J.C. Chandor completed all of the filming he planned to do in the One Penn Plaza building. Now, he had to shoot the car scene with Ryan and Paul. Both actors sat in the car while it was towed by a process trailer, wearing lav mics to pick up the audio and trying their best in each take due to time restraints.
The car was going through the Queensboro Bridge, the sunrise casting a soft glow on the blue Mercedes. The camera was on the hood of the car, and J.C. gave a thumbs-up to start the scene.
"Alright, Will, am I getting fired?" Seth kept looking side to side, making Will (Paul) uncomfortable.
Will took a pause and then finally said, "Probably…yes…definitely." He lit a cigarette and smoked it.
In the original movie, Penn Badgley played Seth with a kind of subdued sadness, but Ryan, in this scene, interpreted the role as a person who should be on the verge of breaking from bottled-up anger.
"Are you?" Seth looked straight into Will's eyes, creating tension between the two characters.
"No."
Paul wanted to build on this tension, so he said, "For what it's worth, I'm sorry this is happening to you."
Seth knew this fake pity because Will had fired plenty of people before.
"But you're not. Fuck. What am l going to do? All the executives are safe as usual with their private schools, tennis lessons, and trips to the Hamptons. How about me? Waited tables when l was 14. Went to a shitty public school. Huh? How about normal people? What happens to them?"
Ryan's improv performance reached its crescendo as the bottled-up anger was released. But there was also concern for the everyday American that made the viewer sympathize with him.
Any actor could get angry. But Ryan made you feel why—he gave that anger a soul. Beneath that shouting was fear, disappointment, and a deep sense of betrayal.
J.C. watched the monitor without saying anything. This was much different from the audition tape Susan had sent him. Ryan wasn't crying or looking defeated. His face was red, his jaw was clenched, and every few seconds he looked away from Paul as if Seth was embarrassed that he had finally lost control.
Frank kept the camera on him.
Paul sensed that the scene was closing and delivered a powerful monologue in that subdued British accent. "Yeah, it's not fair. But the only reason that they continue to live like kings is because we've got our fingers on the scale in their favor. And if l were to take my finger off… then the world gets really fucking fair, really fucking quickly."
Paul delivered the rest of the monologue with a tour de force that moved Ryan.
Both actors reflected on the scene. The soft hum of the engine filled the silence.
Paul inhaled slowly, and the smoke curled around his fingers.
Man. I thought that Seth was supposed to be more forgiving or less angry. But Ryan played it so real. Yes, he should be mad at Wall Street but also feel betrayed by Will. He should also be worried about the everyday American because he is one. Suddenly, the audience isn't just watching him…they're with him.
Ryan looked at the trailer ahead and was calming himself down after the unscripted meltdown.
Did l do too much? I was relating my own personal experience as Seth but l felt it worked. But that monologue. That was something else.
"Cut!" J.C. finally called.
Ryan immediately looked toward the camera.
J.C. stepped closer to the car while the crew checked the equipment.
"Was that too much?" Ryan asked.
J.C. thought for a second. "No. But let's do another one. Give me half of that anger."
Ryan nodded. "Okay."
Paul took another cigarette from the pack and smiled at him.
"You certainly woke me up."
Ryan chuckled. "Sorry."
"No, don't be. Use it."
They did the scene again. This time, Ryan didn't raise his voice as much. His anger came out through his clenched jaw and the way he refused to look at Will. On the third take, he went somewhere between the two.
J.C. liked all three.
That was something Ryan was starting to understand about filmmaking. There wasn't always one perfect way to play a scene. The director could take pieces of different performances and decide later which version belonged in the movie.
Both actors looked up at the New York sun that hit them in short bursts like paparazzi flashing their cameras.
Since this was an indie film, production was only three weeks, and the rest of the days of shooting went smoothly. J.C. was satisfied with all the performances but was particularly fond of Ryan's. The moment he said, "That's a wrap. Congrats, everybody," he wanted to go straight to the editing booth to edit Ryan's scenes.
Ryan stood around for a few seconds while everyone clapped. He didn't know exactly what he was supposed to do.
Three weeks had felt incredibly short.
He had just gotten comfortable waking up before sunrise, going through makeup, putting on Seth's suits, and waiting for someone to call his name. Now the desks were being cleared and crew members were already talking about their next jobs.
Zachary hugged him.
"You survived."
"Barely."
"First one's done."
Ryan smiled when he heard that.
First one.
The day after, the wrap party was at a converted loft space in Tribeca filled with exposed red brick, low-hanging Edison lights, and cocktails everywhere.
Zachary Quinto laughed with one of the lighting guys over in a dark corner, his usual intensity softened now that the cameras were gone. Kevin Spacey, composed but slightly tipsy, was telling a story about a play he did.
"So we did a performance of The Iceman Cometh for the Democratic Party on Broadway, and President Bill Clinton came. A couple weeks before, a person from the White House said, 'Umm. Listen, it's very unusual for someone to get the President for six and a half hours, so he should just see the first act.' l convinced them that he must come or we would cancel. They agreed. l know why they said that because the play was about someone who is a philanderer and cheats on their wife. The play ends with the man taking his own life because his wife forgave him too much and couldn't live with it."
Kevin looked around at the crew, smiling, and took a brief sip of champagne.
"So now imagine this, there's 2,000 people watching Bill Clinton watching this play. At the end of the night, we take our curtain call, they bring out the presidential podium. And he says"—Kevin went into a perfect impression—"'Well, we should all thank heaven and this extraordinary company of actors giving us all WAY too much to think about.'"
The people around him chuckled at the impersonation and Clinton's response.
Ryan stood nearby with a drink in his hand, listening. Three weeks ago, these people had been actors he knew from movies. Now he knew little things about them that audiences would never see. He knew who forgot lines, who stayed on set after their scenes, who liked to improvise, and who needed complete silence before a take.
That was perhaps Ryan's favorite part of the experience.
The magic hadn't disappeared.
If anything, knowing how much work went into it made him love movies more.
J.C. Chandor stood near the bar, drank a neat bourbon, and thanked the crew members one by one. He approached Ryan with a smile on his face.
"I just want to let you know that whatever happens to you in this industry, you're good. I don't say that lightly."
For once, Ryan didn't have a joke ready.
"Thank you."
"I mean it. Just don't let all the other shit get in the way."
"I won't."
J.C. gave him a pat on the shoulder.
Ryan hugged J.C. and thanked him for this incredible opportunity. The wrap party ended, and Ryan took a train to his hotel room.
He sat beside the window and watched the black tunnels occasionally open up to flashes of New York. His body was exhausted, but his mind was still inside the film.
He thought about his audition.
Susan.
His first day with Zachary.
Watching Jeremy and Kevin.
The bathroom scene.
Paul beside him in the Mercedes.
It had only been three weeks, but he felt like he had learned more about acting than he had in years.
Tomorrow, he would call Mark to ask if any scripts had been sent to him. But tonight, he would savor this feeling: the immense pleasure of doing good work. That's all he wanted to do.
Success is just a byproduct of that. I have been too focused on fame and the awards and comparisons. Just put my head down.
He leaned his head against the train window and smiled.
His first movie was done.