Hollywood Production

Squatting between the large boxes in his small living room, Luke glanced at his diploma from the California Academy of Arts. He studied it for a moment before tossing it into one of the boxes and sealing it with tape, preparing to ship it back to Santa Monica tomorrow.

"What's the worth of graduating with top marks in film and video?" he muttered to himself. "Tens of thousands flock to Hollywood each year seeking opportunities. How many truly succeed?"

With a sigh, Luke dropped the tape on the old sofa and headed to his bedroom to change clothes. "You've been in this world for 21 years and achieved nothing so far, poor man."

He sank into a chair, memories of another life flooding back. Despite living in Los Angeles since his birth in 1970, echoes of his previous experiences lingered, as vivid as if they happened yesterday.

In that past life, after graduating from a prestigious film academy, Luke had briefly worked in the industry but never crossed paths with many notable figures. Without a company or a powerful ally, newcomers struggled to make a name for themselves.

To pursue his dream of becoming a film director, Luke had taken various crew roles, even working as an assistant in props and pyrotechnics. His dedication paid off, and he eventually became a well-known pyrotechnician, specializing in explosive scenes. 

However, just as he was about to savour the fruits of his labour, a tragic accident during a set explosion changed everything—he became Luke Rosenberg, born anew in Los Angeles.

Perhaps it was divine justice: losing the potential success of his previous life while gaining a stable one in this new existence. 

Raised in a single-parent home by his mother, Leah Rosenberg, he experienced a decent upbringing. Although not extremely wealthy, Leah's advertising agency thrived, with close ties to Hollywood dating back to the 70s, when she and George Lucas were friends.

In this life, Luke was determined and focused, intent on harnessing his family's connections. He frequently visited Lucas as a child and even landed a small, ultimately cut role in "Star Wars." Those early experiences on set exposed him to Hollywood's inner workings, shaping his vision for the future.

When not engaged in sports, Luke immersed himself in film studies—screenwriting, photography, and editing—all vital for his success. Over the past decade, he had absorbed every piece of knowledge available to him. 

After high school, he chose not to attend the business school his mother recommended; instead, he enrolled in the California Academy of Arts, where he secured an agent and began gaining experience on various film sets.

To date, Luke had played over a dozen non-speaking roles and worked in numerous crews, even on Spielberg's "Hook," surpassing his past life experiences. But despite this progress, his financial situation remained dire, his credit card in the red, and he faced mounting expenses for books, equipment, and experimental films.

As a member of the esteemed Rosenberg family, Luke was taught from the age of sixteen to be responsible for his living expenses, aside from tuition fees. It's undeniable that becoming an accomplished director comes with significant financial burdens.

Purchasing essential books, expensive films, renting equipment, and shooting experimental projects all add up, weighing heavily on Luke's finances.

"What should I do next?" he pondered. Returning to Santa Monica would offer temporary relief thanks to his mother, but he needed a real job. "I've put in over ten years to become an assistant director last life. Do I really need to start over?"

It's 1991, the clock was ticking—each passing year diminished his chances. After 21 years of waiting and accumulating knowledge, he craved just one opportunity to shoot a real movie.

"But who doesn't need an opportunity? Everyone wanting a shot in Hollywood is in the same boat."

With that thought, he opened his closet, pulled out a formal suit, and examined himself in the mirror.

"Maybe Lovett can help me?"

Lovett, his agent, had a reputation for success. While Luke's career stagnated, Lovett had thrived and was now a sought-after agent at CAA. Luke was aware that his brokerage contract was nearing expiration and the meeting was crucial for potential renewal.

After changing, he looked at his reflection again. His medium brown hair, inherited from his mother, framed a face defined by strong features—a mix of Jewish and other ancestries. He couldn't help but wonder if he'd be better off as just another pretty face in commercial films.

Shaking off the thought, he left his apartment, locked the door, and drove his second-hand Chevrolet toward the California Institute of Arts.

Valencia, a satellite city of Los Angeles, wasn't far from his home. After navigating a couple of intersections, he parked near a café by the side entrance of the academy.

Entering, he spotted Lovett in a quiet corner, but his presence was accompanied by another man.

"Why is he here?" Luke frowned, quickening his pace.

Lovett noticed him and gestured for him to come over. "Luke," he called.

"Hi, Lovett." Luke sat down, extending a hand to the other man. "Hello, Rick. Didn't expect to see you here."

Rick Solomon, a former classmate and both members of college football team, simply waved, showing no intention of shaking hands. Their history was marked by rivalry—both had vied for the attention of the same cheerleader, and Rick had lost.

As Lovett remained silent, Luke broke the ice. "About the new contract…"

"Sorry, Luke." Lovett set down his coffee cup, cutting him off. "I'm here primarily to negotiate a brokerage contract with Mr. Solomon."

He paused, then continued bluntly, "CAA will evaluate every artist. Unfortunately, your acting skills haven't improved, and I see no potential for success as a director. We won't be renewing your contract."

Luke felt a surge of shock at the unexpected rejection. Hope was slipping away.

"I'm sorry," Lovett added, though the lack of remorse in his tone was palpable. "The company's management has invited me to become a partner. My focus will shift to more established artists. I can't waste my energy on someone with no future."

Luke maintained his composure, quickly masking his surprise.

"You know, Luke," Lovett said, standing up and patting him on the shoulder condescendingly, "you've disappointed me. In five years, you've played 17 roles, yet your career remains stagnant. You're wasting your time and energy if you continue."

With that, he strode out of the café, leaving Luke in stunned silence.

"Did you hear that? You're not suited for Hollywood," Rick sneered, lingering with a smirk. "Lovett's known for his keen eye, but clearly, he sees no future for you."