The soundstage was buzzing with activity, everyone moving quickly as if time itself were pressing down on them. Yesterday had marked the shooting of the very first scene—a symbolic start.
When Guo Fan followed Ivanka inside, the set was already in full motion. Assistant directors darted back and forth, while crew members carefully arranged props exactly where they were needed.
Ivanka led Guo Fan straight to Gilbert. Spotting him, Gilbert raised a brow in mild surprise. "Aren't you on break today? Why didn't you go out and enjoy yourself?"
Guo Fan scratched his head. "I wanted to study seriously."
Gilbert chuckled, cutting through his façade with ease. "Oh, come on. Don't play modest. You're just curious and wanted to take a peek."
"Uh…" Guo Fan paused, then nodded sheepishly. He couldn't deny it. Curiosity had dragged him here. After all, he'd never seen Gilbert at work before—who wouldn't be curious?
Film sets weren't exactly vaults of secrecy. Back when The Lord of the Rings was filmed, crowds had gathered to watch. One more onlooker like Guo Fan hardly mattered.
Besides, this was long before smartphones made it easy to leak footage. Cameras were cumbersome, and even if something was recorded, a raw scene was only a fraction of the production. Post-production still shaped the final vision.
The first scene on the schedule today was also the very first shot of False: Tom Hanks, playing Ido Dash, sketching postage stamps inside a prison cell.
To prepare, Tom Hanks had spent an entire week practicing the bizarre craft of drawing with a sharpened fish bone.
Before filming, he told Gilbert, "Back in high school I studied drawing. Later, when I was at California State University, I even joined an art club. For this movie, I hired a teacher to help me learn how to illustrate and even replicate U.S. currency. But never in my life did I think I'd be using a fish bone and chipped paint scraped off prison walls to draw a stamp."
Gilbert grinned. "Ido, if you don't want to do it, I can always bring in a double."
"No way," Tom Hanks immediately waved his hand in refusal. "If I'm going to play a great forger, then I need to forge it myself. Besides, I've practiced far too long to let it go to waste."
When the cameras rolled, the scene unfolded in a single, seamless take. With a fish bone and crude pigments from the cell wall, Hanks painstakingly created a stamp.
The tiny piece looked flawless. Every detail was sharp, almost indistinguishable from the real thing. Within the story, Ido Dash used it to send out a letter successfully.
Why not just use a real stamp? Because in prison, stamps were expensive, and Ido Dash had no money. Counterfeiting was his only option.
Right from the opening scene, the film made his traits crystal clear: meticulous, steady-handed, and an unparalleled master of forgery.
After the shot, Gilbert turned to Ivanka. "Keep that stamp safe. Tom Hanks painted it himself. It may come in handy."
"Understood." Ivanka carefully placed the letter with the counterfeit stamp into a small box for safekeeping.
The prison sequence was shot entirely on set. In fact, aside from certain outdoor locations, most of the film would be filmed indoors. The crew only needed to travel to Canada and Mexico for select exteriors—the rest could be done right here in Los Angeles.
For Guo Fan, spending a day shadowing the False crew was an eye-opening crash course. He witnessed firsthand how a major director's set operated.
The secret was efficiency. Efficient communication, efficient handoffs, efficient staging—everything was prearranged. If the actors were in top form, the progress moved at lightning speed.
Though The Adventures of Jackie Chan was also technically a Hollywood production, it was clear that Alfonso Cuarón and Tsui Hark didn't command their set with the same iron grip Gilbert had.
It made sense. On The Adventures of Jackie Chan, when Gilbert wasn't around, the real authority was producer Stephen Schmidt. He represented both Gilbert and the studio, and both directors had to follow the pre-approved shooting plan. Even editing decisions weren't theirs to make.
Jackie Chan held some sway, particularly with action choreography—his team handled all the fight sequences. But when it came to narrative and editing, even he had little say.
Guo Fan only realized the contrast on his way back to the hotel, replaying the day's lessons in his mind.
Meanwhile, Li Haoyang had gone to Chinatown with the other three. They returned disappointed. The Chinese food they'd found was greasy and strange—far from the flavors of home. To make it worse, a few immigrants, upon hearing the group was from China, had given them looks filled with open disdain.
As Li Haoyang put it, "These people spend their days scrubbing dishes and picking trash abroad, yet somehow think they're superior."
Guo Fan chuckled. "Didn't I read in a magazine that dishwashing in America buys you a mansion, donuts, and fried chicken every day?"
"Bullshit!" Li Haoyang snapped, his irritation flaring again. "That so-called Chinese food in Chinatown wasn't authentic at all. Sure, donuts and fried chicken are cheap—but who knows if the chicken's diseased?"
After venting, he turned to Guo Fan. "So, where did you go today?"
"I spent the day at the False set," Guo Fan answered honestly.
"No way. You actually got in?" Li Haoyang blinked, skeptical.
"Of course I did. Ivanka brought me inside. I even watched an Oscar-winning actor perform live. Can you believe it? He was sketching with a fish bone!"
Guo Fan had never been the type to keep things too grounded. If he had been, he never would've gambled on science fiction back in his past life, when the genre was considered far-fetched and unsellable.
Now, freshly graduated, still brimming with youthful fire, he spoke with animated gestures and excitement shining in his eyes. His voice carried a distinct bubbly lilt, unique and unforgettable.
After listening to the whole story, Li Haoyang couldn't help but feel a pang of regret. "Damn. Had I known, I wouldn't have gone with Ma Qiang and the others. I should've stuck with you."
"Speaking of which—where are they now?" Guo Fan asked.
"They decided to hit up a bar," Li Haoyang replied.
"And you didn't go along?" Guo Fan raised a brow.
Li Haoyang shook his head firmly. "We're back to work tomorrow. Showing up hungover? Not a chance. Besides, bars don't exactly scream safe to me."
And he was right. The very next morning, when Guo Fan and Li Haoyang checked in on set, Ma Qiang was nowhere to be found. Concerned, they asked the other two what had happened.
One of them explained, "We went out drinking with some of the senior crew. After a while, Qiang just disappeared. Later, we found him in an alley behind the bar. He'd been beaten up, and all his valuables were gone."
Li Haoyang sighed knowingly. "Figures. He probably tried to hit on some local girl, and her boyfriend caught him. Got what was coming."
Guo Fan, aware of Ma Qiang's recent obsession with foreign girls, frowned in curiosity. "But didn't Catherine say his… equipment was too small?"
That comment froze the room. The other three turned their heads sharply toward him.
Li Haoyang clapped a hand on Guo Fan's shoulder. "Careful. Don't you ever mention that to Ma Qiang. He'll lose it. You can insult a man any way you like, but not there. Especially him."
By then, Ma Qiang was already lying in a hospital bed. The production team, cold as ice, had made it clear: the incident was his own fault, and he'd be footing the medical bills himself.
.....
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