"Scene thirteen, shot four, take one.
Ready…
ACTION—"
This was Tom Cruise's grand entrance as Charlie Dyke. Upstairs, Ido and Mary were still lost in their tender romance when Charlie Dyke suddenly appeared.
Slicked-back hair, radiating the aura of a true boss, Cruise had even designed a little flourish for the scene—holding a wine glass in one hand, sporting a pair of sunglasses courtesy of BOLON.
The brand had paid a cool million dollars for the sponsorship. Of course, there were plenty more: the watch on Charlie Dyke's wrist was Hamilton, while all the costumes came courtesy of the Raymond Brothers Clothing Company of the West Coast. Most of the vehicles, aside from a few plot-specific models, were provided by the largest dealership in Los Angeles.
And that was just the beginning—jewelry, shoes, computers, accessories, endless product placements.
By the time all those little sponsorship deals were added up, the production had raised over twenty million dollars—enough to cover the base salary of any one of the three megastars.
Naturally, the brands weren't stupid. Gilbert plus any one of these three actors was already a royal flush. But with all three in one film? That was a lineup explosive enough to shake the solar system itself.
Success or failure at the box office no longer mattered—attention was guaranteed.
That was why, during fundraising, brands practically begged to throw their products on set, afraid of being left out.
Cruise, for his part, had the swagger nailed. He excelled at this sort of thing—Charlie Dyke was a character practically born to strut and show off.
The first camera caught a sharp angled shot from below, perfectly framing Ido Dash and Mary upstairs as Dyke entered.
Just as the two lovers whispered sweet nothings, Charlie Dyke announced his presence.
"I'm truly moved. The 1950s—four great painters, and every one of their brushstrokes appear together on this single canvas."
That single line not only drew Ido and Mary's attention, but also turned the heads of every guest in the gallery.
Gilbert frowned, unsatisfied. He stopped the take, walked onto set, and studied the distance between Cruise and the painting.
"Charlie, I'm thinking—when you enter the frame, maybe pause for a beat. Walking straight up doesn't quite carry the aura."
Cruise caught on immediately. "So right after I say I'm truly moved, I stop here, point my glass toward the painting?"
"Exactly." Gilbert turned upstairs. "At that moment, your attention shifts directly to Charlie. We'll grab a second angle on Camera Two, so be ready with the reaction."
Tom Hanks and Charlize Theron nodded. They reset and ran the scene again.
The difference was remarkable. Cruise's mastery of swagger was second to none in Hollywood—the aura clicked instantly.
Several shots later came Theron's cue as Mary, storming forward with a wine glass to splash Charlie Dyke.
But during the take, thanks to a misstep in positioning, it was Dustin Hoffman's character, Clahan Ross, who got soaked instead.
Hoffman, an old pro, improvised on the spot: "My dear lady, while I understand your anger, perhaps you might aim more carefully. The man you mean to drench… is over there."
Cruise played along perfectly, raising his hands in mock innocence. The chemistry felt almost like their Rain Man days—effortless.
Theron cracked up, unable to hold back laughter, and the rest of the cast soon followed.
Originally, the wine was meant for Cruise's character. But Gilbert suddenly realized the accident added something.
Mary Cassatt, lashing out in defense of Ido Dash, was so furious she even splashed the wrong man.
That mistake would amplify the contrast later when Ido sacrificed himself for Mary's career, leaving her behind to join Charlie Dyke in counterfeiting.
Gilbert floated the idea to the cast. Hoffman smirked. "Charlie, if I'm taking your punishment, I demand a raise."
Cruise deadpanned, "Rules are rules."
The group burst into laughter, then reset once more.
This time, Dyke was mid-monologue:
"This painting shows me the world is nothing but scraps and leftovers. Humanity has sunk so low, yet every day we're forced to face such filth. It disgusts me to—"
Before he could finish, Theron's Mary Cassatt lunged forward. She snatched a glass from a waiter's tray and, with a fierce forward step, flung its contents—not at Dyke, but squarely at Clahan Ross.
Ross blinked, stunned. "Madam, what on earth—"
Mary cut him off, her fury blazing. She jabbed a finger toward the door and shouted at Dyke, "Get out! You're not welcome here."
Ido Dash rushed to hold her back. "Mary, calm down—"
Through it all, Charlie Dyke never lost his smile. After all, he hadn't been the one drenched. He simply set down his glass and strolled out the door.
Meanwhile, poor Clahan Ross stood caught between them, looking utterly wronged. His expression was pitch-perfect—powerful yet subtle. No wonder he was an Oscar winner.
Ido gently handed Mary over to Mr. Ryan, the patron funding her exhibition, before heading outside to find Dyke and apologize for Mary's outburst.
The scene bled seamlessly into the next, where the two Toms would finally clash head-to-head.
By now, the crew was used to such electric encounters.
Strangely enough, though Ido Dash was clearly written as weaker than Charlie Dyke, whenever Tom Hanks faced off against Tom Cruise, a natural balance seemed to emerge.
Charlize Theron noticed it too. During a break, she turned to Gilbert. "Your casting is brilliant. To get both Toms in one film—Steven Spielberg himself might not manage that."
Gilbert wasn't smug. "That's only because Uncle Steven didn't have The False script. The dual-lead setup demands balance—if one's a megastar, the other has to be too. And honestly, no one in Hollywood tops the two Toms."
Objectively, Keanu Reeves after The Matrix and Johnny Depp after Pirates of the Caribbean might have qualified.
But the two Toms? They were in a league of their own.
Charlize Theron felt truly lucky. "I knew this project was solid—that's why I jumped on it early. By the way, who did you originally plan to cast?"
"Angelina—what do you think?"
"Her?" Charlize shook her head immediately. "She wouldn't fit. Not as well as me."
"You're right." Gilbert toyed with Charlize's elegant fingers, smiling. "You've already got the role, so why bother worrying about others?
But, Sally, I think there's another project that's perfect for you."
"What project?" Charlize asked curiously.
"Well, George Miller is preparing to shoot a post-apocalyptic road film—it's essentially the next installment of Mad Max. The script's already been delivered to Warner, but they're hesitating, unsure if it's worth the investment.
Personally, I think it's a fantastic project, and I've recommended Warner give it the green light. If you're interested, I'll put your name forward for the female lead." Gilbert laid out the situation in detail.
"Mad Max?" Charlize admitted she hadn't seen the originals, but her trust in Gilbert's vision was absolute. "If you think it's good, I'll take it. When would it start?"
"Hard to say. Maybe next year or the year after. George Miller's health isn't great, and he'll need some time to recover." Gilbert explained.
"All right, I'll follow your lead." Charlize rested her head on his shoulder, blissfully content. "Having you around means I don't even need to chase projects anymore."
She wasn't exaggerating. The women around Gilbert always had a steady stream of projects lined up—enough to make the rest of Hollywood's actresses burn with envy.
After all, major roles in big productions usually triggered brutal competition. For actresses especially, the battles were fierce.
Take Charlize's role as Mary, for instance. If it had been put on the open market, A-list actresses would've fought tooth and nail for it. Opportunities to work with both Toms and Gilbert didn't come around every day.
But this role had been locked in for Charlize early on, leaving no chance for others.
The same went for the female police officer role. Too small for the A-listers to bother with, but second- and third-tier actresses had been desperate for it.
In the end, it went to Vera Farmiga. And even before the film had premiered, her long-struggling Hollywood career had already begun to climb to new heights.
Everyone in Hollywood carried their own inner scale, measuring which projects and which lineups practically guaranteed box office success.
And that was why Gilbert had been able to bring the two Toms together.
Imagine Michael Bay trying it—Tom Cruise alone wouldn't give him the time of day. He'd probably mock Bay outright.
As for the Mad Max sequel, Gilbert remembered watching it in his previous life. It had been one of Charlize's most iconic performances.
High-octane action from start to finish, relentless and exhilarating—it was an absolute thrill ride.
The only issue was timing. In his past life, the film had released much later, almost seven or eight years down the road.
From Warner's hesitation, Gilbert guessed the script had originally been shelved for over a decade. Coupled with George Miller's declining health, the project had stalled indefinitely.
But now, with Gilbert's intervention, Warner had started moving it toward active development.
Even so, Miller's health meant the earliest it could start was next year.
That didn't matter, though. Gilbert had already secured the spot for Charlize well in advance.
.....
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