C 21

The elevator fell quickly, and the female passenger inside screamed in horror, probably triggered by the continuous flashing images. In the theater, a young woman's exclamation echoed through the room.

Sitting with his mother in another theater in Los Angeles, Luke remained calm. He had cut out many transitional scenes from the film. For example, after the initial murder, the film switched to a group of people laughing and walking into the elevator.

Yes, the rhythm—what he wanted was a continuously fast pace, leaving the audience no chance to relax. Even a few transitional scenes were skipped.

There was also the exaggerated introduction of Jack's car, with a distinct 80s Hollywood style. Luke had no hesitation in changing it to a smooth tail parking scene after the car sped in.

There's nothing surprising about the usual tropes—saving people, finding the bomber, Harry getting shot, and the first large explosion. They were just the basic Hollywood formula. The difference here was that these scenes occurred in the confined space of an elevator, with the narrow environment and ticking clock creating a sense of oppressive urgency for the audience.

On the other side of Leah, since the moment the elevator started descending, a female audience member had been pressing her hands to her chest, her rapid breathing betraying her nerves.

Nervous and breathless...

That was the dominant feeling Cunitis experienced during the start of the film. In just twenty minutes, he understood why Jones had praised it so highly. The opening sequence alone was worth the $5 ticket price.

"Boom..."

The explosion, which seemed like it could blow up the entire building, was the perfect conclusion to the film's opening.

"Huh...huh..."

Around him, his companions were breathing rapidly, as if they'd forgotten to breathe for those entire twenty minutes. One middle-aged man in his 30s even took off his jacket. His labored breathing sounded like a Texas bull in full sprint.

After taking several deep breaths, Johnson's chest began to calm. As a movie fan of over a decade, this was the most thrilling opening sequence he'd seen in the 1990s, except perhaps for "Terminator 2."

In sheer excitement, this beginning didn't quite surpass "Terminator 2," but in terms of thrills, it was at least on par with James Cameron's masterpiece.

The film transitioned to a calmer scene, where the mayor of Los Angeles awarded honors to Jack and Harry. Johnson's nerves finally started to settle, and he reached for his Coke. He assumed the movie would now enter a more relaxed, buffer period.

However, just as Johnson raised the straw to his mouth, the picture shifted. The bomber appeared, sitting in front of the TV, clapping for Jack. The camera cut back and forth between them, using straightforward visual cues to hint that there was more tension to come.

"He wouldn't be stupid enough to try fighting Jack one-on-one, would he?" the only female companion asked Jones. "If the plot goes that way, it's going to be too clichéd. It'll just be like any other muscle-flexing movie. Keanu Reeves is handsome, sure, but he's not exactly a muscle-bound action hero, right?"

"This isn't a traditional action movie," Jones replied casually, motioning for her to keep watching. "The duel is about to begin!"

Although there were some murmurs behind him, Johnson wasn't distracted. When the bomber appeared again, his nerves tightened. The plot moved swiftly. Jack, on vacation, left a coffee shop, casually greeting a middle-aged man who then boarded a bus. But soon after...

An explosion—earth-shattering in scale—consumed the screen. The flames surged outward, giving the audience the illusion of an explosion happening right in front of them. The roof of the bus flew off, smashing a nearby car into scrap metal, while shattered glass rained down in the firelight, creating a dazzling glass explosion.

Though there was little doubt that no one inside the car survived, Johnson overheard murmurs of admiration nearby.

"The way this director shoots explosions is incredible."

"He must have special experience with this kind of scene."

"The explosion looked like it happened right in front of you. How did they film that?"

Johnson's breathing grew rapid again. He wasn't sure when he'd started, but his mouth had dropped open, and he felt a thin layer of sweat forming. This explosion had even outdone the nuclear scene in "Terminator 2"!

The plot moved at a blistering pace, like a wheel spun by Jack's actions. A bomb had been planted on a tourist bus by the bomber, set to detonate if the bus dropped below fifty miles per hour or if anyone attempted to leave. The bomber was forcing Jack, who had disrupted his earlier plan, to join a life-or-death race against time.

The film soon revealed the bomber's backstory—he was once a bomb disposal expert in another state's police department. After being injured and forced into retirement, he was denied his pension, leading him down the path of madness.

Johnson felt a twinge of sympathy for the bomber. He wasn't inherently evil; circumstances had driven him to this point. This made him more complex and real than the typical one-dimensional villains in most action films.

The bomber spoke little, looked like an ordinary retired man, but the occasional flashes of fierce madness made him terrifying. He seemed rational most of the time, but whenever things didn't go his way, his inner darkness erupted. Close-ups of his face, framed by the camera, captured this madness perfectly.

In Johnson's mind, the bomber felt more real than Jack, who seemed permanently stern.

By the way, Johnson noticed the credits had revealed that the same person was both the writer and director. This villain had been crafted exceptionally well.

"Everyone's misfortune is the federal government's fault?" Leah whispered to Luke in another theater. Luke shrugged. "Washington will always be the villain in Hollywood movies."

In the film, under the guise of political correctness, the federal government was the scapegoat. The bomber's misfortune? The government's fault. Homelessness? The government's fault. No pension? The government again.

At this moment, a quiet complaint came from a Black audience member sitting in front. "It's the white man saving the world again!"

Indeed, the bus driver had been Black at first but was quickly replaced by the white heroine after he was injured. Jack, of course, was the white cop hero, while the bus passengers were a diverse mix of Asians, Latinos, and Black people.

Luke had paid close attention to these dynamics during filming. Despite cutting some transitional scenes, he made sure to use models in big set pieces, and added Naomi Watts in a small, almost cameo-like role, but the makeup of who was saved and who saved remained unchanged.

The distribution of passengers on the bus was, in a sense, a reflection of North American society.

"Wow, cool!"

Another exclamation rang through the theater, followed by enthusiastic applause. Leah lost count of how many times this had happened. Although the theater wasn't packed, the audience frequently cheered the film and those who had created it.

A proud smile began to form on her usually calm face. It was the pride of a mother watching her son succeed. She was starting to believe Luke might become her greatest pride.

"The director's name is Luke Rosenberg!" Jones said, reminding his companions. "This young guy is a phenomenal director! His explosions are unparalleled. Even when the plot doesn't need an explosion, he finds a way to make something blow up!"

In a scene they had just watched, the bus collided with a car hauling buckets of water. The water splashed everywhere, like the Caribbean Sea caught in a hurricane. It was an explosion of water instead of fire.

The rolling wheels, the speedometer hovering above fifty, the various crashes and chaos caused by the speeding bus—all of it had the audience on the edge of their seats. They cheered, applauded, and even spilled popcorn in their excitement. Nothing mattered to them except the film.

Just "Speed."

And the movie didn't let them down. The intense, high-paced plot intertwined with thrilling scenes. The relentless speed and tension left the audience breathless. Life-and-death decisions had to be made on the move—wasn't that thrilling enough?

"This is definitely a rare, top-tier action movie," Johnson thought to himself. Even though the film was far from over, as an experienced moviegoer, he already knew his verdict. There were few direct confrontations between hero and villain. It was all about outsmarting each other, using the bus as the battleground. This wasn't a traditional action movie, but a unique and exhilarating one. The fast pace, brilliant images, and stunning visuals overshadowed any flaws in the story.

Johnson had no doubt that this young director's storytelling, while imperfect, was more than made up for by the film's energetic tempo and exciting sequences.

Another explosion shook the theater. A whole house was blown to pieces. Although Jack's partner died in the blast, Johnson couldn't help but feel exhilarated by the explosion. His adrenaline surged, making him feel alive.