The next day, Luca drove to the set.
After a night's rest, he looked much better—no longer as pale as the day before. A faint smile lingered on his lips, and everything seemed normal, except for his ears, which were unusually red.
"Good morning, Luca!"
"Good morning, Mr. Kelly! You look great today!"
"Mr. Kelly, my friend's daughter is a fan of yours. Could I get an autograph for her?"
As Luca walked onto the set, people from the crew greeted him warmly, smiling and being unusually friendly.
Luca was surprised. These same people usually acted like zombies—cold and distant. Today, it seemed like they all had new faces. "Did the sun rise in the west or something?" he thought.
"Is there some kind of conspiracy?"
Luca exchanged greetings and laughed, "Why are you all suddenly talking to me today? Aren't you worried Director Babank will dock your pay?"
"Haha, sorry, Luca. For a while, Director Babank asked us to act that way toward you to give you some pressure and help you get into character," Farkas, the assistant director, explained.
"But yesterday, Director Babank said we don't need to do that anymore. He thinks you can handle it on your own, so we're back to normal," he added.
"Yeah, we didn't really like acting like that. It was so awkward not smiling or talking every day," the head cinematographer said, laughing and patting his large belly.
"Acting while working these past few days wasn't easy!" the others chimed in, smiling.
Luca smiled slightly. At first, he didn't understand Babank's methods, but over time, he began to see what the director was trying to do. That's why he didn't quit, but instead pushed through the pressure and kept going.
After all, everyone was doing their part. If he didn't work hard, how could he consider himself any better than a lazy pig?
"Thank you, everyone! After we finish shooting today, I'll treat you all to a meal on the Ipanema!"
"Great!"
"Thanks, Luca! I love group dinners!"
"Can't wait for today to be over, I'm so excited!"
The Ipanema was a high-end restaurant located on a cruise ship in the bay. With fine wine, beautiful women, and fresh seafood, it was a famous place for indulgence in Rio, but the prices were steep, and most people couldn't afford to dine there.
Luca didn't care about the money, so he called Ms. Barbara to reserve a private section on the boat under his name.
"Good morning, Luca!"
Everyone was getting ready when Jose, the assistant director, arrived a bit late.
"Good morning!"
Luca thought for a moment and asked, "Jose, how did I do in yesterday's scene?"
"Haha, you did pretty well! But the instructor said that your performance yesterday was the result of a long buildup. If you can deliver a performance naturally, without needing that buildup, then you'll be set."
Jose grinned.
Luca nodded. "I'll keep working at it."
Jose chuckled. "Alright, are you ready? We're about to start filming."
"But Director Babank isn't here. How are we supposed to film?" Luca asked, glancing around.
"The director isn't coming today. He's been exhausted these past few days, working long hours, and almost had a heart attack yesterday."
"Is he okay?"
"He'll be fine after some rest. I'll be taking over the filming for now, so give it your best. Don't expect me to go easy on you."
"Alright, got it!"
At 9:30 a.m., filming for *Buried Alive* resumed.
After a bit of preparation, Luca climbed into a wooden box to start his performance.
"I'm a truck driver."
"I'm a civilian contractor working in Iraq. We were attacked in Baqubah."
"They shot and killed the drivers."
Jose sat in the director's chair, watching the performance on the monitor.
"The instructor was right. Yesterday was definitely a breakthrough," he muttered, rubbing his chin. Compared to yesterday, Luca's performance today lacked some of the intensity.
Yesterday, Luca had been like a taut string, and as the plot progressed, that string produced beautiful music. Today, the string was a bit loose, and the performance wasn't as smooth.
But it was still a level above his earlier work.
"So he really did break through. This guy has a lot of potential," Jose nodded to himself.
"Cut!" Jose shouted after half an hour of filming.
Unlike Babank, who was more of a tough, silent type of director, Jose didn't hesitate to point out mistakes when he saw them.
"Luca, your focus isn't there. The performance lacks emotional impact," Jose critiqued, pointing out several issues with Luca's acting.
In the past, Jose might not have been able to pinpoint exactly where Luca was going wrong. But after witnessing yesterday's high-level performance, he had a clear benchmark, like grading a student's test with the answer key in hand.
"Luca, did you understand what I said?" Jose asked.
"Yeah, I just need a moment to get ready."
From inside the wooden box, Luca responded.
Throughout the day, the pattern continued: Luca would act, and Jose would repeatedly call for cuts, offering detailed feedback. It was a bit frustrating for Luca. In the beginning, he had desperately wanted someone to guide him, but Babank had been tight-lipped, forcing him to figure things out on his own through painful trial and error.
But he had gotten used to that method.
Now, out of nowhere, a new director was constantly interrupting and offering suggestions. It was enough to make him nostalgic for the silent old bald-headed director.
"Ahchoo!"
Hundreds of miles away, in a dimly lit editing room in São Paulo, a scruffy-bearded man was sitting at a screen, frame by frame, editing film strips.
"Palos!"
An old man with a bald head sat in a wheelchair, an IV drip attached to his arm, as someone pushed him into the room.
"Babank, what are you doing here? Don't bother me. I'm busy," the editor muttered, scratching his head.
"I wanted to ask when the footage would be ready."
"Three days!" the editor said confidently.
"Three days?" Babank nodded.
He had worked with this editor for over 20 years, and they had earned plenty of accolades together. He trusted the man's skills.
"Babank, you seem to be in a hurry?" the editor asked, confused.
"Haha, you'll find out in a few days," Babank replied before leaving the studio. He still had a ton of post-production work to handle—dubbing, music, and so much more.
After finishing shooting in the afternoon, everyone piled into two minivans and headed to the ship for the dinner party.
On the way, Luca remembered something and went to ask Jose.
"Jose, when will yesterday's footage be edited?"
"Why do you want to know?"
Jose scratched his arm, accidentally irritating some mosquito bites.
"I want to review it and figure out what went wrong."
"You want to see it?"
Jose smirked. "You think I'd give you the answer key? I'm not crazy."
"Luca, the footage from yesterday hasn't been edited yet. You can watch the stuff from a few days ago."
"Fine!" Luca said, though he was eager to see the footage from yesterday. He hadn't been able to get into the same flow today, and he thought seeing yesterday's recording might help spark something.
"Don't worry about it, Luca," Jose chuckled. "It's after hours. Time to relax! So, what's the plan for tonight?"
The others turned to listen as well.
Luca grinned. "Colombian powder, a Japanese feast, and a strip show by the Venice Dance Troupe."
"What?!"
The crew members were dumbstruck.
"Luca, a strip show? Isn't that a bit much?" Jose blushed, rubbing his hands together awkwardly. "There are still some women in the crew."
"Yeah, you're right," Luca nodded. "Out of respect for the ladies... none of that is happening."
"What?!"
"Why would you even say that, then?"
"Talk about a letdown!" the men on the bus complained, while the women, most of whom were in their 30s and 40s, chuckled at the joke.
Luca smiled. "Don't worry, everyone. Tonight's dinner won't disappoint."
"Good, because when you mentioned all that other stuff, I got a bit worried. We're respectable people—we don't go for that kind of thing," Jose said, grinning.
"Yeah, yeah," a few of the guys chimed in, nodding in agreement.
"Hypocrites!" the women scoffed, laughing at them.
Amidst the laughter, the two minivans drove into Guanabara Bay.
Night was falling, and the fun was about to begin.