AN: Here you go a bonus chapter. Let's see if we can reach top 10.
Heavy focused on acting and movie story rather than directing.
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[Day 3 Shooting of Mr & Mrs Smith]
The neighborhood had been entirely locked down for the shoot, with guards stationed around the perimeter to ensure no leaks or spoilers found their way outside the barricades. However, despite the tight security, people continued to gather outside the barricade. News had leaked, thanks to Rachel's strategic whisperings, that Alex Wilson would be making his acting debut in the film. Naturally, the crowd that had gathered outside was filled with eager fans—especially girls. There were also a few male fans who came to see Angelina Jolie.
Well, it was one of those typical situations.
The cast and crew were preparing for the take. Alex stood at the center of it all, dressed casually in a white robe, a cup of coffee in one hand as he discussed the shot with the cameraman and assistant director.
"We can take the wide shot from there and then shift the focus slowly to the right until it falls on John, then the neighbour shot and back to John again," Alex explained.
"Got it," Lexy, the assistant director, nodded as she ordered the camera guys around.
Then everyone went to their positions, everything was set up perfectly, and then the shoot began.
"Rolling camera. Take 1. Scene: 1. Action," Lexy's voice echoed through the set.
The camera panned slowly across the neighborhood, capturing the quiet of a typical suburban morning. The street was covered with a blanket of fallen leaves, a sign of the changing season. The wind stirred them gently, sending a few drifting across the sidewalk.
Junior artists dressed as neighbors added life to the scene, walking their dogs, chatting, cleaning the yard, jogging, or getting into their cars. A school bus rumbled down the street, its yellow frame vivid against the pale morning light. A teenage boy, his backpack slung over one shoulder, is riding a bike and delivering newspapers from door to door.
John stood in front of his house, his robe slightly flapping in the breeze. One hand was stuffed into his robe pocket, the other was casually holding a steaming cup of coffee. His gaze was distant, like he was lost in thought or simply taking in the ordinary rhythm of the neighborhood. The camera held its focus, zooming in just enough to highlight him as he picked up the newspaper wrapped in a plastic bag.
The middle-aged man across the street, dressed in a morning robe and pyjamas, stepped out of his front door and picked up the newspaper. Their eyes met, and he nodded with a smile before turning back and walking toward his house, but John didn't smile or respond and simply turned back as if he was tired and walked toward the house.
The crew held their breath as the moment played out. Lexy gave a slight nod to the camera operators, signaling the smooth transition of the focus. The wind picked up again, sending a few more leaves fluttering across the yard.
"Cut," she called, signaling the end of the take.
The set buzzed with movement as the crew began adjusting for the next shot. Alex stayed where he was for a moment, his hand still wrapped around the coffee cup, taking in the way the shot had come together.
Lexy gave him a thumbs up and Alex simply nodded without checking the footage. He trusted her. Well, he used the System to pick her, so she was really good at her job.
...
[Scene 2A: Interior setting] [Kitchen]
Angelina was ready and was in her position.
"Action," Lexi gave the cue.
Jane stood at the center of the kitchen, wearing a pale blue robe that clung loosely to her frame. Her hair was tied up in a messy bun. She was holding a cup of coffee. The TV was on her right.
She took a slow sip and walked out of frame.
"Cut," Lexy called.
The crew rushed in to adjust the lighting, preparing for the next setup. It was supposed to be three quick shots with minimal dialogue, so the prep time was less than a few minutes or so. And with everything set up and pre-planned, it was going to be smooth.
...
[Scene 2B: Bathroom]
"Rolling. Take 3. Action."
The shot opened inside the spacious bathroom.
Jane stood at the sink, brushing her teeth with one hand while holding the newspaper open in the other. Her eyes moved across the page, fully absorbed in the article. She leaned slightly toward the mirror without breaking focus.
John entered behind her, his robe hanging loose over one shoulder. He placed his coffee mug on the sink with a quiet clink, then unfastened the robe and attempted to hook it on the wall clip. It slid off instantly and fell to the floor.
He bent slightly to pick it up, muttering under his breath as he hung it again with more effort.
Then he reached for the faucet. The knob gave resistance before turning with a loud squeak and a slight jerk.
"Gotta get these filters changed," John said to no one in particular.
Jane didn't respond. She finished rinsing her mouth, wiped her lips with a towel, and walked out of frame, her eyes never leaving the newspaper.
"Cut."
Lexy's voice called out from the monitor station. "Perfect. Move on to scene 3A."
...
[Scene 3A] [Bedroom]
"Rolling. Scene 3A. Take 1. Action."
Jane stood by the open closet in a white bra. She was checking her clothes in the closet.
John, shirtless, stood a few feet away from his own closet. He pulled out a shirt from the closet and began slipping his arms into it.
Jane glanced over, voice casual. "What do you think of Dr. Wexlar? His questions were a bit wishy-washy."
John pulled the shirt over his shoulders. "Yeah."
Jane opened another closet door behind him and took out her shoes. "Watch your arm."
John shifted back just in time, brushing his sleeve into place. "Not the most insightful."
Jane stepped to the back, putting on the shoes. "His office is clear across town."
John buttoned his shirt and took out a jacket. He looked back and said, "Well, you know the four o'clock means we hit rush hour. Not crazy about that." He walked out of the room.
Jane leaned back against the desk behind her. One arm resting on her waist. She stared at her reflection in the mirror across the room. The glass captured her bare shoulders and quiet expression.
"So that's settled then, yeah?" she said loud enough to carry.
Off-screen, John's voice replied faintly, "Ok."
A second camera caught him in the other room, flipping on the TV. The screen lit up with morning news.
Back in the bedroom, the first camera pushed in slowly on Jane as her smile faded. She walked forward and leaned on the closet. She looked lonely and unhappy. Her eyes stayed on her own reflection as she muttered under her breath, barely audible.
"Ok."
"Cut."
...
[12:26 PM] [House 3] [Break time]
Angelina's part for the day was over. Her scenes will be shot at night, starting from 7 PM. So, she was free. The house 3 in the neighbourhood was hers. Alex told her to use it as she sees fit. She went in. The hallway was quiet, her heels clicking softly on the hardwood floor as she made her way to the bedroom that had been converted into her personal space during the shoot.
She didn't bother turning on the overhead light. The late afternoon sunlight filtered through the open window, casting a warm glow across the room. Everything had been set up just the way she liked it. A standing rack of wardrobe options lined one wall, a tray with cucumber water and a fresh towel sat by the door, and the makeup table beneath the wide mirror was spotless, lit with soft vanity bulbs that gave the room a calm, almost intimate feel.
She crossed the room slowly and pulled out the chair in front of the mirror, sitting down with a sigh.
Angelina studied her own face for a moment. Alex praised her earlier for doing great and for not wasting takes, and he even gave her a nice kiss when no one was looking. She couldn't help but smile and touch her lips before running her tongue over them.
Then, without a word, she reached down into her bag and pulled out her folded script.
She opened it carefully, flipping to the marked section for tonight's scenes. Her fingers traced the notes she'd scribbled in the margins, the arrows and underlines. Her eyes scanned the lines.
"Alright. Let's keep up the same pace and not mess things up," Angelina mumbled to herself as she began to rehearse.
...
[2 PM]
It was time for the next shot. The cameras had been angled, the lights set, and everyone was in their position.
"Scene 4A, take 1. Action."
The room was dimly lit, the only light coming from a green hanging lamp above the poker table. Cigarette smoke curled through the air. A radio played a rock song in the corner. Three men sat around the table, stacks of chips in front of them, beer bottles sweating on the wood.
Their laughter faded as the door creaked open.
John stepped inside, his shirt wrinkled, eyes half-lidded. He swayed slightly, pretending to be drunk, one hand resting against the wall as he squinted at the group.
"Yo," he slurred. "You guys got a can in here? I've been holdin' it since the last bar."
The man closest to the door didn't even look up. "Keep walking."
John's eyes moved to the poker table. He tilted his head. "You guys playing?"
"Private game," another snapped. "Beat it."
John blinked, then pointed. "Chair's empty. Didn't think chairs had owners."
"That's Lucky's seat, asshole."
John tilted his head. "Lucky? Where's he at then? I don't see anyone. I mean... can't sit if no one's sittin', right?"
One of the men pulled his coat aside, showing the handle of a gun tucked into his waistband. "Then maybe you'll be lucky to leave without a hole in your gut."
John raised both hands. "Cool. Cool. No trouble. Just want to make some quick bucks."
He reached into his coat, pulled out a thick wad of bills, and let it drop on the table. The money slapped down, making one of them flinch. He smirked and, playing the drunk act a little harder, stumbled forward and crashed to the floor.
The three men laughed. "Drunk bastard," one of them muttered.
John stood up, "Just felt like playing a hand. Unless I am too hot for you boys." He went to pick up the cash from the table.
"Alright, let's see what you got," One of them said.
John sat down in Lucky's chair, setting his beer beside the chips. Cards were dealt. The game began. Small talk flowed, peppered with jabs and laughs. John played loose, a little sloppy, just enough to sell the act. His movements were sluggish like a drunk person.
Twenty minutes passed. [Multiple 4-second cut shots to show the passage of time.]
Then the door opened.
Lucky stepped in, a heavy-set man in a dark leather jacket. He stopped when he saw the unfamiliar face at the table. His gaze narrowed.
"Who's the clown?" Lucky asked, stepping forward.
One of the guys at the table shrugged. "Said he wanted a hand. Had cash. We let him sit in. Guy's looking for a job."
John simply glanced back.
"You Lucky?" He asked.
"Yeah," Lucky said. "You looking for a job?"
"You are the job," John said as he shot Lucky with the gun tucked under his armpit.
The shot hit Lucky square in the chest before he could react. The little paint rig under his shirt popped, showing blood. The man staggered back and dropped like a puppet with its strings cut.
The other three stood up at once, hands going for weapons.
John kicked the table hard. Chips, bottles, and cards flew as the table flipped. His chair skidded back with a screech. Before any of them could draw, he fired three shots in rapid succession.
The first man took a bullet in the neck and crumpled. The second dropped backward, gun halfway out of his holster. The third lunged but caught a bullet through the eye.
Silence fell. Smoke floated above the bodies.
John stood there for a moment. He rolled his neck once, then calmly put the gun in the holster and checked the cards. "Ha! 3." He fixed his jacket and walked out.
"Cut!" Lexi called out. "Great job, guys."
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