The few who agreed to watch

The main venue of the Film Palace is located in the southern part of Lido Island, with a good geographical location and convenient transportation.

Early in the morning, Lyman, René, and Thomas went to the rental shop and obtained a set of projection equipment. They immediately rushed to the screening location.

Lyman sat in the taxi and looked out through the window. He could see pedestrians walking leisurely along the roadside. Leisurely, relaxed, and orderly. That was his impression of this town.

The taxi continued to drive smoothly and soon arrived at the destination. The three of them got off the car, took the equipment from the trunk, and began to walk. They wanted to find a suitable location for the screening. Looking around, many people had already started on the open spaces on both sides of the Film Palace. They set up a screen and were showing their own open-air movies.

Lyman and the others continued walking and saw a black man in his thirties walking around on the side of the road, constantly saying something. As they approached, they realized that he was promoting his own movie. "Hey, buddy, do you want to appreciate my work? It's really good."

Indeed, some passersby stopped to watch under his persuasion, but most of them left after a while. The black man didn't mind and continued to promote his movie in his relatively standard English.

"Let's go and take a look." René seemed excited. It was unclear whether he was influenced by the environment or the courage of the black man. As he said that, he had already walked over.

When the black man saw Lyman and the others willing to watch his movie, he became extremely happy and exclaimed, "This is my movie! I directed it!"

René listened quietly and suddenly asked, "Can you make money from your movie?"

Although the black man was a bit puzzled, he still smiled and said, "Hey, buddy, I spent two years making this movie. I endured hardships and hardships all the way from Dire Dawa to here. But all of that doesn't matter. What matters is that I screened my movie at the Venice Film Festival, and many people watched it! God! This has always been my wish, and it actually came true. As for making money? I never thought about it."

Lyman listened silently, speechless. If a movie couldn't generate profits, how could one continue to pursue their beloved career? Relying on passion to generate electricity and food? Don't joke around. Anyway, he couldn't understand the thinking of these movie enthusiasts who were so passionate about films.

"Oh, man! You must have lost a lot of money coming from your hometown to here," René clearly didn't agree with the black man's viewpoint. He continued, "You must be quite wealthy to be able to afford such extravagant expenses." Only someone with money could afford such lavish wastage, Lyman silently added in his mind.

"All of that doesn't matter..." The black man was about to start explaining his creative experience when Lyman gave a signal, and the three of them slipped away. The movie made by this black man didn't even have a coherent storyline. It was just one shot after another, like watching a personal scenic film. It was really boring.

Continuing forward, they arrived behind the main entrance of the Film Palace venue. There was an intersection here, with one road leading to the venue and another to the exit. There was a constant flow of people, making it suitable for screening movies.

"Let's set up here." Once the decision was made, the three of them began to adjust the projection equipment. Following the instructions given by the shop, they raised a screen to project the images. Then, they took out the film copy from their backpack and inserted it into the machine. Everything was ready.

"Let's give it a try." René confidently pressed the switch, and their movie, "Buried", began to play. This was the nth time the three of them had watched this long-awaited movie, but it was the first time they were appreciating it in front of a large audience.

Just seeing Heath Ledger's panicked expression made Lyman feel a bit dazed. Subconsciously, he looked around and then smiled bitterly. Apart from him, René, and Thomas, there was not a single audience member.

The movie continued playing, and René clearly noticed this problem too. After thinking for a moment, he said, "I'll go to the intersection and try to bring people over. That trick seems quite good."

"I'll go too," Thomas volunteered.

"Okay, the two of us will go. Lyman, you stay here and take care of the equipment and film copy." Seeing Lyman nodding, René and Thomas headed towards the intersection they had just passed. It wasn't far from this screening spot, probably about 15 meters away.

Lyman watched as their mouths moved, and they gestured towards potential viewers passing by. Before long, an older man deviated from the road and walked towards Lyman across the lawn. It took less than three minutes from the time they left until the first audience member showed interest. This method was indeed effective.

The older man stopped and watched. At this point, the screen had already reached the scene where Paul began to bang on the coffin, seeking help.

In the movie, Heath Ledger's character struggled inside the coffin, and the camera circled around him from left to right, giving the audience a direct and clear view of the environment inside the coffin. Narrow and dimly lit, followed by a few quick close-up shots focusing on the wound on Heath Ledger's forehead, which was still vividly visible. The older man instinctively hugged his arms to ease his anxiety. He thought about how he would escape if he were trapped in a coffin.

After a while, a few young girls arrived. Judging by their chattering, they seemed to be together. At least they were chatting.

"That tall guy from earlier is so handsome, right?"

"Oh my gosh, do you think so too? I thought I was the only one..."

"Do you think he directed this movie?"

Well, well, they were attracted by René's good looks. Lyman couldn't help but look at him, only to see René's mouth moving and his face wearing a genuine smile, resembling a whatchamacallit... ah yeah, a gigolo, Lyman thought to himself.

...

Andreas couldn't help but feel annoyed. Since he arrived, the movie had entered a fast-paced sequence of scenes, but he kept hearing irrelevant background noises that made it difficult to hear the dialogue in the film. If these people continued to make noise, they would definitely miss some important plot points. Nervousness, worry, and anticipation mixed together. He clenched his fist and then relaxed it, but in the end, he couldn't hold back and shouted, "Stop making noise!" He turned to the girls beside him and said that.

Just after he finished speaking, he felt a bit regretful. His tone seemed a bit strong. The older man silently turned his head back and continued watching the movie, pretending as if nothing had happened. The girls were startled, but their good upbringing made them realize it was their fault. They stopped chatting and making noise, and they didn't choose to leave. Instead, they stood together and enjoyed the movie.

The older man became even more uncomfortable. Usually, he would just complain in his mind about such minor noises and wouldn't impulsively shout like this. But the sound in this movie needed careful listening in order to understand it clearly. The fact that the screening area was right next to a busy intersection with many pedestrians passing by, combined with the poor sound quality of the projector's speakers, made it necessary to concentrate in order to comprehend the visual scenes in the movie. The lines of the protagonist making phone calls were crucial in driving the background of the story. If they couldn't hear them clearly, how could they understand?

The nearby noise at this moment was truly torturous, and it was no wonder the older man ended up shouting a warning at a group of girls.

On the screen, the man trapped in the coffin started dialing 911 for help. The call connected, and a female operator's voice came through.

"I'm buried," the man said with deep breaths, stuttering, "You have to help me, I can't

breathe..."

"Sir?" The operator seemed confused.

"I'm buried in a coffin. Please help me! Send someone to find me!" The man held the phone tightly with his right hand while holding a lighter in his left hand, his gaze shifting restlessly, fixed on the flickering flame.

"Sir, slow down. What is your name? "

"Paul. Paul Conroy."

"Okay, Mister Conroy. Can you tell me your location?"

"I don't know." His voice was hoarse and terrifying. "I'm in a coffin. I don't know where. I'm scared. Please help me. "

"You're in a coffin?"

"Yeah!" Paul felt like he was running out of breath as if an invisible hand was strangling his throat. The suffocating feeling made his face turn red. "It's... like, one of those old,

wooden ones."

"Are you at a funeral home?"

"No!" Paul quickly denied, "I don't know, I'm trapped underground. Please send rescue already!"

"How did you end up in the coffin, sir? " The operator continued to ask calmly.

"I was driving in Afghanistan, and suddenly the road exploded. Then... then I woke up in a coffin." His eyes also showed confusion.

"Why were you attacked?"

"Why do you keep asking so many questions? I'm going to die. Please come and save me... Stop asking, I beg you, find someone to save me." The operator was wasting his time endlessly, which made the man even more furious. "I'm somewhere in Afghanistan, just find someone to save me!"

"Are you a soldier?" The operator asked calmly again, seemingly unaffected by the man's anger.

Suddenly, the man laughed bitterly, a sense of inexplicable desolation lingering in his heart, becoming a huge irony. "I'm not a soldier, I'm... a truck driver, an

American. I work for CRT." He took deep breaths, unable to form a coherent sentence. He knew that the oxygen was becoming scarcer.

The operator helplessly said, "You said you're buried alive underground in Afghanistan. But how can we find you in such a short time?"

Is she asking me for a solution? The man thought dazedly.

"Aren't there American troops stationed there? Inform them to come and find me. I'm really going to die. Please, save me... Save me!"

The operator's words interrupted the man's endless pleas for help. "Mister Conroy, this is 911

emergency in Youngstown, Ohio. I'm not sure exactly how you called here if you're in another country, but if you'd like, I can patch you through to the Sheriff's Department. "

"No...you don't underst... ah, forget it." The man hung up the phone.