….
[LIE Studios | Eighteenth Floor]
On the long table, three stacks of folders lay arranged in parallel columns.
To the left were resumes from NYU Tisch and USC Cinematic Arts, in the center were experienced mid-tier guild coordinators backed by major agencies, and to the right was the thin pile of candidates who had survived the second-stage screening by the newly established Script Evaluation Team.
Samantha Cross sat at the edge of the table.
"That was candidate number twenty-four." she said, making a slash of red ink across the top margin of the folder in front of her–
"And if I have to hear one more candidate tell me that they want to be your assistant director because they 'vibe with your visual language,' I am going to have Rock escort the next person directly out of the building."
"Haha…"
Sitting on the low leather sofa across from her, Regal Seraphsail let out a chuckle.
"They're trying to impress me, Samantha, which is the point of the interview." Regal continued. "However, they seem to forget that they can't score a goal every minute, and a good pass can also be considered impressive."
Samantha nodded, understanding the analogy. "They think it's too simple to make a good pass, and solely focus on sourcing. And it is true that scoring is the best way to leave the best impression, but trying too hard can also lead to leaving the opposite impression."
Her eyes narrowed as she looked at the remaining folders. "They look at Lena Crawford stepping from the AD slot straight into the director's chair for [Order of the Phoenix], and they think it's a template. And they think if they carry your clipboard for twelve months, they get a hundred-million-dollar franchise handed to them on a silver platter. They don't understand that Lena survived three years of television deadlines and edit-room brawls before you ever gave her that shot."
She set her pen down with a dull, hollow clack against the wood.
"An assistant director on our sets isn't a prestigious title, Regal, and the person sitting in that chair needs to be a general, not a fan."
"Which is why we're still here at six in the evening." Regal smirked. "Who is next?"
Samantha sighed, pulling the very last folder from the right-hand stack.
"Gavin Roy. Twenty-four and no agency representation, or formal film school degree. He dropped out of a state college in Oregon after two semesters. According to his logs, he spent the last three years working as a utility grip and camera assistant on independent horror shoots in East LA–
"His salary requirements are... well, they are practically non-existent. But Elara Vance flagged him personally."
Regal nodded. "Then hopefully, this one might turn out good."
"Well, let's see…" Samantha tapped the intercom button. "Rock. Send in Gavin Roy."
A moment later, the heavy double doors of the office swung open.
Gavin Roy was tall and slightly raw-boned, wearing a dark green corduroy jacket over a plain gray t-shirt, and he carried a bag over his shoulder.
"Take a seat, Gavin." Regal said, gesturing to the empty chair across from his desk.
"Thank you." Gavin walked over, and dropped into the chair.
Samantha leaned forward. "Mr. Roy. I have reviewed your submission. Your short film, [The Long Corridor], had a remarkably tight pacing. But we aren't hiring a director today. We are looking for an assistant director."
"I am aware…."
"Why should I take you as my assistant director?" Regal asked.
"Hha… " Gavin gave an awkward smile.
"Hm, I don't know…?" He added in a question mark. "Wasnt this interview for an assistant director?"
Samantha's pen stopped clicking instantly; she stared at the young man, her brow furrowing with a sharp, cold disbelief.
"I am sorry?" she said, her voice dropping into a register of dangerous, professional warning.
Gavin slowly turned his gaze toward her with the same awkwardness. "Isn't that why this interview is happening…?
He almost got up from his seat for a second as he looked around in depression. "Am I working my ass off for the wrong interview?"
"No…" Samantha sighed.
"No?" Gavin asked again.
"Yes, you are in the right place." Samantha reassured.
"...oh! Thank god." Gavin sighed in relief.
At that, for two seconds, Samantha looked like she was about to call Rock to have this arrogant dropout thrown out of the window.
But before she could open her mouth–
"Haha..."
Regal was smiling.
He leaned forward, his gaze lingering on Gavin with a bright spark of interest.
"You seem fun to be around." Regal agreed, nodding slowly.
"Regal–" Samantha started, but Regal waved a hand dismissively, his focus entirely locked on the candidate.
"So forget about that." Regal said, his smirk widening as he tilted his head. "What will you do if you don't get selected for the role? You must be having your plans, right?"
This reminded him somewhat of what he had done the other day with Julian.
Once he got to know he is indeed at the right location and hearing Regal's question, the awkwardness in Gavin was lost–
"Hm, well regardless of how this interview results in." He said quite gullibly. "I am gonna make a successful film sooner or later. But the question is if it's after becoming your AD or not. It's just a matter of..."
He paused, his eyes searching Regal's face as if looking for the boundary.
"Go on." Regal smiled, his voice soft, encouraging the weight of the moment to expand.
"...you know?" Gavin continued with the same innocence but confident tone. "I am going to be a successful director for sure. And if I become one after being your AD or not is in your hands. Do you want to brag about a future talent being your AD? Then give me a job. Or if you don't, then... It's okay.
"I won't say anywhere I was rejected by you."
"....."
The absolute audacity of the statement hung in the air of the office.
Samantha sat perfectly still, thinking about the beautiful madness of the interaction.
For six years, she had watched Regal select his circle.
He had cast Keanu Reeves before his career had even begun, backed Darren Hayes when everyone saw him as just a manager, and handed [Whiplash] to Alexander Tobias when he was barely twenty-four.
Regal never chooses safe bets.
And the young man sitting across from them was practically vibrating with riskiness.
Regal slowly opened his system panel–
•-------[NOTIFICATIONS]-------•
[Name:] Gavin Roy
[Traits:] Unyielding, Observant, Sharp-Tongued
[Acting Grade:] D+
[Director Grade:] B+
[Unique Skill:] Temporal Grip (A passive technical instinct that allows the user to calculate the exact physical setup time for a shot list down to the second, eliminating wasted hours on set.)
•---------------------------•
Regal's eyes thinned.
[Director Grade: B+], and a [Unique Skill]?
Regal dismissed the system window with a quiet mental flick and looked at Samantha, who was already watching him with an expression that was half-resigned and half-amused.
She had seen that look in Regal's eyes too many times to doubt what was coming next.
"He comes across as too naively ignorant and arrogant, Regal." she noted, her tone dry but no longer hostile.
"He does." Regal agreed. "But let's go with him. I am too tired to continue today, so we will end the interviews here and give the remaining candidates priority tomorrow."
Then he turned to Gavin. "Hm, Gavin, right? I am Regal Seraphsail. Nice to meet you."
Gavin just stared at him.
"Is there a problem?" Regal asked.
"I was just thinking..." Gavin muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's going to sound hilarious in interviews after I am famous when I tell people I only got selected because you were too tired to interview anyone else."
Samantha stared at him in complete, unadulterated disbelief. At this point, it wasn't even arrogance – it was pure, unfiltered daydreaming.
Feeling the cold glare radiating from Samantha, a drop of nervous sweat formed on Gavin's forehead despite the air-conditioned room. He quickly cleared his throat and extended his hand toward Regal.
"...Nice to meet you, Director."
"Good."
"Now. Do you have somewhere else you want to be? Or I can assume you are free?"
"I am free…"
"Good." Regal pulled a script from his desk. And its title read–
He asked. "What are your thoughts on Zombie film?"
Gavin stared at the bound manuscript with minimalist font of the title:
[Last Train to New York].
"Is that going to be your next film?!!!" Gavin shouted, the fan inside him coming out finally.
"...." - "...." Regal and Samantha just stared at him.
"Heheh…." Gavin grinned sheepishly.
Then he faked, coughed a few times, and added. "A zombie movie?"
"You sound disappointed, Mr. Roy." Samantha tried to pull his leg.
"No, it's not that!" Gavin said, fumbling slightly. "No way a script the director wrote will be an ordinary zombie film! It's just that the Hollywood perspective of zombie films is high time low. Not just zombie films, even horror films that are…."
"You got a point." Regal agreed. "But do you know any reason?"
"It's just… I think most studios are finished with fresh ideas for zombies, and just treat it as a unique selling point, without offering anything new."
Regal tilted his head. "And how do you think we can make it more interesting rather than a repeated formula?"
"...I don't know, director?" Gavin agreed without a shred of shyness. "Is the industry even thinking about any zombie films presently? All most of them are onto making a copy of John Wick and MDCU verse."
"Are they now?" Regal chuckled at blatant directness.
Then he stood up from his desk, his hands tucked casually into his pockets.
"We start principal photography on [Last Train to New York] within a month, Gavin." Regal said. "I will be directing this, and want this film to be filmed in quite a tight schedule, since I have other projects to direct–
"Your contract starts tomorrow morning at 6:00 AM."
Gavin blinked, the reality of the moment finally cutting through his bravado. "6:00 AM?"
"Don't be late." Regal smiled faintly. "We have a train to catch."
Gavin's fingers tightening around his notebook.
He looked at the heavy, white-bound manuscript resting on the corner of the desk like it was a gold bar.
"Can I…"
"Come again?" Regal raised an eyebrow.
"CAN I READ THE SCRIPT PLEASE!! ALSO–"
.
….
[To be continued…]
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