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“Okay. I’m ready when you are.”
When everyone was in place, a hush fell over the set, and the assistant director said, “Roll camera…and action.”
I then learned exactly how many different ways there were to walk through a patio door.
For a solid hour, we did take after take, and as usual, Lang gave me minimal feedback. He’d say things like, “Give me more, Will,” inevitably followed by, “Not that much,” even though I was sure I’d made only the tiniest adjustment.
It was a relief when he called for a break. Lorenzo held my coat while I stuck my arms into the sleeves, and he asked, “Are you freezing?”
“Not really. The crew is basically acting as a wind break between me and the ocean. I’m sure it’ll be worse when I’m standing out in the field, assuming we ever actually make it past this first bit.”
Phoenix brought both Lorenzo and me cups of hot tea with lemon, and he smiled at me as he said, “You’re doing great, Will.”
I raised a brow and asked, “What are you basing that on?”
“I’ve been watching what you’re doing, and it’s terrific. Your character is obviously upset, but you’re not overdoing it.”
“Lang isn’t happy with it, though.”
“Sure he is,” Phoenix insisted. “Remember what I’ve always told you about him? He just loves to have a lot of takes to choose from.”
“But he let us get away with one take for that love scene.”
“That was a very rare exception, and now he’s gone back to his usual style of directing. Just keep doing what you’re doing.”
“Fucking up?”
Phoenix shook his head. “Keep giving him options. If he asks for forty takes, that doesn’t mean you finally ‘got it right’ on number forty and that’s what’ll make it into the movie. He might end up going back and using the first take, or the fifth, or the thirtieth. It just depends on what he sees in the dailies.”
“When you put it that way, I actually feel better about it,” I said.
We only did three more takes after the break, and then Lang nodded to the assistant director, who said, “We’re moving on to the next scene. Will, go ahead and take your dinner break. We’ll call you back after the crew has a break too and sets up the next shot.”
I invited Phoenix and Riley to join us in my trailer as I put on the slippers and coat, but they both declined. Phoenix grinned and said, “You two need a little private time.”
That made me turn to Lorenzo and ask, “What are you up to?”
“Nothing, really. I just made you some dinner, but don’t worry, it’s not a heavy four-course meal. I knew you wouldn’t want that tonight.”
He encouraged me to go lie down when we reached the trailer, probably because he wanted to surprise me with whatever he was making. I took off the coat and slippers again and joined my cat on the bed while Lorenzo got busy in the miniature kitchen.
A few minutes later, he appeared in the doorway holding a pair of red plastic trays and asked, “Want to eat back here? It looks pretty cozy.”
“Sure.” When he put one of the trays in front of me, my jaw dropped. He’d perfectly recreated the school lunch I’d told him about, with a tiny pizza, fruit cup, carrot sticks, and a chocolate chip cookie.
“I was going to serve it at lunchtime,” he explained, “but you were napping. Then I thought it might be a welcome distraction during filming, so I packed it up and brought it along.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “You just amaze me. No one else would think to do this for me, not in a million years. All I had to do was mention my favorite lunch as a kid, and here it is. You even found the little cafeteria trays.”
“I got lucky with those. The guy who runs craft services had a stack of them stashed away, from when he catered a movie with a lot of kids on set.”
“This is just so special. In fact, I should get a picture.”
I ran off to find my phone, and after I returned and snapped a few photos, Lorenzo told me, “You might want to eat the pizza before it gets cold.”
I grinned at him as I sat back down. “That just makes it more authentic. If you’re really going for accuracy, you should freeze and thaw it about six times, then forget about it on a shelf for a few days.”
“I thought this was your favorite lunch. That sounds disgusting.”
I picked up the pizza and said, “I was a dumb little eight-year-old who thought the best breakfast ever was day-old bottom-of-the-bag French fries. This meal was gourmet perfection in my world.” I took a bite of pizza, then said, “Oh see, you blew it. This is way too delicious.”
