Compared to Helen Herman's semi-professional approach, Ridley Scott was undoubtedly a seasoned professional.
"He knows how to use his voice and body," Ridley commented objectively about Matthew. "But he's exerting too much force; his acting is superficial and he's far from a breakthrough."
Helen nodded slightly in agreement.
Ridley continued, "You can't tell much from one scene, and Hollywood rarely sees actors truly come into their own."
Unlike the extras who found their own spots to rest, as the focal point of these scenes, Matthew sat comfortably in a high-backed chair, a privilege not afforded to the background actors. A makeup artist and an assistant director scrutinized the new scars on his face for any potential issues, ensuring his look was perfect for the camera.
This was perhaps the most comfortable Matthew had been since arriving on set. The area designated for him included snacks for energy, electrolyte drinks for hydration, and he was even temporarily assigned an assistant to handle matters outside of shooting.
However, these perks were limited to the duration of these scenes; once the shooting ended, so would the special treatment.
"I wonder what kind of treatment Russell Crowe gets?" Matthew mused, feeling a bit idle, akin to peasants discussing the emperor's golden scepter.
After a while, the temporary assistant came over to inform him that it was time to prepare for the next scene.
The upcoming scene involved action, but Matthew was the only true actor involved. The camera would focus solely on his close-up swinging the war hammer, a choice that justified the crew's willingness to use him on short notice.
For more complex fight scenes involving physical contact, either stunt performers were used or actors underwent extensive professional training.
Matthew walked to the set, where part of the crew dressed as Roman soldiers and barbarians lay on the ground, playing dead to serve as the background.
"You'll center your movements here!" the action director who had interacted with Matthew before came over for a final briefing. "Don't move more than a meter to either side!"
"And you've swung a sledgehammer before, right?" he added. "Swing it as you would to leverage your full strength!"
"Got it!" Matthew nodded.
Before shooting, the action director had explained that Gladiator's action scenes were meant to be realistic and forceful, not the exaggerated style currently popular in Hollywood.
Matthew didn't understand the fine art of choreographed fights that involved theatrics like Qi Gong or dance elements, but street fighting and swinging hammers were part of his rough-and-tumble past.
After the action director left, a makeup artist checked Matthew's makeup again before leaving the set.
As the shooting was about to start, Matthew looked around; only one camera was set up directly in front of him.
The shoot began quickly. At the call, Matthew swung the hammer with the force of knocking down several concrete pillars, from left to right, his totem-embossed war hammer whistling through the air. Weighing only about five or six pounds and made of resin, it felt like a real hammer in his hands.
With no "enemies" around, Matthew had to swing at the air. After several swings, his intense expression inadvertently relaxed.
Performing alone is different from interacting with another actor, and his lack of experience was showing...
"Cut!" Ridley Scott stopped the shoot again and shouted at Matthew, "You're hitting Roman soldiers, not balloons!"
Matthew paused and caught his breath as Ridley ordered, "Reset, let's shoot it again!"
Subsequent takes did not go smoothly. What seemed like a simple scene—Matthew alone in close-up and medium shots—proved challenging.
After six more failed takes, only one of which was due to a focus issue on the cameraman's part, the others were Matthew's fault.
"Take a ten-minute break!"
Fortunately, Ridley's impatience didn't flare into anger.
As Matthew returned to his resting area, the extras, particularly those playing barbarian soldiers, looked at him with some disdain. Their envy of his opportunity was compounded by annoyance at having to lie on the damp ground for so long because of his errors.
Matthew ignored their looks and sat back down, unsure how to adjust his performance.
"Water?" the temporary assistant offered.
"No, thanks." Matthew was polite but not overly confident, "Thank you."
The makeup artist approached again. "Touch-up!"
Matthew nodded and cooperated fully, although this particular makeup artist's effeminate demeanor wasn't to his taste—he generally disliked overly effeminate men.
Dislike? Suddenly, an idea sparked in Matthew, and he grasped onto it as it quickly expanded in his mind.
His repeated failures in the close-up shots stemmed from a lack of genuine ferocity, as if he weren't truly fighting for his life.
The word "dislike" reminded him of his previous employers who had withheld wages and the officers who had unfairly jailed him. What if he envisioned the air around him filled with these adversaries during his next
performance? This could fuel his intensity and provide a focus for his anger...
After pondering for a moment, Matthew felt this approach might work; he couldn't think of any other solution.
As the assistant returned to notify him, Matthew stood among the extras playing dead for another take.
This time, channeling all his negative energy, he glared ahead as if his dishonest former boss was right there.
"Action!"
At the call, Matthew swung his hammer with a fury as if trying to pulverize his enemies into the ground.
Then he swung again, imagining the disdainful officer who had arrested him now looking on with contempt.
The sound of wind accompanied his increasingly ferocious expression, as if he wished to shatter the very earth beneath him.
"Ah..."
From behind the monitor, Ridley Scott's eyebrows raised in surprise. The performance he saw was drastically different from before—this wasn't spectacular, but it was significantly better than the previous take, and perfectly adequate for a minor role in a commercial film.
Such rapid improvement? Although Ridley was curious, his interest was fleeting; Matthew was just a minor actor, not worth much focus.
Far from the set, Helen Herman crossed her arms, with her assistant Amanda beside her.
"Scott didn't call cut," Amanda noted suddenly.
Helen, retracting her inquisitive gaze, asked, "Did you find out if he had professional training when you researched him yesterday?"
She couldn't quite remember.
"He hasn't," Amanda stated confidently.
"This guy..." Helen coughed lightly, touching her mouth, "seems to have some potential."
She made up her mind. "Amanda, prepare a long-term contract when we get back to Los Angeles."
Nearby, the bald man, the tall one, and Michael Sheen were also watching the shoot.
"No wonder he got such a role," the bald man shook his head. "He's got real skill! Look at that crazy energy; can an ordinary person pull that off?"
The tall man tapped his head, "Both scenes he's done well. Getting such an opportunity definitely means he has the skill."
He looked at Michael Sheen, "You know him; is that right?"
"Heh..." Michael chuckled awkwardly, having always claimed to be Matthew's close friend, he had to agree, "Seems like it."
The bald man slapped his thigh and stood up, "That kid's really going to move beyond being an extra. With his performance today, being a regular character actor should be no problem."
Michael laughed dryly again, then heard Ridley Scott through the megaphone, "Cut!"
"He's stopped?" Michael wondered internally, "Good, he messed up again!"
"This take is good!"
But the next words he heard left him frozen on the spot.
Meanwhile, Meiken, holding his round shield, stared daggers at Matthew, seething, "This bastard who took my role! I'll settle the score with him."
The scenes focused on Matthew involved three major sequences, with the first two—the close-ups and medium shots—being the most challenging. The final scene, a long shot where his character is killed by Roman soldiers, was relatively easier.
After a fifteen-minute break and four more NGs, Matthew managed to complete the scene more smoothly.
"You can go remove your makeup now," the assistant director told him.
Matthew took a sip of water as Helen Herman approached.
"You go get your makeup off," Helen said simply. "I'll come to the makeup trailer to talk with you."
Matthew then headed to wardrobe to change back into his clothes and walked to the makeup trailer, where many of the now-unneeded extras were also headed. Unlike them, Matthew didn't need to queue; he went straight to the trailer where he'd been made up that morning, greeted by a specialized makeup artist.
Inside, the effeminate male makeup artist wasn't there, and the female assistant asked, "Should I call him?"
"No need."
Remembering the note and his discomfort with the overtly effeminate artist, Matthew opted for the female assistant's help instead.
Removing the complex makeup took a while, but once clean, Matthew felt refreshed and stretched leisurely.
"Thank you," he said politely as he left the trailer.
He hadn't walked far when he saw someone in barbarian costume apparently waiting for him.
Matthew studied him closely, confirming he didn't know this person.