"The lighting—I need this end of the alley to feel darker, colder, more oppressive. Got any good ideas?"
"Mr. Meyers, we could add an extra layer of green-tinted filter glass."
"OK, do it."
"Props, props! I need more trash—here, here, and over here. Fill up all the garbage bags with junk!"
"I'll get right on it—oh, Mr. Arthur."
This scene was to film Arthur's alleyway beating—the scene.
Before the cameras rolled, Martin deliberately pulled aside the actors playing the street punks. "If you guys don't know how to act it, then just hit me for real."
The insurance company rep assigned to the set rushed over. "No injuries! Absolutely no injuries! And if you can avoid hitting for real, don't hit for real!"
Martin grinned. "John, I'll protect my… sensitive parts. You don't have to worry so much."
In Hollywood, having insurance involved in a film shoot was standard practice.
Since the early 20th century, the marriage of the insurance industry and Hollywood filmmaking had been a fact of life. From low-budget silent films to massive blockbusters, the insured amounts had only grown larger over time.
Take Meyers Pictures' Bourne Again 4 as an example: during production, Matt Damon had a total of fifteen stunt doubles—not because he didn't want to do his own stunts, but because, as one of the world's top ten highest-paid actors, the insurance company simply wouldn't allow him to take unnecessary risks.
Some say the people Hollywood actors fear most aren't directors or producers—it's the insurance companies.
And there's truth to that. [1]
Martin was the kind of actor insurance companies both loved and hated.
They loved him because he'd almost never been injured and had never caused a shoot to be delayed or shut down.
They hated him because he liked doing real fight scenes. If not for his spotless safety record, the insurer's on-set rep wouldn't put up with his "recklessness."
…
As time passed, most of Little Clown's exterior scenes in New York had been completed.
Today, they were filming what, in the original timeline, would become one of the most iconic shots in cinema history—the "silent limbs" performance.
Yes—the scene where Arthur takes off his clothes.
For anyone who hasn't seen it, it's hard to imagine how an actor could convey such complex emotion from nothing more than a bare back.
It had to be said—Joaquin Phoenix's performance in the original timeline was nothing short of perfect.
But Martin… Martin wanted to surpass perfection.
"Scene one hundred and twelve, take forty-six—action!"
At Todd Phillips' cue, Martin slowly walked into frame and sat down on the bench in the dimly lit changing room. He began to undress, baring his gaunt, bony frame.
He leaned forward; his spine protruded one vertebra at a time, ribs jutting out like the wings of some demon, starkly visible under the skin.
"Christ… Even though it's not my first time seeing Martin after he's lost the weight, it still shakes me every time," Daniel murmured, sucking in a sharp breath.
Chris Pratt nodded, genuine admiration in his voice. "That's professionalism. Especially for someone of Martin's stature to still throw himself into a role like this. What excuse do the rest of us have to slack off?"
Martin kept moving.
He stretched out his skin-and-bone arm, picked up a shoe from the floor, adjusted its laces and insole, and let out a sudden, involuntary, high-pitched cackle.
With each motion, the skin over his ribs shifted. A single beam of dim light from the window illuminated his back, and for a moment, it was as if those demonic wings were beating…
The chill of the setting, the twisted limbs, the piercing laughter—this was the kind of image that bypassed reason and went straight to the soul, pressing a heavy, ink-dark loneliness into the heart of every onlooker.
"Cut!"
Todd Phillips let out a low sigh. "Martin… I can only say—perfect."
The scene wasn't long, but in the original timeline it was one of the most unforgettable moments in the entire film.
Martin was confident that his performance would raise it to a new height—especially after seeing the playback.
In both physical expression and emotional layering, he had surpassed Joaquin Phoenix's original.
And with his uniquely "seductive" magnetism…
He was certain he could draw the audience fully into Arthur's mind and detonate, within each viewer, a bomb called "loneliness."
…
Agence France-Presse: "Following a recent surge in attacks over Quan Hai's negative image, McCain shifted his campaign strategy in Virginia and North Carolina—two traditionally Republican strongholds. The Arizona senator stated: 'We have twenty-one days left. We're six points behind, but the national media has already written us off.' He accused his opponent of measuring the White House drapes already…"
La Stampa (Italy): "When McCain was taken prisoner, the treatment he received may not have been as brutal as he has claimed—in fact, the [South] Vietnamese army may have saved his life. This revelation could impact his image as a war hero…"
Media Roundup: "In fifteen days, Quan Hai and McCain will face off in their final presidential debate. For the first time, the two will share the same stage and sit side by side, forcing a close, direct exchange. Veteran CBS news anchor Hiko Gang pledged that he would not allow either candidate to dodge tough questions…"
Entertainment Weekly: "Reports say that Joker filming is proceeding smoothly. According to an insider, Martin's interpretation of the role will surpass even his performance in The Dark Knight. In the source's words: 'Martin is pushing his acting to the absolute limit…'"
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[1]: (Editor's note for context: In the U.S. film industry, a major part of production insurance is "cast insurance." If an actor or director is unable to work due to injury, illness, or other causes, the insurance company must compensate for the additional costs incurred to complete filming.
For example, the Fireman's Fund Insurance Company has insured over 80% of Hollywood films. In a 2008 report, they noted that for a $100 million film, if an actor's illness shut down filming for a single day, the production could receive $1 million in compensation.
Cast insurance, considered the baseline necessity for every movie, is also often the single largest insurance expense, with premiums typically 3%–5% of the coverage amount. If filming halts, the insurer faces huge liability.
If your risk is deemed too high and they refuse to insure you, no director will dare hire you.
Case in point: Nicole Kidman. In 2000, she injured her knee while filming Moulin Rouge. The insurer had to pay out $3 million. Later, while shooting Panic Room, where she was cast as the lead, her old injury flared up, nearly causing the production to collapse. The insurer faced a potential $54 million payout and ended up paying $7 million after replacing her with Oscar winner Jodie Foster. After that, Kidman became one of the least popular names among insurers. Her career took a hit, and to secure her role in Cold Mountain, she had to personally pay $1.5 million in guarantees to get insured.)