Lens darling

David placed his hands on his hips, a mix of frustration and helplessness churning in his chest.

Normally, for good luck, the first scene on a set is a simple shot. Passing it smoothly implies that the following filming will be smooth sailing. That's why they had chosen this scene.

But they could never have imagined that, merely two seconds into the first shot, things would go awry. And it was the most basic, amateur mistake - a misalignment of the actor's focus and the camera's focus. It truly set David's anger ablaze.

One of the major distinctions between movies, television, and theater lies in visual focus.

On the theater stage, an actor's focus is always aimed at the audience. They release their emotions to the spectators, even making eye contact with specific audience members for communication, creating visual and auditory impact.

However, movies and television differ. Cameras are in constant motion. Directors want to switch between different angles, distances, and positions to create varying spatial feelings. The colors, lighting, scenery, and characters within a shot are all tools the director employs to convey ideas - what's termed "cinematic language". This implies that an actor's focus should align with the director's vision. It might be a vacant spot on the set, a fellow actor in a scene, or directly into the camera.

Many rookie actors, especially those transitioning from theater, instinctively look at the camera, particularly the red light signaling it's recording. They use it as a reference point to adjust their focus and pacing. Such rookie mistakes are not uncommon, but they're undoubtedly frustrating.

Just now, Renly had made this mistake. As the camera moved, his focus was drawn to the red light, and he followed the footsteps of the cameraman, completely disrupting the entire composition.

David was truly infuriated. The first scene of "The Pacific" had been halted due to such a trivial error. The promising start had been dashed. David clenched his teeth fiercely. He could teach this incredibly foolish newcomer a lesson, but he suppressed his anger, considering that this was just the first scene of the shoot. "Don't stare at the camera. First rule of being on camera. Understand?" Each word emerged slowly, with an unavoidable sense of helplessness. It seemed to mock Renly's ignorance.

In the back of the set, the experienced crew members exchanged knowing looks, their faces wearing smirks of schadenfreude. Whether rookies making mistakes or newbies being reprimanded, these were the best topics for post-production chit-chat. On the first day of "The Pacific", Renly had earned a nickname that quickly caught on: "Stiff Rookie".

Upon hearing the sound of "cut", Renly's initial reaction was bewilderment. He had stood before the camera full of confidence and ambition. He was thoroughly prepared for this scene, even envisioning his performance down to the finest detail. He believed there were no issues and that he might even impress everyone. But he hadn't anticipated that, after only two seconds, the shoot would be called off. It was like a bucket of cold water being dumped on his head. He was caught off guard.

Subconsciously, he turned his head, searching the crowd for Darin. Didn't he say it would transition from a medium shot to a wide shot? Why was it a close-up turning into a medium shot in reality, with the cameraman filming? Suddenly, he noticed the cameraman's presence within his line of sight. His focus shifted, combined with his unfamiliarity with the moving camera, he adjusted his focus based on the red dot. This was the root cause of the mishap.

Renly easily spotted Darin. At the moment, Darin was engaged in a hushed conversation with those around him. His relaxed brows and the slight smile on his lips seemed oblivious to any irregularity. Sensing Renly's gaze, Darin lifted his head, cast a quick glance that paused as gently as a feather, then turned away, devoid of any excess emotion. It was as if Renly was no more significant than a small ant, unworthy of attention.

This was the truth. Darin was the head production manager of the entire crew, holding the power of life and death over all the behind-the-scenes work. Renly, on the other hand, was a greenhorn, lacking influence, connections, and roots in the industry. Even friends on the set were few and far between.

Renly didn't know why Darin had set him up, but now he finally grasped what Rami meant. "Stubborn little brat" was not just a saying. The production crew wasn't only composed of the director and producers who held the ultimate authority, but also fellow actors and behind-the-scenes personnel. The latter might not have control over life and death, but they could certainly make life miserable with subtle hindrances.

Suppressing the emotions swirling in his chest, Renly didn't foolishly complain to David about his grievance. He nodded, shouldering his mistake with composure. "I apologize. I'll pay attention." With a swift motion, he put an end to his first blunder. As an actor, the way to regain his footing was simple - to captivate the director with an outstanding performance. It was the most direct and effective method.

Taking a deep breath to settle his thoughts, he avoided being thrown off by the minor mishap and returned to his acting mode.

From Eugene's character, Renly couldn't help but recall his past life. After the car accident, he had awakened from unconsciousness, only to find his body unresponsive. That sense of panic and fear was like an endless free fall. It persisted until the doctor pronounced his "death sentence," confining his remaining days to a hospital bed. When he turned his head, he saw children playing in the hospital yard. They ran, laughed, and played freely under the golden sunlight, casting a thin halo of beauty over everything. It was heartbreaking.

"Action!" David's voice echoed once again.

"At Pearl Harbor In the Pacific Islands, in the Philippines, In Malaya and the Dutch East Indies…" On the radio, Churchill's speech was describing the crisis of the ongoing war. The crackling of burning firewood in the fireplace emphasized the chilly quietness within the room. Churchill's voice, with minimal fluctuations, added a touch of solemnity. "They must now know the stakes are mortal…"

Eugene descended from the second floor, wearing his coat. His steps involuntarily slowed down as he turned his head and spotted his father and brother intently listening in the living room.

His gaze fell upon his brother, a mixture of envy and longing. His brother's military uniform gleamed under the flickering firelight. His father held a pipe, his once-upright back slightly hunched, his expression solemn as he was lost in thought. "When we look at the resources of the United States And the British Empire compared to those of Japan, when we have so long valiantly withstood invasion…"

His brother was the first to notice Eugene's arrival. He looked up, his eyes hesitant. Then, his father lifted his head, giving Eugene a fleeting glance.

Eugene's footsteps froze in place. His relaxed shoulders straightened unconsciously, his spine attempting to bolster his remaining dignity before his father and brother.

However, he failed. That mixed look in his eyes held too much weight, crashing down heavily. His heart was suddenly gripped, cutting off all breath. His strong shoulder line trembled slightly, revealing a trace of desolation and pain. The struggle to persist, though valiant, couldn't endure for long. It shattered within less than a second, crumbling completely. The trembling fragility of despair descended, as if all strength had been drained. Even the weight of a jacket seemed impossible to uphold any longer.

The intersection of despair and anger tightened Eugene's jaw, curving his chin with tension. He awkwardly averted his gaze, half of his face illuminated while the other remained in shadow. Amidst the interplay of light and shadow, a sense of calm and indifference outlined a touch of solitude, gently diffusing within the sparse halo. His dense, slender eyelashes cast shadows that trembled twice before fragmenting into countless pieces, dissolving into ripples of poignant sorrow, silently expanding like a ripple.

Then, his father shifted his gaze, once again immersing himself in the radio. His brother's eyes hesitated before landing on Eugene's shoulder, a heated pain that tingled.

Eugene could no longer bear such torment. He swiftly left the hall, striding towards the entrance. His steps, laden with heaviness, staggered slightly, yet without the slightest pause. Instead, they grew faster and faster, the flames of resentment and hatred blooming like flowers beneath his feet. "Bang", the door slammed shut, a muffled sound that severed all emotions, ending abruptly.

Sitting in the hall, his father raised his head, turning to look in the direction Eugene had left, his eyes filled with melancholy.

It was over. The filming of this scene had concluded. The opening and closing took merely five to seven seconds, quickly ending. However, the set was shrouded in silence. Not only did David remain speechless, even the other actors held their breath.

David's eyes brimmed with incredulity, finding it hard to believe that in those short five seconds, this novice had erupted with such astonishing energy.

Without a single line of dialogue, not even a frontal close-up, the entire shot contained only Eugene's back and profile. Yet, the delicate changes in the muscles of his back and the poised posture spoke of despair, anger, sadness, pain, regret, and resentment with utmost clarity. Even within such a narrow frame, he still portrayed a range of emotions and fluctuations, leaving a lingering resonance. The surge of emotion in that side profile was the epitome of silent excellence, as if the interplay of light and shadow allowed one to vividly see the imprints of time on his facial contours. It was a shock that rendered language meaningless.

He was like the darling of the lens, light's projection, imagery's capture, motion and stillness shifts - all perfectly and vividly presented within the camera's lens. Every second seemed imbued with significance. Indescribable, truly indescribable! It was a skill, but more than that, it was a gift. Like a divine blessing, he was born for the lens, living for the performance.

Five seconds, merely five seconds, and this actor had encapsulated all emotions perfectly. David could even conjure Eugene's entire character vividly in his mind. This extraordinary performance left him genuinely amazed.

"Cut!" David finally found his voice, breaking the frozen atmosphere of the entire set, an overwhelming release akin to torrential rain.