In the heart of Australia's winter, the wind reigned supreme, relentless and fierce. The tempestuous gales were so potent that standing firm became a challenge; it was as though extending one's arms would launch them skyward like kites. The vast expanse lay before their eyes, a canvas devoid of human presence for thirty minutes' drive in any direction. Within this solitude, a quietude as boundless as the horizon emerged, casting an ineffable sense of loneliness—humanity rendered minute in the grandeur of nature.
However, after enduring the baptism of the boot camp, Renly found himself growing composed. Not because he had grown accustomed to the harsh environment, but because he understood that after the most trying moments came yet greater challenges.
Tim had told him that on the battlefield, survival was paramount. Renly comprehended these words but lacked the firsthand experience to truly grasp them. Even after ten days of rigorous training, the specter of death remained somewhat elusive. Not even the night on the desolate outskirts, where his toes almost froze off, brought the reality of it closer. Yet, at the very least, it marked a beginning.
Following their stint at the new recruits' camp in San Diego, the entire cast of "The Pacific" arrived in Australia, ready to commence official filming.
From start to finish, neither Tom Hanks nor Steven Spielberg, the two giants of the production, had made an appearance. Rumor had it that they would visit the set next week. Tom, who had directed the fifth episode of "Band of Brothers" in his directorial capacity, would not be involved in directing this time. He was presently engaged in searching for a suitable production company for his next work, "Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close".
Regardless of whether Tom and Steven attended, the production was finally poised to start shooting. This was an absolute certainty, the culmination of all the preparations leading up to this day.
As Renly gazed upon the bustling set, the unfamiliar outweighed the familiar.
Divided by monitors, the set had a distinct front and rear. The formal shooting location was in the forefront. Crew members were laying down tracks for the shots, cinematographers and lighting technicians adjusted the illumination, prop masters confirmed that all the arrangements were flawless, and the sound engineer stood alongside the production assistant, confirming the upcoming shooting process while setting up recording equipment. In the rear were the standby area and the director, holding a radio, engaged in direct communication with heads of various departments. The assistant director stood nearby, following their orders. Other actors were gathered beside a massive mobile home, at the mercy of makeup artists and stylists. The rest of the onlookers stood about three steps away, chattering and gossiping.
Renly had witnessed countless scenes of set filming in numerous films. What unfolded before his eyes had appeared countless times in his dreams. Yet, when all this unfolded tangibly before him, he couldn't contain the surge of excitement within him. Or, to be more precise, he didn't want to contain it. He allowed his surging thoughts to roam unbridled. Straddling two worlds, he was about to step before the camera, to realize his dreams according to his own volition, for the very first time.
Although he wasn't certain if his dream was sufficiently grounded, although he was uncertain of where this path would ultimately lead, although he was unaware of the weighty responsibility of altering historical trajectories, he, this small butterfly, had no regrets. Nor would he ever.
"All actors in position." David Nutter raised the loudspeaker and bellowed, instantly commanding everyone's attention. The actors gathered around the monitor, forming a circle. Renly was no exception.
He was a professional television director, highly esteemed within the industry. Just shy of fifty, his resume boasted works like "Supernatural" and "The Mentalist". Later, he had helmed episodes of "Game of Thrones", "Homeland", "The Flash", "Arrow", and more.
In the United States, TV show directors weren't fixed roles; within a season of twenty-four episodes, there could be seven or eight different directors, even more, each responsible for directing different episodes. "The Pacific" followed this pattern too. With ten episodes in total, it had six directors. David was in charge of the first and fourth episodes.
"The first scene is about to begin. Actors, please take your positions. Follow the production assistant to go through the process, understand the camera positions, and if you have any questions, raise them quickly. Then, we'll start shooting," David succinctly briefed them, pausing before adding, "Today marks the first scene of "The Pacific". Let's hope for a smooth filming process."
Should they applaud here?
Glancing around, Renly wasn't quite sure, but then David put down the loudspeaker, and both actors and crew dispersed. Clearly, this was the commencement ceremony, executed with a casualness that eschewed the rumored formality and grandeur. Renly unconsciously adjusted his breathing, gathered his thoughts, and briskly entered the filming scene.
Although Renly was a complete newcomer, with no practical experience in TV or movie production, he had gained a thorough understanding through theoretical study. He had practiced using a camera to record his performances during his college years, and he had also honed his skills for quite some time in London's West End. He knew that the first step was to understand what he was doing and how to go about it.
For acting, merely standing in front of the camera wasn't sufficient. Essentially, acting needed to be captured by the camera, and accurately so. This required actors to comprehend the camera's, lighting's, and lens' positions. They had to adjust their positions based on their fellow actors' positions or the camera's movement along a track to avoid obstructing the lens or overshadowing their scene partners.
However, this was merely the basics. How to communicate with the camera, the director behind it, or the audience, how to interact with scene partners, and how to perform varied across different shot types like close-ups, medium shots, wide shots, and extreme close-ups. All of this could only be learned through the process of acting itself.
Renly was a bit nervous. Although he had lived two lives as a person, those experiences were of no use here. This was his first time standing before a camera. His palms lightly perspired, yet he hesitated not at all. He walked directly to the production assistant to inquire about the basics, question after question.
Darin Rivetti, somewhat impatient, was the overall production assistant for "The Pacific". He had to manage too many things. As this was the first scene, he was hands-on. This inexperienced greenhorn, asking such fundamental questions, wasn't just inconveniencing him; it was humiliating him. Finally succumbing to his irritation, he burst out, "Idiot! Even newcomers know the answers to these questions! And yet you dare ask me?"
However, Renly didn't appear fazed in the slightest. With a focused and earnest gaze, he said, "This is my first project. So, I need to clarify the discrepancies between what I learned in school and the practical reality. It's to enhance my efficiency. Isn't it?"
Observing Renly's sincere expression, the deep pupils beneath the brilliant sunlight exuded a rich and vibrant brown. Darin, solemnly holding onto his patience, couldn't utter any retort. He could only channel his irritability, glaring at him, his fingers tightly gripping Renly's collar. He wanted to vent his frustration, "Which blind fool selected you and put a novice like you here? Eugene is a pivotal role, the protagonist! The protagonist!"
"Mr. Steven Spielberg," Renly continued innocently, his face entirely genuine. Darin was nearly choked by his own saliva.
Darin turned to leave, but Renly stopped him again. "So, for the first scene, do we transition from a medium shot to a wide shot or from a close-up to a medium shot? Will the camera rotate by hand, or will it move based on a track?"
The relentless barrage of trivial questions made Darin clench his teeth, silently admonishing himself: Bear with it, bear with it; it's only the first day. Bear with it, there are still six long months ahead. However, perhaps he could give this self-proclaimed 'genius' a little warning, akin to reprimanding a rookie at boot camp. "Transition from a medium shot to a wide shot, track movement." Darin didn't linger, he briskly turned and left.
Renly nodded and took his position, preparing for his first scene. It was also the first scene for the entire "The Pacific" crew. To herald a good beginning, they had chosen a relatively simple scene to film.
The scene depicted Eugene's father examining his body. The heart murmur persisted, rendering Eugene ineligible for the military, leaving him disappointed and on the brink of tears. This was Eugene's debut scene in the entire play. Considering that this scene was both time-consuming and complex, featuring close-up shots of the face, David chose a scene that followed this one as the opener.
Eugene left his bedroom and descended to the living room. His father and brother were listening to the radio. The war was growing more brutal. His brother was about to enlist, dressed smartly in his military uniform, sitting face to face with their father. Eugene stood at the living room doorway, witnessing this harmonious scene. However, his disappointment over his inability to enlist due to his health issues and a tinge of anger arose. He stormed out onto the porch, pedaling his bicycle, accompanied by his beloved dog, for some solace.
This scene's essence revolved around capturing Eugene standing at the doorway, observing his father and brother. This shot, lasting less than five seconds, encompassed the shifts in the father and brother's emotions and Eugene's reaction, concluding with Eugene's departure.
The content was rich yet relatively straightforward, with a relatively uniform emotional tone, avoiding dramatic peaks and valleys. This scene would film smoothly. It was an apt choice to open the series.
Standing at the staircase, Renly let his thoughts settle. He glanced at the camera positioned directly ahead and then at the one situated behind the dining area to his left, facing the living room. He mentally constructed a three-dimensional composition of the scene, and once he was ready, he signaled his readiness with an 'OK' gesture to the director.
After a while, once the actors for the father and brother were prepared as well, the assistant director's voice rang out, "The Pacific, August 3rd, 2009, Act III, Scene 2, First Shot." After uttering this, the crisp clapboard sound echoed, signifying the official commencement of filming.
Renly took a step, descending the stairs. The radio's voice flowed into his ears, narrating the dire conditions of the Pacific War. His steps involuntarily faltered. He turned his head to see his father and brother in the living room, attentively listening to the news. His feet came to a halt, rooted to the spot. He looked toward those two figures with a somewhat dazed expression.
Just at that moment, a red light appeared within his field of vision, then slowly retreated. This unexpected red light disrupted Renly's performance rhythm. Wasn't it supposed to be a transition from a medium shot to a wide shot? Why was it a close-up? Weren't they supposed to be filming on a track? Why did he see a cameraman carrying a camera in his line of sight?
"Cut!" David's voice shattered the silence on set.
The very first scene had hit a snag.