Great Actor in Hollywood

Does such a thing as 'natural talent', the proud parent showing Freddy's report card to her friends like it's the newest kitchen marble countertop, exist inside the world of film? I used to think it didn't. Now l know it does. It's a tale as old as film: the freckled, acne-riddled kid hops a Greyhound to Hollywood because his drama teacher said, "You're special," but his mom still tells him to put the toilet seat down. There was hundred percent talent everywhere, but when it comes to directorial ability, Rian was one of the best he worked with. 

Rian orchestrated the set with a calm, assured hand. The crew had just one week to shoot in New Orleans' Central Business District, but under his direction, the chaos felt somewhat choreographed. 

"Do l look like Bruce?" Ryan said. 

"Yeah. How are the contacts?"

"It feels a bit different. Is that the car?" 

"Yeah." 

"It's really red." 

"Quick scene", the director said.

"Okay." 

"Go" 

Rian approached the grey-covered car and unveiled the red Miata. He touched the hood of the car to show its cleanliness. 

"Okay ready to drive it?" 

"Sure"

Next, Ryan waited for 30 minutes for the extras to get into place and the street to have that post apocalyptic feel. He sat on the side of the curb eating a yogurt when Paul Dano approached him. 

"Nice to see you" Ryan shook his colleague's hand.

"Yeah. We met in Sundance, in passing. At my film right?" 

"Yeah"

Both actors sat on the curb eating their own snacks. The air was humid and dry. He saw a yellow school bus in the middle of the road. The city, still recovering from Hurricane Katrina and grappling with a complicated but perfect contradiction: broken and vibrant. 

"You know l always wanted to do a film during that time" Ryan said. 

"Wanted? You got time." 

"How was it working in that heat? Which is worse?" Ryan joked 

"God. We shot that in a desert in Oregon. Dust storms, cold nights, harsh sun. You name it we went through it" 

"This should be pretty easy." 

"But it was fun. I mean looking back not—" 

"In the moment. I understand. My debut was in an air conditioned room on the 42nd floor of one of the largest buildings in New York. Who had it harder?" Ryan showed a full row of solid rows to Paul. 

Rian called out, "Are you ready?" 

Ryan drove the red car with a trailer behind him capturing his performance. It approached Seth (Paul Dano) who was yelling at a homeless person looking at his bike. 

"Thats funny. Because lm going to pick up your mother on this and going to take my blunderbuss—" 

"Hey, Seth". Joe said. Ryan looked effortlessly cool in that black leather jacket and slicked back hair. 

"Hey Joe"

"Thats new" Joe looked at the broken bike

"Thing won't start" 

"So you going to the Belle?" 

"Perfect." Rian called out. The director went to the street nearby and loaded up the camera on the trailer for the next scene 

"So you bought a slat bike?" Joe looked to his right to Seth fidgeting with his hands. 

"Yup" 

"How much that set you back" 

"I was going to pull it up with me tonight" He looked to his side mirror, avoiding eye contact. 

"Well, congratulations. You're pulling with me instead." 

"Dont. Don't do that. If we're going in, don't do that" 

Paul Dano had a quarter in his hand. It would levitate in post because in this sci-fi film people had lousy TK abilities. 

'How do special effects even work?' 

The car pulled up to a stripclub which had a spawn of extras dressed properly. The sun was setting down. There was a woman sitting on the curb smoking a cigarette wearing heavy makeup. The camera captured two bald bouncers letting people in like gatekeepers of death. 

The car rolled forward, cutting through rising heat waves. The woman on the curb didn't flinch. She exhaled smoke that curled like ribbon into the afternoon.

Take after take, they refined the scene. The extras adjusted their timing, the bouncers misfired their cues now and then. But Rian remained patient. There was something invisible guiding his decisions. Precision masked as ease. It felt like he was painting.

During a brief pause, Ryan watched the extras relax between takes. They snapped back into real life, laughing and sipping bottled water. Someone handed the cigarette-smoking actress a fresh bottle, and she smiled, dropped the spent cigarette, and ground it beneath her heel.

The assistant set decorator came by and repositioned a piece of graffiti, adjusting the distressed texture on a brick wall. A fake "LOST DOG" flyer fluttered beside a flickering streetlight

Back inside the car, Ryan wiped sweat from his brow. "It's like acting inside an oven. What is this leather jacket made of," he muttered.

Paul nodded. "I can't wait to film inside. And not for the reason you're thinking ." He laughed

"Oh l wasn't thinking about that. I'm a hundred percent a professional."

The camera rolled again.

They hit their marks. Seth opened the door. The bouncers moved aside. The club door swung open. A sudden burst of artificial club music filled the air.

"Cut!"

"That's the one," Rian declared.

People stretched, clapped, loosened shoulders. Someone yelled for water. The sun had now disappeared behind the skyline, giving way to a lavender color.

It was just another scene, another beat in the movie. But for a moment, it felt like they'd captured something more than just a take. It felt like time was suspended.

And just like that, they moved on.

Lights were packed. Cables coiled. Gear loaded into vans. The strip club's glow dimmed.

Night was coming. And they were getting ready.