746. Seen another way.
April 3.
...
Moving—coming from thousands of angles. He spun, dodging a whip. It was nothing more than a cotton rope, yet it looked like a rope made of points, and that—unlike the ordinary parts—was a challenge.
—Don’t move —Billy said in character as he leapt from side to side—. He tried not to look staged, despite the irreverent form. His attitude had to show through, heavy with intention and firmly anchored to an Anakin-like persona.
An outstretched hand. Arrogant.
...
The heat clung to his skin, like sand that refused to leave any part of his body. He was now filming the Anakin series, shooting scenes in a desert country that was none other than Tatooine, after the death of his mother, and around the Hutt syndicate—Jabba—who was connected to all his extended family across the galaxy. Meanwhile, the war was beginning to take shape: the inclusion of a man performing the roles of Cad Bane and Asajj Ventress, portrayed by Charlize Theron. Her white skin and her wig were, without a doubt, among the great achievements of the makeup department. The entire production was filled with thousands of applauses and long, drawn-out scenes.
-Look, now I’m a Jedi —Charlize remarked. She was playing the role like smoke; she was good with that darkness so characteristic of her own persona, and she loved action scenes. Though she wasn’t as slender as in other times, her face came alive through blue eyes that would later be changed to yellow in post-production.
-Sith—that’s what the enemies are called —Billy replied, once again channeling all the ideas racing through him. One of them was the blonde’s performance in Hollywood, where fandoms were kept under lock and key because of one rule: you only spoke openly about a project if you were already working on it. Beyond that, it wasn’t good for other projects—IP wars, plot conflicts, and all the things Hollywood kept silent about, including how one was supposed to define oneself.
They both went into the trailer. Charlie took the time to wipe the white makeup from her face and give herself a breath of rest, unwilling to do much beyond that.
For reasons Billy still didn’t understand, the series was being produced at a painfully slow pace, and everything unfolded over the course of ten days, during which filming suggested it would stretch into a full month. The cost, then, was different and had to be carefully measured. Even so, it was a major achievement that the clone scenes were filmed at the beginning and hit the mark.
-We have so many scenes; it looks like we’ll be traveling all over the galaxy —Charlie laughed. She was fully committed to intimidating in her white, low-cut shirt—nothing visible underneath—and tiny denim shorts. Her long, bronzed legs dared anyone to say otherwise, and she was clearly too composed to be completely direct in her actions.
-It seems that’s true —Billy said as he resumed his lightsaber scenes. This time, he would have a five-minute action choreography with Charlize, where their blades would clash and their movements would build what he called an epic battle—right at the moment Obi-Wan appeared. Each year, Anakin’s power was becoming more dangerous for his opponents. Even the smallest opportunity was framed as personal growth, as both leaned into their practiced skills. The job was to show that—how, little by little, the fights became better, sharper, more precise.
-Will you take me out to eat something tonight? —Charlie asked.
-Of course. When we travel to Italy to shoot some good takes, we’ll make a quick trip to a few restaurants. Unfortunately, here I don’t know much beyond the hotel menu —Billy replied.
A small setback: they were both staying in little trailers near the nearby desert. They had only the company of the cast, security, and the books Billy had brought. He usually carried a small library of three books and several blank notebooks. It was common for them to spend time talking, and after an hour, Charlie would cross two doors and enter Billy’s room to talk about everything and nothing. Whatever remained between them was enough.
-I heard you’ve had a lot of work lately; you’re working with Disney now —Billy said.
-I am. In fact, I am. I’ve been working for a long time as what they call a workaholic —Charlie replied, reflective—. It’s sweet, but I’m still just a silly face, the blonde who fills the space.
-Everyone wants a beautiful face now and then —Billy said, preparing some coffee. He liked it with milk when he was about to fall asleep, so he could read calmly—lots of milk, more than caffeine.
He offered her a cup, and she accepted. They both settled for doing the bare minimum: looking at each other in silence. The day’s filming had left them completely exhausted—Billy even more so, from wearing layers of costume and enduring shoots in places that were utterly unpleasant.
-You have a bit of makeup in your hair —Billy remarked.
-Oh, right —she replied simply, unconcerned. Her hair now fell well past her shoulders, and she playfully bit a strand.
***
Anne finished watching all the series and did a simple review to see what the animators were bringing to the table. April was approaching, breathing life into people who were now alive for creation. One Piece—the first film—was, without a doubt, the new production destination. She used different analogies, pirate stories, without touching the main plot.
-Well, now I can say it’s a good series —Anne commented, listening to the strong voice and watching how, in the first twenty minutes, the film came alive and moved. That was why Anne hoped Billy would come up with better ideas for the next movie. But here, what mattered was the act itself; she didn’t consider it the best work. It lacked that spark—one driven and proclaimed by what people were used to—but it was the story, and that was what mattered.
-I want you to tell Billy and give me at least three more films —Anne said—. Oh, you’ll take care of the rest. I want three films and script attempts for next year.
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