"Cut! Damn it, Ryan, you're playing a rebellious teenager, not an eighteen-year-old adult." Cameron stood up from behind the camera and harshly scolded him, "I don't care how precocious you are! Here, you must give me the liveliness, rebellion, and a bit of cynicism that fits your age!"
"I'm sorry, Jim!" Ryan flicked his exaggeratedly large bangs and then vigorously rubbed his cheeks.
After October began, Terminator 2 started filming. Ryan had to take another leave of absence from school. To avoid unnecessary trouble, they simply had Kingsley, in Nicole's name, make a substantial donation to the school. Money makes the world go round, and this is even more evident in a capitalist country. Subsequently, the school readily agreed to his request.
However, this shoot was anything but a pleasant experience. Forget comparing it to the party-like Home Alone set—even the atmosphere on the Sixth Sense crew was far more relaxed. The reason for this? The beardless director sitting in the director's chair.
Now that the investment for Terminator 2 had been increased to $90 million, this enormous figure was not just a mark of prestige—it also brought immense pressure. If it failed, James Cameron wouldn't be able to show his face in Hollywood again. You could easily imagine the kind of mood and temper he was in.
Arnold Schwarzenegger, who had always been close with him, was now acting like a well-behaved dog with its tail between its legs.
Although Ryan remained humble, the tyrant on set had no intention of letting him off the hook. That shot had already been NG'd more than ten times, and his fury meter was about to explode. "Ryan, I don't care if you're a genius writer or Hollywood's most brilliant child star. Now! In Terminator 2, I want you to give me 200 percent effort. The Sixth Sense is already history. If you're still dwelling on past glory—believe me—I will personally hand you over to heaven!"
"You know what, Ryan? Today you're the worst version of yourself I've ever seen. If it weren't for that damn child welfare agency, I would've thrown you into the ocean to wake you up." James Cameron's harsh words continued to fly. If Ryan were just a regular kid, he'd probably be bawling by now.
"Don't mind him. That's just how he is—he doesn't recognize family when he's working." Arnold Schwarzenegger lightly patted his back.
"That's why they call him the tyrant of the set." Ryan shrugged. How could he not know what Cameron was like on set? He had already mentally prepared for this.
"Tyrant of the set?" Schwarzenegger paused for a moment, then nodded in agreement. "That name suits him perfectly."
Could it be that this guy's nickname hasn't caught on yet? Ryan's mouth twitched. Seeing Cameron finally calm down and his expression return to normal, he exaggeratedly sighed and said, "Jim, I remember the crew has a shovel somewhere, right? Can I borrow it?"
"What do you want that for?" the director asked, puzzled.
"To dig a hole by the road and bury myself," Ryan spread his hands with a remorseful look. "After hearing your scolding, I feel deeply ashamed. First, I've let down everyone in the crew. Second, I've let down the people of the United States. Third, I've let down the federal government. I really have no face to meet anyone. Might as well bury myself."
Everyone in the crew burst into laughter. Even James Cameron cracked a smile. This little guy always managed to find the right way to fight back after being scolded—and always in a way that left him speechless.
"Alright, alright, everyone let's move quickly. We've blocked off this street for most of the day. If we keep dragging it out, someone's going to come give us trouble," Mario Kassar pointed at a crowd not far away. "There's another ad crew waiting. If we delay any longer, they'll storm in and take over."
Ryan took the water handed to him by the assistant, drank a sip, and sat down quietly, lost in thought.
"Ryan." At some point, James Cameron had walked over. "In my opinion, your understanding of this film is no less than mine. Do you remember your analysis of John Connor during the audition? Rebellious on the inside but still innocent and kind. That shouldn't be hard for you, right?"
The scene they were shooting today wasn't particularly difficult. It mostly showcased John Connor's rebellious side—arguing with his foster parents, stealing money from an ATM, riding his mini-bike recklessly through the streets. Compared to the acting-heavy scenes from the past few days, these were incredibly simple.
However, no one would have expected that the child genius who had overshadowed Arnold Schwarzenegger and Linda Hamilton in the previous scenes would suddenly lose his edge when it came to these simple shots.
Strictly speaking, Ryan had split most of his past life's memories into two categories: the useful ones he had integrated into his current consciousness, and the useless ones he had buried deep in his subconscious, in the darkest corners. As long as they weren't touched, he might never remember them for the rest of his life.
But while filming The Sixth Sense, the heavy atmosphere and the in-and-out-of-character experience had opened that door. Even though he later broke free of the influence, that door had already been left ajar.
Now, in this moment of quiet reflection, memories from his previous life surged back. Things he had once ignored came back to him clearly. Undoubtedly, this would greatly benefit the rest of the shoot. However, as more and more images resurfaced, could he still remain emotionally stable?
In his consciousness, it felt like a century had passed, though in reality it had only been a blink of an eye. That long-ignored desire suddenly became vividly clear.
No! I'm not an ungrateful bastard! Ryan unconsciously clenched his fists and forced those potentially destructive thoughts back down.
However, even after two lifetimes, he still didn't understand one truth: once a seed germinates, it will eventually grow into a towering tree.
Although NGs were still inevitable, Ryan's state had obviously improved. Some shots even passed in one take. The shooting progress, which had been lagging earlier, began to catch up.
The scenes of the kids racing wildly on mini-bikes were mostly side and rear shots. Naturally, such dangerous scenes involved stunt doubles. Even for the frontal close-ups, Ryan just needed to pose.
Two huge fans started roaring. The wind blowing into Ryan's face made it hard to keep his eyes open, yet he had to force them wide and try his best to look natural. Behind him on the mini-bike sat another young actor holding a boombox. The bike remained stationary, while the camera moved along a track.
With this filming technique, plus some post-production, it would look like two rebellious teens speeding down the street in the final cut.
Today's filming was done. Though they lost time early on, they made up for it later. At least they didn't shoot past sunset.
After changing out of costume, Ryan stepped out of the trailer. The ad crew had already taken over the other half of the street.
After watching from the sidelines for a bit, Ryan was about to leave—when a little girl darted out and blocked his way.
"You… stop right there!"
The little girl couldn't be more than five years old, with rare chestnut-red curly hair, a pouty little face sprinkled with star-like freckles—absolutely adorable.
Ryan scratched his head. He didn't seem to know her.
"You idiot! You kept NG-ing over and over again! You made me wait here all day. Are you trying to make me film my ad when the sun's already fallen into the ocean?" Her voice was still childishly soft, but her sarcasm was ruthless.
Was I really that bad? Ryan instinctively looked up. Though the sun was setting, it was still high in the sky—nowhere near the ocean yet.
"What's your name? Don't think I'm going to let you off that easy!" The little girl puffed up her cheeks and put on an intimidating face.
While Ryan was caught between amusement and exasperation, a couple came out of the ad crew. "Lindsay, it's time to shoot. Go get your makeup done!"
"You can't leave!" Even as the middle-aged woman picked her up, the girl was still protesting fiercely.
"Alright then! I'll go over and see if you mess up any takes, little missy."
Ryan followed behind the couple. He caught a faint whiff of alcohol—it came from the man. Looking at his face—sunken eyes, drooping eyelids, dark circles, and a red nose—he was clearly either a junkie, an alcoholic, or both.
The little girl was shooting a children's clothing ad. It was a very simple shoot—just change into a few outfits, smile brightly, and run down the street.
But for a girl her age, she was truly remarkable. Aside from makeup time, she finished all the front, side, and back shots in just over ten minutes—and without a single NG.
"Interesting!" Ryan looked genuinely intrigued.
"What's interesting?" the assistant next to him didn't get it.
"Don't you think this girl has real talent and potential?"
Before long, the little girl returned in her own clothes, walking over and staring intently at Ryan. "You! Tell me—how are you going to make up for wasting my time?"
"And how exactly do you want me to make it up to you?" Ryan asked in return.
"Hmm~" The little girl pinched her chin and started circling him like a tiny adult. "Buy me two banana splits, and I'll pretend this never happened!"
Slap!
A crisp sound rang out behind Ryan. He turned around and saw the couple—presumably the girl's parents—arguing. The man had slapped the woman hard across the face, snatched her purse, jumped into an old Ford parked by the curb, and sped away.