"Director, aren't you going to call 'action' today?"
Kristen felt a bit nervous. She had gotten used to the usual routines on set, and directors like Michel, with his whimsical, unpredictable style, were quite rare. Even someone as experienced as Kristen felt a bit off balance.
All eyes gradually turned toward Michel.
Michel hadn't even sat down behind the monitor yet. He turned around to look at Kristen, blinked, and said, "Action."
Everyone on set: "..."
That's it?
Without any warning, Michel abruptly announced the start of filming, catching everyone off guard.
But that was exactly the effect Michel wanted, blurring the lines between the film and reality, capturing raw and genuine moments from the actors, and infusing those authentic qualities into the characters and the film, giving them a more real and unique essence.
Caught off guard?
That's the point.
However, after some time working together, the crew had become accustomed to Michel's approach, and they were already mentally prepared:
Always be ready.
Regardless of the actors' reactions, the crew was technically prepared for anything.
Kristen: "Uh..."
Anson: "..."
Michel's unannounced "action" had clearly caught both Anson and Kristen off guard—they weren't even in position.
Being out of position meant the two actors hadn't even gotten into their roles, yet Michel just casually started the scene?
Kristen was baffled.
But unlike Kristen, Anson was already used to this and remained calm.
Anson gave Kristen a reassuring look and subtly lowered his right hand, signaling her to stay calm and just get into position and into character.
Then, without rushing, Anson walked out of the clinic, opened the door, and stood outside.
For this scene, it was Joel's first appearance at the memory clinic, so Anson had to enter from outside. Even though Michel had already started filming early, the sequence still had to be followed. So, Anson had to leave and re-enter to begin the scene properly.
Now Kristen's panic made more sense, right?
The scene was supposed to show Anson entering the clinic, yet Michel had already started filming with Anson still inside. Wasn't that a continuity error or a mistake?
Watching Anson move methodically and calmly, Kristen started to feel more at ease. She took a deep breath, sat down at the reception desk, picked up the phone, and got into character.
Creak.
The clinic door opened.
Joel appeared.
His steps were hesitant. He stood in the doorway, carefully observing the clinic in front of him—
Nothing out of the ordinary, just a typical New York private practice; no special equipment, no notable posters.
Everything was as plain as could be.
Only the receptionist's busy voice could be heard.
"Good morning, Memory Clinic."
Sweet, cheerful, and light. Even without seeing her face or expression, you could sense the innocence and charm in her voice.
Joel took a few steps forward, following the sound.
"No, sorry, that promotion ended after New Year's."
"Of course, we can fit you in... How about the 5th? That's a Wednesday."
Joel entered the clinic fully, seeing people flipping through magazines in the waiting area, and the busy blonde woman at the reception desk.
Her smile was sweet, her voice gentle, like the soothing flow of a mountain stream.
But Joel wasn't paying attention to that. Without interrupting her work, he subtly surveyed the scene—
On the receptionist's desk were a stack of manila envelopes, and a nearby printer was busily printing small, yellowish cards:
"Dear Sir/Madam,
Linda Chen has already sent your file to Eric..."
A quick glance was enough to notice that the cards were exactly the same as the one Joel had in his manila envelope—same material, same text, same tone.
Joel knew he was in the right place, but this realization caused him to waver.
People are strange like that—always craving the truth, yet feeling scared when they're on the verge of discovering it, unsure if they're truly ready to face it.
In that brief moment of hesitation, the blonde receptionist had finished her call. Without looking up, she politely asked,
"How can I help you?"
Joel glanced at her nameplate: Mary Svevo.
He cleared his throat. "I'm Joel Barish."
Mary still didn't look up, as Joel had spoken too quietly and unclearly. "Sorry?"
Joel took a deep breath, raised his voice a little, and enunciated clearly, "Joel. Barish. I have an appointment with the doctor."
Joel couldn't remember the doctor's last name.
Mary smoothly continued the conversation, "Mierzwiak."
Confident, calm, assured. As soon as the name left her lips, her smile broadened, and she finally looked up at her guest.
She handed him a form, "Could you fill this out?"
Joel: "..."
Joel, still holding his envelope and the card inside it, felt awkward. He glanced between the card and the form, his eyes filled with confusion and uncertainty. "I, uh, I just wanted to talk to him."
Mary hesitated for a moment, then looked Joel over from head to toe, finally taking a proper look at his face.
With his scruffy beard, it seemed he hadn't groomed himself in a while. He looked unkempt and down on his luck, yet his sharp features still showed beneath the weariness, with an air of sadness and vulnerability in his eyes.
Mary's gaze lingered on him for a second longer, surprised by what she saw.
Joel, oblivious to this, showed signs of struggle and hesitation on his face.
Mary quickly gathered her thoughts, brushing off her curiosity. "You still need to fill out the form."
Joel's tense shoulders relaxed a little. He took the form from Mary's hand, still glancing between the card and the form—hesitating, unsure.
For a brief moment, Joel's gaze flickered toward the door, feeling an urge to flee.
But in the end, he swallowed his words and thoughts, taking the form with him as he looked for a seat, suddenly remembering something.
"I, uh, don't have a pen."
Joel looked to Mary for help, only to meet her gaze unexpectedly, their eyes locking for a second.
Mary froze.
Only now did Mary realize that she had been discreetly studying Joel, lost in thought. Their eyes met, and she saw the confusion and sadness in his, which made her pause briefly.
But just for a moment.
With an unintentional smile, Mary beamed brightly, perhaps too brightly, as if to shake off the moment and cover her distraction. Her dimples appeared as she pointed out, "There's one right there. Yes, just there."