Great Actor in Hollywood

"Come here and clean this up," Malcolm said, holding a Modelo. He grabbed the TV remote on the wooden kitchen counter part.

"If you can't do basic shit like this, then you're useless."

I looked up at his grey eyes displaying emotions of disappointment and anger that I was long accustomed to, like gas to a car.

I hate this place. Why can't it end? I just want something. Anything.

I kept running around the house, screaming and shouting until I couldn't do it anymore. I jumped two floors onto the roof, staring at the pretty stars, dancing like a hobo.

Ryan woke up in sweat, and his arms moved frantically like an electric doll. He turned on the lamp and sat on the bed, hands in his face. He looked out his small window, which was blocked by a beautiful sycamore.

***

The months that followed were a lovely time that was filled with the holidays: cramped Thanksgiving with multiple stories overlapping on each other (questions like "How do you get paid?" or my favorite, "How is Tom's Cruise cake?" were asked), a small cozy Christmas dinner that was interrupted by loud barking from the houses nearby, and a large New Year's party which was no fun. It was the quiet conversations with my mom at the dining table, which had the New York Times crossword and burning coffee, which were the most peaceful. The late nights memorizing my lines while she sat silently cheering me on.

Finally, it was time to go to Utah to show a movie that Ryan was proud of. The air was thin, the snow freshly arrived from a recent storm, and the town of Park City buzzed with enthusiasm for the Hollywood stars.

The night began with the cast going to eat at Zoom on Main Street before the premiere the next morning. Kevin arrived in a plain white button shirt, holding a bottle of wine.

"Who's going to celebrate with me? I was just at Variety Studio telling people that the movie is about greed and we all were brilliant." He sat down, cleaning his glasses.

"We have to wake up early, Mr. Spacey," Ryan said.

"I know. I know. This isn't my first Sundance, kid. You have to do press, smile, and try to get the film bought. Easy."

"The last part is the trickiest." Zachary stormed in and sat down, blowing air on his hands. "Who do I want? Probably Sony Pictures Classics. Just not Weinstein. He moves like a fat pig with a golden necklace. I heard some rumors too. 

"Me too. I think the whole industry knows" Ryan added on. 

"They're good, Sony." Kevin interrupted. "They let you have a lot of control. Some of them are blowhards, but they all want the same thing: money. Greedy and ugly. Just like in the movie."

"Just like you, Kevin," Jeremy said with his posh British accent. "It's so cold outside."

"Hello, Sir Jeremy." Zachary grinned and waved to Jeremy to sit down.

"Oh Zach, I thought you were with J.C."

"I was. But come on, is it official?"

"No. I rejected the letter from Her Majesty. They're going to send medieval knights and have an execution in front of Eccles. It was truly a bothersome process to reject it."

"Wait, you were offered knighthood? And you didn't accept?" Ryan asked.

"Of course not. Actors are vagabonds, tricksters, and at worst glorified clowns. We are mirrors. Give me a stage and silence; the rest is easy. No greater reward than the rapt attention of the crew members or an audience. So then, why should I accept it? It's not about my thoughts on the monarchy. Just get the job done and on to the next."

'He's right. It's not only the attention but the emotion that the audience shows after watching a scene. You see them laugh at something you said, or flinch at a jump scare, or even cry—the most intoxicating feeling of it all to see. Not to be rewarded or seen, maybe, but to reach someone. To make the quietest parts of yourself matter to a stranger. Yes, we don't fix bridges, help the poor, or run governments. We are not fucking Gandhi. But we remind people that if you ignore the mirrors for too long, you might just step on a shard of glass. But hell what do I know' 

***

Camila Parker was showing her badge in front of the Eccles Theatre. She saw the audience: a mix of Hollywood insiders in black puffer jackets, a few lucky general public badge holders, and the film cast, who were all dressed properly. Her fingers were red from the chill, but she didn't pull her gloves back on, soaking up the environment.

The house lights dimmed slowly, not abruptly—like the room itself was holding its breath. Camila eased into her seat, third row from the back, left-center. She tucked her coat beside her, her badge now flipped inward. She was ready to see Ryan's performance.

She saw Before the Door and Myriad Pictures Presents in white font. The opening scene shows Seth saying "Is that them?" next to Will and Peter.

'He does look good on screen'

Will says, "Best to ignore it. Come on," and the next moment shows Seth looking down saying, "Umm… am I safe?"

'The high-pitched voice, the droopy shoulders, and the head turned down reminds me of my 7-year-old nephew who could be in trouble and lost at the same time.'

The rest of the audience leans in and is slightly curious about who this actor is. Not too interested, like seeing a cute dog and wondering what its breed is but never asking the owner or searching it up. The next scene is in Eric Dale's office, played by Stanley Tucci, who is told to go to an office. The camera stays on Eric, who in three seconds resigns his fate and surrenders himself to the firm's higher will.

'What a fine actor Tucci is'

All of the audience is impressed by Stanley's masterclass in understated intensity. He doesn't plead or shout when he is told that he's fired but just looks at the cheap "Looking Ahead" pamphlet and says, "Okay." The scene cuts to Seth, who watches people carrying cardboard boxes and trying to avoid the multiple stares.

As the camera lingers on Seth Bregman, the young risk analyst trying to make sense of the chaos unfolding around him, the audience in the Eccles Theatre watches with a kind of respect. Ryan Stone radiates a kind of cold, studied detachment—his slicked-back hair and crisp shirt suggesting confidence and his blue eyes gloating over the weaker links of the machine. It's not what he says but what he holds back. As employees pass by him clutching cardboard boxes—some numb—Seth barely moves. He stiffens his jaw, swallows hard, and pretends not to notice the stares. His posture straightens, his gaze fixes forward, but the camera stays just long enough to catch the tremor at the corner of his mouth. It's the two emotions of the scene that the young actor shows that impress the audience.

From the shadows of the theater, Camila Parker glances sideways at a journalist scribbling something in a notebook: "Not just a pretty face?"A whisper runs through a few rows, and the audience thinks to themselves that it's people like Seth that brought the crisis to their homes. Back onscreen, Seth finally exhales and walks away, brushing past a cleaning lady who doesn't even look up. His pace is quick, too quick. He meets up with Peter and sees Eric Dale approaching them, holding a cardboard box. Peter says, "Sorry this is happening to you?" and Seth says, "Yeah. But I'm good, right?" He looks like he's trying to convince himself and celebrate his own survival in the company.

'I hope he is in more scenes'