制霸好莱坞

Jenny wasn't sure if Dave's friend was sitting behind the audition table, but there were four members hosting the audition. They all looked serious, seemingly weary from dealing with unprofessional applicants. A woman sitting in the center glanced at Jenny's résumé and showed an obvious look of disapproval.

"Who put her on the list?" she asked, making no effort to lower her voice. Jenny wasn't offended—she knew her qualifications weren't strong.

A middle-aged man who bore some resemblance to Dave—likely his friend, Jenny guessed—spoke up. "Jenny, can you introduce yourself?"

Jenny provided a brief introduction. The man then asked her to smile at the camera and make a few facial expressions.

Watching films, many people might think acting isn't that impressive. Even the greatest actors aren't flawless, just like how people criticize professional athletes and believe they could do better. Television has a way of making things look easy. Even physically demanding sports seem effortless when broadcasted, let alone simply delivering lines in front of a camera.

But, of course, almost everything is easier said than done. Even just smiling naturally in front of a camera takes time to master. It requires a person to expose themselves before a cold lens and the scrutinizing gazes behind it. Acting demands immense confidence and courage.

A timid person can never truly appear natural in front of an audience. The camera magnifies every flaw—expressions that might go unnoticed in real life become glaringly obvious on screen. If someone is merely "a little introverted" in reality, they might come across as "awkward, shy, and stiff" on film. If Jenny had still been that naive country girl chasing a dream, she would have failed this audition miserably, even with Dave's support.

Many great actors have suffered through countless disastrous auditions early in their careers. It's only through repeated auditions, failures, and more auditions that truly talented actors develop confidence and an instinct for the camera—something no amount of formal training can replace.

Chen Zhen had gone through years of acting training, enduring countless exercises where she had to cry, laugh, or throw tantrums in front of an audience. These drills were meant to break down her natural self-consciousness—while normal people strive to maintain composure, actors must learn to let go, to fully immerse themselves in their roles.

Still, despite all that training, when she first stepped onto a real set—surrounded by massive cameras and hundreds of crew members—Chen Zhen had been overwhelmed with fear. She had felt an urgent need to use the restroom, forcing her to pause the simulation, relieve herself, and then return to try again.

However, her three months as a waitress had been invaluable. Not only had she slimmed down to a size 2—her ideal on-camera figure—but she had also simulated over thirty different film sets. In just three months, she had experienced what a second-tier actor might take five or six years to accumulate.

And not just any sets—big-budget productions, each with hundreds of people. With that kind of training, how could she possibly be intimidated by a mere audition?

She effortlessly performed a series of expressions, locking eyes with the camera as if looking directly at the audience beyond it. Yet, she also remained detached, as though she wasn't even aware of the camera's presence. She smiled, frowned, expressed frustration—nothing about her performance felt artificial. There was no sign of self-consciousness, no awkwardness that often plagues amateurs.

A brief silence followed from the audition panel before the female judge handed her a script. "Read this dialogue."

Delivering lines is a fundamental skill for actors. Words must be enunciated clearly, and the tone must be natural. In everyday speech, people often speak too quickly, mumble, or let their emotions fluctuate inconsistently. This is normal in human communication—spoken words are just one part of how people exchange information. Body language, eye contact, and micro-expressions also play significant roles.

However, on camera, flaws are amplified while strengths are downplayed. If an actor speaks the way they normally do, their words might sound incomprehensible on film.

Fortunately, Jenny had received extensive training in this. Even though she hadn't originally learned English, muscle memory from her pronunciation drills remained. The role she was auditioning for was American, and Jenny spoke standard northern American English—thankfully, despite moving between countless foster homes, she hadn't picked up any unusual regional accents.

But that wasn't the only reason she was confident.

She took the script, sat down, and inhaled deeply, briefly closing her eyes—just a momentary adjustment, taking less than five seconds. It was too short a pause for anyone to criticize.

Yet, in that brief instant, she accessed her performance simulation space and selected a film, immersing herself in a character's emotions.

Time within the simulation moved at a different pace—fifteen seconds inside for every five seconds outside. That was enough for her to absorb the character's lifetime of experiences, to truly become this complex and worldly woman.

Then, in an instant, she exited the simulation. The emotional residue remained, but for the people in the room, only a few seconds had passed.

Jenny glanced at the script for two seconds before setting it aside.

Her voice changed—it was no longer the sweet and youthful tone from earlier. It became husky, filled with irony, as if she had seen through the world and held it all within her grasp.

Casually, she said, "Oh, I do hope you didn't ruin my wardrobe. You know, haute couture is like a mistress—it requires the utmost care."

She skipped over her unseen partner's lines and continued, "Yes, official business. I understand, officer. Go ahead. I'm not one of those celebrities who think a bit of fame entitles them to special treatment—who throw tantrums at respectable public servants."

Her smirk widened. She turned toward an empty space behind her and said, "Although, I highly doubt that any murder evidence would be found in my lingerie. But you're just doing your job, aren't you?"

"Cut," the female judge said, watching Jenny with a strange expression. "That's enough."

Jenny forced herself to detach from the role, clearing her throat and adjusting her expression back to her usual self. She stood and said, "Thank you for the opportunity."

"Yeah," Dave's friend stared at her. "Don't leave yet. Wait outside."

No one objected.

Jenny knew she had gotten the role.

It wasn't a surprise—this was exactly what she had planned.

This role was practically tailored for her. As for playing a glamorous movie star, even second-tier actors couldn't compete with her.

She had the beauty. As for the "movie star" part… well, while her performance simulation couldn't directly copy legendary actors' techniques, it didn't mean she couldn't find a way around it.

She had studied My Week with Marilyn and The Secret Life of Marilyn Monroe. When she received the audition notice, she had experimented with simulations of those films, absorbing what she suspected to be Marilyn Monroe's own emotional memories.

Simulating a legendary star to audition for a TV role—honestly, it felt like overkill. If Monroe knew, she might even be offended.

But for Jenny, this was an opportunity she couldn't afford to miss. She had to go all in—there was no room for hesitation.

An hour later, the female judge approached her. "You got the role."

"My name is Emma Swan," she introduced herself. She seemed much friendlier now, and Jenny realized she was actually quite young—probably not even thirty. She smiled and added, "I look forward to seeing your performance again. To be honest, it was because of you that I pushed for this decision… my colleagues were hesitant due to your résumé."

Jenny immediately recognized what was happening—Emma Swan was extending an olive branch, signaling her support.

Emma believed in her.