The Best Movie Actor In Hollywood!-Chapter 8

Ridley Scott was the epitome of a professional, and his assessment was just as direct: "He knows how to use his voice and his body."
His words were delivered with a professional's objectivity. "But the performance is superficial, far from ideal."
Helen nodded, hanging on his every word.
"Still," Ridley Scott added, "I can't say I can judge his acting with certainty from just one scene."
Unlike the extras, who had to find their own places to rest, Matthew, the undisputed star of the scene, was seated in a comfortable high-backed chair. A makeup artist and an assistant director stood before him, carefully examining the freshly formed creases on his face to check for any potential issues with his makeup.
It was, without a doubt, the most comfortable break Matthew had enjoyed during his entire time on the production.
In the temporary rest area designated for actors, special snacks were laid out for him to "refuel," along with drinks to quench his thirst. The production team had even assigned him a temporary assistant to handle any other matters off-set.
Of course, this treatment was limited to his featured scenes. Once his part was done, all these privileges would vanish.
"I wonder how they treat Russell Crowe," Matthew mused, his mind wandering freely, like a peasant idly imagining the king's golden carriage out of sheer boredom.
After a short wait, the temporary assistant approached and informed him it was time to prepare for the next scene.
The next scene would be an action sequence, but Matthew was the only real actor involved, with the camera focused tightly on him.
For action scenes like this, productions either used stunt doubles or required the actors to undergo a period of professional training.
When Matthew arrived at the center of the set, a group of extras dressed as Roman soldiers and barbarians were already in position, lying on the ground to serve as a backdrop for the shot.
The assistant director who had spoken to Matthew earlier came over to give him some final instructions. "Don't move more than a meter from side to side."
"And another thing—have you ever swung a sledgehammer?" he asked. "Swing this war hammer like you're in a real fight."
Matthew nodded.
Before filming began, he had learned from the director that the action scenes in "Gladiator" were meant to be realistic and strength-based, not the flashy style so common in Hollywood today. After all, he was playing a barbarian—what kind of finesse would he have?
He knew nothing about kung fu or sword fighting techniques, but he had been in plenty of street fights and was quite skilled with a hammer—he had worked in construction and swung one often enough.
After the assistant director left, a makeup artist came over to check that Matthew's makeup was still perfect before clearing the set.
Just before the cameras rolled, Matthew glanced around. Only a single camera was being used for the shot, positioned directly in front of him.
Filming began shortly after. Hearing the call from the set manager, Matthew swung his war hammer as if he were taking horizontal swings at a series of concrete pillars, one to his left, another to his right. The prop hammer was made of resin and weighed only five or six pounds, but in his hands, it felt like a real weapon, whistling through the air as it crashed down on invisible enemies.
There were no "opponents" around him, so Matthew could only strike at the air. After four or five swings, his tense expression began to soften slightly.
"Cut!" Ridley Scott shouted, halting the take. He roared at Matthew, "You're fighting Roman soldiers, not mannequins! Your expression needs to be ferocious, savage!"
Matthew froze, catching his breath as Ridley Scott yelled, "Reset for another take!"
The rest of the shoot was anything but smooth. The acting seemed simple enough, but performing for a close-up scene like this was far from easy.
There were six more stops, all of them caused by Matthew, except for one instance where the camera operator had a problem with the zoom.
"Ten-minute break."
Fortunately, Ridley Scott was only a little impatient and didn't lose his temper.
But the extras who had gotten up from the ground glared at Matthew with resentment. The ones playing barbarian soldiers were already jealous that he had landed such an opportunity, and now, because of his mistakes, they had been forced to lie on the damp ground for far too long. It was hardly surprising they didn't see him in a favorable light.
Ignoring them, Matthew returned to the rest area and sat down in his chair, unsure how to adjust his performance.
"Water?" the temporary assistant asked.
"No," Matthew replied, not wanting to be arrogant. He spoke politely, "But thank you for the offer."
The makeup artist approached. "I need to touch up your makeup."
Matthew nodded, being very agreeable with the makeup artist, who, despite his flamboyant appearance, acted professionally.
He wasn't fond of effeminate men; you could even say he couldn't stand them.
Couldn't stand them? Suddenly, an idea sparked in Matthew's mind.
He seized the inspiration, and it quickly spread through his thoughts.
The problem with his previous takes was that his close-up lacked the genuine, cornered ruthlessness of a man on the brink of death.
That feeling was subjective, much like acting itself was for Matthew, and it was difficult to grasp.
When the next take began, could he imagine the air around him as the boss who had refused to pay his wages, or the person who had framed him and thrown him in jail?
After thinking for a moment, Matthew decided it was a solid plan. He couldn't think of any other way.
Ten minutes passed in a flash. After the temporary assistant came to get him, Matthew was once again standing in the middle of the prone extras.
This time, unlike before, he summoned all his negative energy and stared forward as if the boss who had cheated him out of his salary was standing right in front of him.
"Action!"
Hearing the call, Matthew swung his war hammer, lashing out with an expression of pure hatred.
Swoosh-swoosh.
The sound of the hammer slicing through the air continued as Matthew's expression grew more and more ferocious, as if he couldn't wait to crush someone's skull.
"Huh?" Behind the director's monitor, Ridley Scott watched the close-ups relayed by the camera. His white eyebrows shot up. Matthew's performance on the monitor was drastically different from what he had filmed before.
It wasn't that the results were now magnificent, but they were so much better than the last attempts that, at the very least, they were more than acceptable for a minor role in a commercial film like this.
How could someone improve their performance so much in such a short time? Ridley Scott had seen a lot in his career, but this made him more than a little curious.
But that curiosity would soon fade. He was just a bit player; the director wouldn't pay him much mind. Now, if he were to achieve fame and success, that would be a different story.
A short distance from the set, Helen stood with her arms crossed, her assistant Amanda beside her.
"Director Scott hasn't called 'cut' yet," Amanda noted unexpectedly.
Helen shifted her scrutinizing gaze from Matthew and asked, "I asked you to run a background check on him yesterday. Did he have any professional training?"
It was something she couldn't recall.
Amanda answered with certainty, "No."
"This kid..." Helen's eyebrows arched in what looked like boundless astonishment. "It seems he has the real potential to be a star."
She made a decision. "Amanda, prepare a long-term contract when we get back to Los Angeles."
...
In the woods, far enough not to interfere with the shoot, a few men—the bald one, the tall one, and Michael—were also watching the scene unfold.
"No wonder he got a role like this," the bald man said, shaking his head. "Look at him, look at that crazy performance. Does a normal person act like that?"
The tall man slapped his own head. "He did well in both scenes. You have to have the skills to get an opportunity like this."
He looked over at Michael. "You said you're friends with him?"
Michael managed a smile. He had thought he was Matthew's friend and could only agree at this point. "Yes."
The bald man slapped his thigh, stood up, and declared, "Looks like this guy is really breaking out of our league. With his performance today, he should have no problem becoming a full-fledged actor."
Michael let out a dry laugh just as Ridley Scott's voice boomed through the loudspeaker: "Cut!"
He muttered to himself, "Great, another mistake."
"You did well. We're done. Stop swinging that hammer before you hit someone."
But the director's next words made him freeze on the spot.
Elsewhere, the British actor with the round shield was glaring daggers at Matthew, desperately trying to kill him with his eyes.
"The bastard who stole my role! I'm not letting this go," he muttered viciously to himself.
There were three scenes featuring Matthew as the main actor. The first two, with their close-ups and medium shots, were the most difficult. The final scene, in which his character is killed by Roman soldiers, was relatively easy.
After a fifteen-minute break and four more takes, Matthew finished his scenes relatively smoothly.
"You can go get your makeup removed," the assistant director told him.
Matthew took a sip of water and saw Helen approaching.
She said, "Meet me in the dressing room later. We'll talk."
Matthew first went to the wardrobe department to change clothes, then headed for the makeup area. Many of the extras who were done for the day were also heading there, but they had to wait in line. Matthew, however, could walk right into a dressing room where a dedicated makeup artist would remove his makeup.
When he entered the room, the effeminate male makeup artist was nowhere to be seen. A female assistant offered, "I'll go get him."
"Oh, no, that's not necessary." Although he had vaguely heard that homosexuality was popular in the entertainment industry, Matthew felt a chill at the thought of such impropriety. He told the female assistant, "You can remove my makeup."
It took a long time to get the makeup off, but when he returned to his original appearance, the feeling of freshness on his face made him smile as he stood up.
"Thank you, you're a miracle worker," he said, politely bidding the assistant farewell before stepping out of the makeup trailer.
He had probably taken too long. There was no one around.
Matthew walked on, only to see a man in a barbarian costume stop in front of him, looking as though he had been waiting for him specifically.
Matthew was sure he didn't know the man.