The sand crunched under Duke's boots as he stepped onto Anza Borrego Desert State Park temporal set, it was 5 pm already.
They were now in the middle of a real California desert.
Union technicians scrambled across, hauling cables and adjusting wooden boxes.
It was 1976.
So no digital screens, so to get a great shot you were better off recording on location.
Duke navigated around a wooden rig, a cup of coffee in his hand.
He stopped near the edge of the set to inspect the moisture vaporators dotting the horizon.
The prop department had built them from surplus aerospace tubes and discarded irrigation pipes.
Hollywood traditionally favored clean science fiction sets, but Duke liked the lived-in dirty aesthetic.
A lighting technician yelled a warning.
The arc lamps struck, flooding the location with an intense orange and yellow light.
The ambient temperature on the floor rose by several degrees.
Duke squinted against the harsh light.
A grip secured an amber-colored gel over the lens.
The specific combination of color filters was designed to create a dry glow, one that would bake any colors out of the film stock.
Near the center of the illuminated dune stood Pierce Brosnan, wearing a wrap-around tunic with wide sleeves, and off-white pants with a utility belt.
The actor paced a tight circle in the sand, muttering his lines under his breath.
A makeup artist with a sun hat stepped onto the sand, dabbing the sweat from Brosnan's forehead with a sponge.
She applied another layer of artificial dirt to his cheeks with a powder brush.
Duke walked over, his boots sinking slightly into the soft sand. Brosnan stopped pacing and offered a nervous nod.
"You look right at home in the dirt, Pierce," Duke said joking.
Brosnan let out a short laugh, wiping sweat from his neck. "I feel like I'm baking in an oven and we haven't even rolled a single foot of film yet."
Duke placed a hand on the young man's shoulder. "Just feel the heat. Remember, you're a restless farm boy who's never left his boring home."
Brosnan nodded, relaxing his shoulders.
He turned his gaze toward the lighting rig, his jawline catching the amber glow perfectly.
The noise of the set died down as the shoot was about to start.
A Panavision PSR camera was locked onto a heavy tripod, loaded with a 1000-foot magazine of Kodak color film.
The camera operator peered through the optical viewfinder.
The first camera assistant pulled a measuring tape from the film plane to Brosnan's nose.
Without video monitors, achieving actual focus required math.
Duke stood behind the camera operator, crossing his arms.
Everyone on the crew knew they were about to capture the very first shot of the production.
The first assistant director, a british guy named Ridley Scott stepped forward. "Settle down, everyone! Roll sound! Roll camera!"
The heavy camera came to life.
A camera assistant stepped in front of the lens, holding the clapperboard. "Scene one, take one."
He snapped the sticks together and ducked out of the frame.
"Action!" Duke called out.
Pierce Brosnan walked slowly from the out of the pod house,
He walked until he reached the tape mark buried in the sand and stopped, staring out into the horizon where 2 suns were.
In reality, the 2 suns were nothing more than the real sun, and a lighting equipment they had arranged to do the trick for the camera.
He lifted his head, narrowing his eyes against the light of the 2 suns.
His face reflected a desire for an unknown adventure.
Duke watched from behind the camera, not even daring to breathe.
The scene required no dialogue.
The emotion relied solely on Brosnan's facial expressions and the score that would eventually be layered over.
Brosnan held the stare for a long moment.
Just simply existed within the artificial environment, reacting to an imaginary alien sky.
The melancholic energy of a young man wanting an adventure translated perfectly through the lens.
Duke let the silence stretch for a few extra seconds.
"Cut!" he finally shouted. "Print that."
The tension in the room vanished, replaced by a quiet celebration.
It was a good sign that the first take of a production went well.
Duke bypassed the camera rig and walked onto the sandy set, a smile on his face. He clapped a hand on Brosnan's dusty shoulder.
"Great job, Pierce."
Brosnan let out a nervous breath.
"Really?" Brosnan asked, his Irish accent slipping through. "I was terrified I was going to muck it up."
Duke laughed. "I knew you had this in you, kid."
The surrounding crew buzzed with energy.
Capturing the first successful shot boosted morale. It proved that the months of pre-production were yielding results.
The late morning brought a break in the shooting schedule.
The camera department needed 45 minutes to lay down tracks for an upcoming dolly shot.
Duke used the downtime to review notes with the director of photography.
Ridley Scott, the first assistant director walked over to Duke with a serious expression. "Duke, could you come look at something near the vaporator base?"
Duke nodded, and they both walked to the plastic prop, leaning down to inspect the paint job on the tower.
A sharp hiss came from the base of the vaporator and a puff of fine sand blasted at Duke's chest and face.
Grips, electricians, and camera assistants started smiling, trying not to laugh at him getting ambushed.
Duke stood frozen, covered from head to toe in fine dirt.
He blinked in surprise, and wiped a thick layer of dirt from his forehead.
He turned to face the laughing crew, trying to showcase a stern glare.
The attempt failed as a grin broke through his dusty face.
"Who rigged that valve?" Duke asked, wiping sand from his jacket.
Pierce Brosnan stepped forward from the edge of the crowd, his face carrying an unapologetic grin.
"The moisture vaporators on Tatooine are temperamental, sir."
Duke wiped another layer of sand off his cheek, letting out a laugh.
"I'm going to remember this, Pierce. Just wait until we film the trash compactor sequence next month.
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chill chapter, will publish another in around 2 hours