In one glance, Steven noticed Anson's handling of eye contact in the scene—he was observing.
It was a two-step process. First, he observed the FBI agent's attire and actions. Then, he scanned the entire area. Although his gaze briefly met the camera, it wasn't a mistake—in fact, Steven found it intriguing.
From the overall perspective, Frank Jr. was assessing the situation, evaluating the number of FBI agents, whether he was surrounded, and the urgency of the situation. Like a fox, he quickly took in the scene with a single glance.
This one observational look revealed Frank Jr.'s cunning and experience.
But if that was all there was to it, it would be excellent, but not exceptional.
The key was in that brief moment when Frank Jr. made eye contact with the camera.
In the context of the scene, Frank Jr. was surveying the situation, and his eyes inadvertently crossed paths with the lens. It seemed normal—none of the crew or the cameraman noticed anything unusual.
But imagine when the film is released, and the audience's gaze inadvertently meets that of the protagonist. A sense of voyeurism is instantly created, as if they were secretly watching this chase unfold. The tension between Frank Jr. and Carl in their cat-and-mouse game would then escalate sharply.
Brilliant.
A stroke of genius.
If the audience doesn't notice, they simply miss out on a moment that could enhance their viewing experience. But if they do catch it, the thrill doubles.
This is acting.
Perhaps after this sequence is finished, they should shoot a close-up to capture this fleeting detail.
Steven had to admit, Anson wasn't the type of actor he usually preferred—too uncontrollable, often veering off course, which could be disastrous for a director like Steven. But at the same time, he couldn't help but be curious about Anson's performance—
It was like a guilty pleasure.
Knowing full well that too much sugar and fat could be bad for his health, Steven still couldn't resist. After all, what's life without a bit of sweetness?
Secretly, Steven found it a bit thrilling.
Quietly... he was drawn into the scene.
In front of the camera, no one noticed anything unusual; the performance continued seamlessly.
As soon as Frank Jr. entered the scene, he quickly assessed the situation and his position. Despite trying his best to stay calm, it was clear he was still nervous—after all, he'd never been in such a situation before. His reaction was slightly over the top—
He was interrupting.
"That's the latest IBM electric typewriter…"
Carl remained on high alert, "Hands on your head!"
Frank Jr. tossed the towel aside and, mimicking the confident posture of a TV shopping channel host, advanced, forcing the tense FBI agent to retreat step by step. "It can change the print format in five seconds."
Carl barked, "Shut up!"
Frank Jr. added, "It's just a matter of highlighting a single character…"
He noticed—
The FBI agent was backing up.
Usually, an experienced detective would have taken control by now... right? He wasn't sure, but the agent's reaction gave him confidence. His panic and anxiety eased slightly, and his tone became more relaxed.
Tension—an underlying tension was building.
Viewers who are truly familiar with Tom Hanks would detect that his performance was slightly over the top, with his voice just a bit sharper, conveying a heightened sense of tension. It wasn't overacting, but it added a touch of nervous comedic humor.
Back and forth.
Advance and retreat.
The two characters on screen were like dancers engaged in a tense tango, probing and countering each other's moves.
The camera struggled to keep up with their rapid movements. One second, Tom was in the frame, and the next, as the action shifted counterclockwise, the focus switched to Anson, who became the primary viewpoint.
Both actors were spinning, and the cameraman was trying to follow their movements. However, the actors moved just a bit faster, creating a dizzying effect that heightened the tension and sense of chaos.
Then—
*Bang.*
A loud noise broke the standoff, making hearts skip a beat.
The FBI agent, who had been retreating continuously, had nowhere left to go and collided with the dining table. The room service from the previous night, ordered by Frank Jr., rattled precariously.
A moment of surprise.
The tension escalated further.
Carl barked, "Hands behind your head! Put your hands—"
Frank Jr. ignored him, continuing to move counterclockwise toward the desk—just beside the dining table.
Carl circled around again, finding himself back in front of the camera.
The entire world seemed to be spinning.
Frank Jr. said, "He's got over 200 checks, a gallon of India ink, and the sketches."
Carl, on the brink of losing control, shouted, "Hands! Hands! Raise your hands!"
This scene was fresh and dynamic.
From Anson and Tom's perspective, as well as from the perspective of the criminal and the agent, it was reminiscent of "Tom and Jerry," with the mouse playfully teasing the cat.
Frank Jr. was calm, steady, and unflustered. Despite his attempts to disrupt the FBI agent's rhythm, the chaos helped him regain his composure. His words became more relaxed, and his body language grew more expressive.
Carl was tense, anxious, and wary. Frank Jr.'s refusal to cooperate and constant interruptions prevented him from following through with his commands, forcing him to raise his voice until he was nearly shouting.
This scene, slightly discordant, still managed to produce an unexpectedly humorous effect.
Frank Jr. remained unfazed. His calm and collected demeanor made Carl look like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. He completely ignored the gun pointed at him. "Even the pay envelopes from Pan Am have his own address on them."
The details—here, the details could be seen again—
His fingers were trembling slightly.
Frank Jr. was feeling the pressure. He had been trying to change the subject and distract Carl, but the FBI agent, despite his lack of field experience, remained alert and followed protocol, leaving Frank Jr. no opportunity to exploit. He needed to turn the situation around.
He needed proof—proof of his identity.
With trembling fingers, he grabbed an envelope, showcasing a burst of energy that revealed his true skills in forgery. He then presented the envelope to the FBI agent.
The perfect lie lies in 90% truth, 10% falsehood.
However, Carl still wasn't buying it.
"Put it down!"
"Drop it!"
As Frank Jr.'s movements became more tense, Carl, fearing there might be a weapon inside the envelope, roared with fury, his nerves stretched to the breaking point, as if he might pull the trigger at any second.
What to do?
What to do, what to do, what to do?
Frank Jr. didn't panic; instead, he offered a warm smile.
"Relax!"
Like a lion tamer, Frank Jr. spread his hands to show he was unarmed. Then, he lowered them, gently waving them as if calming a velociraptor. His composure, which could put even a dinosaur handler to shame, regained control of the situation.
"Relax!"
Each command was louder than the last as Frank Jr. turned the tables and asserted dominance over Carl.
With a confident, unruffled smile, he maintained his charm and poise, disarming Carl with his easygoing demeanor.
"You're late."
"I'm Allen, Barry Allen, from the United States Secret Service. Your boy just tried to jump out the window, but my partner apprehended him."
Allen, Barry Allen—yes, the very same Barry Allen from "The Flash."