STS Ch-47

“Tell me honestly, kid, did you really write it by yourself?” Al Pacino asked, wonder creeping into his voice as he studied my face.

I nodded, a grin spreading across my face. “Of course. I just had this idea while I was writing my first script. I made a few major mistakes in it, which meant I had to do some serious rewrites. At some point, I started wondering what it would be like if I could go back in time and do it all again. Then I thought, what if I made another mistake the second time too? I told myself that if that happened, I’d be stuck reliving the same day over and over until I finally got it right. I couldn’t get the idea of reliving the day out of my head. Then later, I saw a TV movie on a similar concept, and I knew that I had to give it my own spin.”

For a second, Al just stared at me. Then he stepped forward, gripping my shoulders with both hands, his eyes bright with excitement. “You’re a fucking genius.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “I don’t think so.”

“You are,” he insisted without hesitation. “This script’s way too good. In fact, I love it so much that I’d buy it from you. Age up the protagonist to suit me, and I’ll be your lead.”

I raised an eyebrow, leaning back slightly. “You don’t even know if I’m any good at directing.”

He cocked his head to the side, considering me like a puzzle he already knew the answer to. “I’ve got a feeling you are. I’m an excellent judge of character and skill. You might not be the best director yet, but we can always hire an experienced DP, and that problem’s solved.”

An offer like that, coming from one of the biggest stars of this era, was dangerously tempting. The moment Al Pacino’s name got attached to the project, funding would fall into place. Even my stepfather, who’d turned me down before, would suddenly be willing to overlook his company’s internal policies and hire me as the director.

With Al Pacino onboard, this film was practically guaranteed to be a hit. After that, getting funding for future projects wouldn’t be a problem at all.

And yet, as tempting as it was, I knew I couldn’t accept it.

“Do you know Frank Price?” I asked instead.

“Of course,” Al said, nodding. “Met him a few times. Nice fella.”

“He’s my stepfather.” When his eyebrows shot up, I continued, keeping my tone steady. “I only found out about him recently, and we’re not close in the traditional sense. I’m telling you because he offered me something similar, along with backing from Columbia Studios. But I turned it down. I want to make this my way, on a small budget. So if your involvement means turning you into the protagonist…”

Al didn’t need me to finish. He was a smart man and immediately backtracked.

“I get it, kid,” he said, his voice softening as he rubbed his forehead, thinking. “Alright. I’ll do it. I’ll play the cameo as your father. But mind you, I won’t promote the film at all. No interviews. Nothing.”

I beamed. “Of course. I just want you as an actor. I’ve really wanted to work with you.”

He chuckled, pointing a finger at me. “Give me a more substantial role in your next film, and then we’ll talk.”

I inclined my head in agreement and started to get up. Just as I did, Al reached out and stopped me at the last moment.

“I’ve got a suggestion for this film,” he said. “If you want it to be a bigger commercial hit, you should add a little sex to it.”

I frowned, folding my arms. “I made this film because I didn’t want to be typecast in sex-themed roles, which is exactly what my first three films are known for. On top of that, this is a PG film, not R-rated.”

“I get that,” he said, nodding patiently. “But think about it logically. If you were reliving the same day again and again, wouldn’t you want to have a lot of sex? You’ve already implied that the protagonist’s done it through dialogue, but film’s a visual medium. It doesn’t have to be graphic. Keep it PG, but show it. In one scene, you are kissing a girl passionately, then it cuts to you both sleeping under the sheets, she covered up to her neck. It’s simple but effective. That’ll also make it a lot easier to sell the film to a major studio.”

I opened my mouth to argue, then shut it just as quickly.

He wasn’t wrong. Sex would probably be the first thing any young man would do if he had the chance to relive the same day endlessly. And if there was one thing I truly hated about this era of filmmaking, it was the studios’ obsessive reliance on sex to sell movies. It reminded me of HBO decades later, where nudity felt less like storytelling and more like a checklist item.

“As far as ratings go,” Al continued, “you can get away with a lot if you stick closely to the MPA system.”

That part was true as well. There was no PG-13 yet, which meant some films that would’ve easily earned that rating in the future were certified as PG in this era. Movies routinely got away with a handful of swear words, a fair bit of violence, and even nudity, as long as it wasn’t sexual. PG-13 wouldn’t exist until the mid-eighties, or maybe later. I’m not sure about that.

“I’ll think about it,” I said at last. “You’re making some valid points. I just need to see if something like that can even fit into the film.”

We parted ways soon after, and I started walking back toward my place. Despite the beautiful sea view in front of me, my mind ran through the conversation I’d just had.

Making a movie wasn’t just about telling a story. It was about compromises, expectations, and invisible lines you weren’t supposed to cross. I wanted this to be a family film, something everyone could enjoy together. But if I ignored the so-called commercial elements Al was talking about, I might not be able to sell it to distributors at all.

I’d have to walk a fine line, balancing what I wanted as a filmmaker with what studios and audiences expected, without losing the heart of the movie in the process.

(Break)

I twiddled my thumbs nervously as Julie flipped through the pages, her eyes scanning the changes I’d made to the script.

“You’ll still be fully covered,” I said quickly. “There won’t be any nudity for you. But Al Pacino suggested I add this part.”

She nodded, barely hesitating. “It makes sense. Any boy reliving the same day would want to have sex with different hot girls.”

“So you’re open to the idea?” I asked.

She shrugged. “I did The Blue Lagoon with you. You really think I’d have a problem with a PG-level sex scene?”

I inclined my head. “Fair point. Okay, there’s just one more thing.”

“What?” Julie asked, frowning slightly.

“I want you to help me rehearse every scene in the movie and correct me whenever I’m doing something wrong,” I said, enunciating each word carefully. “Since I’ll be directing too, I can’t afford to mess up while we’re filming.”

She hummed, tapping the script against her palm. “And since it’s the director’s job to call out mistakes, you won’t be able to do that for yourself. That’s why you need me to guide you.”

“Bingo,” I said, nodding. “You’re the best actor I know here, aside from Pam, and I’m not asking her. She’s already scandalized that we’re making a movie instead of a play.”

Julie laughed, then nodded. “Alright. Let’s do it. We’ll start in the order you plan to shoot the scenes.”

“We’ll shoot all the exterior scenes first,” I explained. “It’s going to start snowing in December, and the story takes place over a single day. If there’s no snow on the first day of the shoot, there can’t be snow on the last either.”

She nodded again. “That makes sense. You really are a great director for thinking that far ahead.”

I smiled. “Thanks.”

I picked up the script and opened it to the first scene we’d planned to shoot the next day.

(Break)

Tessa couldn’t believe she was actually doing this.

All her life, she’d wanted to be a filmmaker, and now, barely one semester into college, she finally had a foot in the door. She wasn’t directing, and she wasn’t behind the lens as a DP, but being a camera operator was more than good enough for now.

“You ready for this, kid?” Jordan Duncan, the Director of Photography, asked, his tone serious as he carefully inspected her camera setup.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Tessa said, her voice steady. “Mr. Gardner explained my duties perfectly.”

Jordan nodded. “That’s what I like to hear. Your setup looks fine for now. The rest depends on how well you shoot.”

When Tessa had first told her parents she wanted to become a filmmaker, they’d asked her one question: “Can you name a single great female filmmaker?”

No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t. She didn’t know a single famous one. That had been her parents’ way of pushing her toward a safer, more conventional path.

But Tessa hadn’t backed down.

So what if there weren’t any great female filmmakers yet? She’d be the first. Even if she had to start small.

“While shooting, the one thing you’ve got to keep in mind more than anything else is light exposure,” Jordan said, slipping into lecture mode. “Since we’re outdoors and it’s morning, we don’t need artificial lights. But we’ll still use reflectors to make sure the actors are properly lit without overexposing them.”

“That’s why the white thermocol sheets,” Tessa said, gesturing toward the two crew members standing a few feet away from the starting point of the scene, both gripping massive white boards.

“You catch on fast,” Jordan said with a pleased smile. “We could use white cloth or paper too, but thermocol’s lightweight, cheap, and stays straight. We’ve also got boom mics above the actors to record dialogue. Your job as the camera operator is to make sure neither the reflectors nor the boom mic ends up in the frame. If they do, we reshoot, which wastes a lot of film and daylight. There’s no workaround for that.”

Tessa nodded in understanding. She felt a little pressure to give it her best. If she messed up, they could replace her with some other student as well, and she didn’t want that at all.

Once Jordan had finished explaining everything she needed to know, he walked back to his original position near the other camera, which was being operated by a senior student.

“Are we all set?” Noah asked, looking toward Mr. Gardner, who was acting as the line producer and issuing instructions to other students across the set.

“We are,” Mr. Gardner replied.

Noah nodded and walked over to Tessa, stopping just beside her camera.

“All good?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said, nodding.

“You’re probably wondering why I want you and Matthew shooting the same scene from different angles.”

She was, actually.

“If the angles are different enough, we can reuse the footage during different time loops,” Noah explained. “It’ll make the audience think we shot the same scene multiple times, instead of using the same shot from multiple angles. So don’t think for a second that your role isn’t important. It is. I believe you’re going to do some great work today.”

Without realizing it, Tessa straightened her posture, warmth spreading through her chest as confidence replaced her nerves.

Noah gave her a single nod before moving on to the next crew member, the boom operator. One by one, he made his way through the set, checking in with everyone and briefly talking them through their roles.

Tessa couldn’t help but look at him in amazement. Noah Hunter was truly an enigma.

When Tessa first heard he was making a movie, she’d assumed he was a spoiled rich kid with money to burn. After all, who else drove a Porsche at that age?

That assumption was shattered after she spoke with the film’s female lead.

“He’s not rich,” Julie had told her. “At least, he wasn’t until last year. He’s earned a decent amount recently, but he’s poured all of it into this movie and his education. Even his car is on loan. If this film fails, he’s going to be in serious financial trouble.”

That revelation didn’t make Noah seem rich. It made him seem reckless.

Why else would someone risk everything on a movie?

Still, watching him move around the set, encouraging each crew member and treating their work like it mattered more than the world itself, earned him Tessa’s respect. Eventually, Noah took his mark and looked toward the camera.

“Alright, camera!”

That was her cue.

Tessa pressed the record button, her hands steady as the camera began to roll.

“Action!” Mr. Gardner called out, since Noah had already slipped fully into character.

He stepped out of his dorm building and into Harvard Yard, where dozens of students filled the frame as extras. Every one of them sat or moved in carefully planned positions, each performing a specific action to bring the campus to life. A small group of musicians strummed a guitar and sang softly on a nearby bench. A boy knelt in front of a girl, ring in hand, only for her to slap him and storm off. Another student stumbled while carrying a towering stack of books, sending them tumbling across the path in every direction.

Noah walked straight through it all, expression neutral, until someone called out from behind him.

“Hey, Bill!”

Noah, playing Bill, turned around and came face to face with the boy who’d shouted. “Hey, Ron?”

The two launched into an absurdly complicated handshake, fingers intertwining in a secret pattern before ending it with a sharp fist bump.

“Where were you last night?” Bill asked. “I was looking for you everywhere. You missed my birthday party.”

Ron rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly uneasy. “I had a ton of assignments to finish, and, well…”

His eyes drifted past Bill to a girl walking a few yards away. She stopped to talk to one of her friends, laughing softly. Tessa gently panned the camera toward her, catching the moment and the way Ron’s face softened at the sight of her.

Bill let out a sigh. “Don’t tell me you were finishing Betty’s assignment for her. That girl doesn’t give a shit about you.”

“Hey,” Ron protested. “Not everyone can be a star athlete and a chick magnet. Some of us have other qualities.” He watched Betty for a second longer, longing written all over his face, then turned back to Bill. “Do you think you could help me with her? Maybe put in a good word?”

Bill started walking away, already checking his watch. “Some other time, pal. I’m late for swim practice, and the coach’ll kill me if I’m any later.”

He waved back at Ron as he took a few more steps, then promptly crashed into a fat student coming from the opposite direction. The collision sent both of them tumbling to the ground. The boy was easily one of the biggest students Tessa had seen on campus.

“Can’t you watch where you’re going, big guy?” Bill snapped as he scrambled to his feet. “I’m already late!”

The larger student avoided eye contact, staring down at his shoes as he muttered an apology. He stood up and walked away without another word.

Bill had barely taken a few steps when a girl hurried up to him, notebook clutched to her chest.

“Bill! Just the guy I was looking for,” she said brightly. “I need an interview with you for our next edition of—”

“I’m late,” Bill cut her off and broke into a run toward the swimming pool area, weaving through the crowd and not stopping for anyone this time.

“Cut!” Jordan shouted loud enough for the entire Yard to hear.

Tessa stopped recording as Noah jogged back to his starting position, still full of energy as if he had not just done all of that in one single take.

“How was it?” Noah asked Mr. Gardner. “Do we need to redo it?”

“It was good,” the older man said after a moment. “But it was pretty basic. We won’t know for sure until the film’s developed.”

Noah cursed under his breath, then said aloud, “On my last film, we had a video tap so we could review the footage immediately. Guess we don’t have that luxury here. We should shoot it a few more times, just to be safe.”

“Right choice,” Gardner agreed.

Noah, Ron, and the other actors returned to their starting positions to reset the scene from the beginning.

Tessa knew filmmaking required patience, but watching the same scene play out again and again tested hers. They had to reshoot twice because other actors flubbed their lines, then ran the scene two more times purely as a precaution. When she thought about it, they’d actually shot the moment ten times in total, considering both cameras were rolling simultaneously.

“Alright, guys,” Noah called out. “We’re doing the same scene again, but this time it’s my second loop. Everyone behaves exactly the same. Same movements. Same dialogue.”

The extras repositioned themselves carefully, slipping back into place like pieces on a chessboard, until Mr. Gardner finally called out, “Action.”

This time, Noah walked with a faint look of confusion, his brow furrowed just enough to register. He ran into Ron again.

“Hey, Bill!”

Noah didn’t ask about the missed birthday. Ron filled that gap himself, stumbling through his explanation before glancing longingly at his crush. Noah only half listened, his attention drifting to the world around him. The musicians sang the same song. The girl slapped the boy. The books spilled across the path in the exact same way as before.

Everything repeated itself perfectly.

“Are you even listening to me?” Ron asked, irritation creeping into his voice.

Noah snapped back to him and shook his head. “Some other time, Ron. I’ve got… swim practice. See ya.”

He took off, colliding with the same large student again.

“Great,” Noah muttered as he scrambled up, barely sparing the guy a glance this time.

When the girl with the notebook approached him, Noah picked up his pace, dodging her completely until he disappeared out of frame.

“Cut!”

Noah jogged back to the starting position to reset for a safety take.

Watching him work, Tessa realized just how committed he was to the process. Whether he was acting or directing, he gave everything he had. He wasn’t the best actor she’d ever seen, but he was solid. Dependable. He sat comfortably among the above-average performers, good enough to carry a scene without ever stealing it.

Then again, she reminded herself, these scenes were still fairly simple. Only time will tell if Noah will be able to continue the same level of performance until the end of the shoot, or take it one level further.