woman spoke, "Most people try to highlight their charm, but you're doing the opposite. What's the reason for that?"
—This question, he could answer.
Here, Anson began to speak confidently, discussing his interpretation of Peter Parker and portraying the image of an ordinary high school student. He emphasized that Peter's psychological transformation as a superhero is the most interesting part and the key distinction from other superheroes.
As his speech flowed smoothly, without anyone noticing, Anson had taken control of the conversation.
The slightly chubby woman with golden glasses gave a meaningful look. "So, you're confident in your appearance, and you think you don't look like a high school student, which is why you need this disguise?"
A hint of sharpness in her tone.
Anson replied calmly, "I'm not here because I look like an ordinary high school student, right?"
With this rhetorical question, he cleverly answered without directly doing so.
Ian burst out laughing, "True, if you were just an ordinary high school student, you wouldn't have gotten a call for this audition."
As he spoke, Ian tilted his head toward the woman, "Next, you're not going to say, like Sam, that he's too handsome, are you? First, they're too handsome, then they're not handsome enough—it seems like these actors have it pretty tough."
Clearly, he was making a joke.
The woman remained unfazed, "The real issue is whether or not someone fits the role. If they don't, nothing about them feels right. But you're onto something. Sam? You've been unusually quiet this whole time. I mean, you're always quiet, but today it's especially so…"
All eyes turned toward Sam.
Unexpectedly, Sam spoke up without warning, "It's you!"
Everyone: ???
Anson: ???
Sam sat up straight, his usually sleepy eyes fully open for once, shining with a rare intensity. It was clear he was feeling something deeply.
He had been observing Anson the whole time, sensing a vague familiarity but unable to pinpoint it. Then, suddenly, it clicked.
Sam was excited.
"This morning, the café, you…"
But Sam stumbled over his words, not sure how to explain. Seeing Anson's confused expression only made him more anxious.
Unable to express himself in words, Sam decided to demonstrate with body language—
He lifted his right foot, stretched out his right hand, and used his left hand to make a lifting motion, his eyes wide as he looked at Anson, hoping to jog his memory.
Before Anson could respond, Ian leaned back in his chair, relaxing his left side in a lazy, sunbathing posture, and joked, "Sam, what are you doing? Performance art? Is this the rumba or the tango?"
Sam ignored Ian and kept looking at Anson.
Finally, Anson remembered, "The café? But, how did you know?"
Sam smiled, satisfied. "I was there too."
Anson suddenly realized what had happened.
Ian looked around, bewildered, "What are you two talking about? Care to share with the rest of us?"
Sam had already sat back down, showing no intention of explaining. The task now fell to Anson, with everyone's attention on him.
Anson smiled and gave a brief explanation, "This morning at a café, I lent a hand to a lady, just a small favor."
Hearing this, the slightly chubby woman didn't believe a word, "A small favor? A small favor wouldn't have Sam this worked up. I've been around Sam for a week, and that's the first time I've seen him react like that."
She laughed as she spoke.
What started as a joke became more serious when Sam, with an unusually serious expression, nodded gently and responded, "Indeed. Just like kung fu."
"I think it was a bit like Spider-Man. Maybe you should have Anson reenact the scene for us."
As soon as Sam said this, he froze—Spider-Man?
Thinking back on the incident at the café, Sam hadn't realized it at the time, but the scene had planted a seed in his mind, quickly growing into a full-blown idea.
And with that, another layer of inspiration for Spider-Man had emerged.
(End of chapter five update.)