Crank In, Part 3
Fourteen-year-old Jasmine grew up in a relatively stable household. Unlike other Black residents in this city who lived in trailers or dilapidated shacks, her apartment had running hot water and a refrigerator that could make ice. On top of that, they owned a television and a VCR, making it possible to rent movies from Blockbuster on weekends. And that wasn't all. Not long ago, her parents had gifted her a very stylish polyester jacket. Having both parents present was a massive blessing for a kid in this neighborhood. The multi-colored polyester jacket, which people said was at the tail end of its trend, had undoubtedly been bought on clearance. But Jasmine didn't care; she always styled it beautifully with jeans. Chewing her bubblegum with a cool, rhythmic pop, she was easily the most popular girl on these streets.
And now, Jasmine's eyes, filled with self-confidence, stretched as wide as the large hoop earrings dangling from her ears.
His proportions are insane.
Her gaze drifted to a man standing at the end of the street. He was a full head taller than everyone else, yet his face was so small it looked as if it might vanish off his shoulders. Standing at the center of the crowd, he chatted quietly before climbing into a large van alongside someone carrying a massive makeup box.
One of her friends, who had been watching the scene unfold, finally spoke, breaking the silence.
"Ah, I knew it! He really is an actor."
"Who is he? Who is he? From far away, his hair color and everything made him look like Sion Lee."
"No way. That can't be Sion Lee."
Rumors that Sion Lee had started filming a movie in Chicago had already spread among those in the know. Early that morning, the girls had gathered after a chain of phone calls—"Hey, I think they're shooting a movie here! Oh my god!"—but they were starting to feel a bit bored by the surprisingly sparse, low-key atmosphere of the set.
Jasmine felt a slight sense of superiority among the girls for being the only one to recognize the actor's "specialness." While the others chatted, yawned, or stared blankly into space out of boredom, Jasmine silently kept her eyes glued to the set.
Before long, he stepped out of the van.
"Oh, he tied his hair back."
"...Wait, is that..."
"Si—Sion! It really is Sion!"
Only then did the girls recognize him, and a chorus of high-pitched squeals erupted. Sion, who had tightly tied back his disheveled hair—likely supplemented with clip-in hairpieces—glanced back at the girls. Feeling embarrassed by her friends' childish behavior, Jasmine spoke up gruffly.
"Guys, quiet down. They're trying to work."
The girls shut their mouths and glanced at each other. Feeling even more smug at their reaction, Jasmine silently watched Sion as he continued preparing for the shoot.
Seeing him constantly talking to the director next to a movie camera made him look like someone from an entirely different world—a world she had never experienced.
And in reality, he was. Generally, people didn't get to watch a movie being filmed this close up. It was only possible because it was an indie film.
Even so, there was a vast difference between the romanticized image of filmmaking and the harsh reality of the industry.
There was a saying in the film industry: Every single frame is money.
A single roll of 16mm film cost roughly $180. Adding the cost of processing, an eleven-minute shoot easily ran up to $250. On top of that were location rental fees, prop costs, and wages for the crew. Burning through cash just to keep the crank turning—that was the collaborative audiovisual art known as cinema.
They had to plan and move with absolute efficiency.
"Today, we're scheduled to shoot Scenes 6, 18, and 39. We'll finish Scene 39 first, and we'll do Scene 6 tonight. Looking at the weather today, I think we'll get a great vibe. Let's work hard."
The voice of the director, Daniel Summit, trembled with tension. It was only natural. This was his first project, his very first shoot. It was a historic moment for him, and he couldn't help but feel the crushing pressure to do well.
James Parker, the cinematographer who immediately picked up on Daniel's anxiety thanks to his years of experience, cracked a joke to ease the tension.
"Let's do this. We've even got our handsome star actor here with us."
Sion chimed in.
"Can you really call me a handsome actor? Right now, I'm the spitting image of Alex."
"Pfft, haha! That's true! Looking at you now, you're definitely not a Hollywood beauty, that's for sure!"
"Man, normally I'm the kind of guy who only stands in front of the camera after a whole team of people crowds around to make me look pretty," Sion joked, teasing the director in a pompous tone. "I'm only going this far because I read your script, Director."
"Whoa, Daniel! Look at that! You've been acknowledged!"
Fortunately, Sion's intention hit the mark, and Daniel let out a chuckle. A bit of the tension dissipated.
"Alright! Let's block this out quickly."
Glancing up at the sky, Daniel decided the sun wasn't quite high enough yet and ordered a rehearsal.
Scene 39, their first shoot of the day, was a scene where the protagonist, Alex, returns to the streets after a long, grueling night. Utterly exhausted, both physically and mentally, he stumbles down the street like a man high on drugs. But no one pays him any attention.
"Broad daylight on the street. Everyone is commuting to work. But Alex is someone who can't blend in. The people on the street ignore him completely. But right now, he's fine. Why?"
"Because he achieved his goal, and he has a fiancée waiting for him at home."
"Exactly. I like that phrasing."
"It doesn't sound like a line the real Alex would actually say, though."
"The nuance is what's important. Alex is *that* kind of character, right?"
Sion nodded, understanding the director's point.
The pre-shoot rehearsal. The director's guidance on how to capture this scene on camera convinced everyone on set. James, who would be holding the camera, also brainstormed how to shoot the scene, while the rest of the crew approached the locals sitting on the street watching them.
"Um, excuse me. We're currently filming a movie."
"If you don't mind, would you be willing to appear in it?"
The reactions of the people who heard this were identical.
"...Huh? Me?"
Their faces practically screamed, What on earth are you talking about? And it was only natural. They weren't actors, yet they were being asked to appear in a movie.
Watching this unfold over his shoulder, Sion thought to himself:
This is so indie.
Unlike major Hollywood productions that operated under meticulous studio plans, indie films of this era possessed a raw, unpolished charm. With a skeleton crew, if they needed something, they found a way to procure it on the spot. The "crowd" currently being cast on the fly was a prime example.
Scanning the street, Sion mapped out the scene he was about to perform in his head.
"Danny."
"Ah, yes, Sion."
"I think we're going to get a great shot."
"...I think so too."
A street in the Chicago slums. The number of people was just right, and it carried the realistic, cold atmosphere the film aimed for.
Behind the alleyway where the shoot would begin after the rehearsal, Sion stood and gathered his emotions.
His first proper acting performance since his regression. The set and makeup were all ready. The air was entirely different from when he practiced alone at home or did cold readings in audition rooms. Sion felt his young heart beating wildly.
I love this tension.
He wanted to do well. He *could* do well. A positive flutter born from that determination.
He was no longer the male lead of a teenage romance movie, acting mindlessly just to make money. Nor was he the disfigured, minor-role vagrant he played through "paralympic-style" pity casting. This was a project by a director whose talent had been proven, chosen by Sion himself. The actual script he received had exceeded his expectations, making him want to do even better.
I won't let myself be a puppet in other people's hands anymore.
Ironically, Alex, the protagonist of Swing in Chicago, was also that kind of man.
A man who wants to put his past of working under others behind him and walk his own path.
Tuning his surging emotions one last time, he cooled his mind.
The makeup crew watching him from the corner of the alley waited for the signal. Everyone was waiting for the actor "Sion Lee" to transform into the lower-class "Alex."
With the lighting, sound, and camera on standby, Sion slowly nodded.
Like light reflecting off a mirror, the makeup artist signaled back and stepped away. Since it was a low-budget film, she was also scheduled to appear on screen as one of the pedestrians. Wearing clothes and carrying a bag she had brought just in case, she stood on her mark. Daniel asked:
"Ready?"
The soundman called out "Rolling," and the cinematographer immediately followed up with "Speed."
"Action!"
The 16mm camera began capturing the street view according to the director's instructions.
The makeup artist brushed past the corner of the alley. Shortly after, a hand slapped against the brick wall.
Daniel Summit focused on the shoot from behind the camera, barely daring to breathe. It was a moment so quiet you could hear someone swallow.
"Alex" made his appearance.
As mentioned, he had spent a very long night. He was utterly exhausted from running around all night. Yet, clutching a brown briefcase tightly to his chest as if he would never let it go, he scanned his surroundings and stepped out onto the street.
He walked slowly. He stumbled like a man drugged, and no one paid him any mind.
The cinematographer, James Parker, tracked his unstable movements with the camera mounted on the tripod. He suddenly recalled something a veteran cinematographer he respected had told him back when he was a rookie.
"A great actor, you see, makes you feel it instantly just by filming them."
Ah, so this is the world inside the movie.
A scene from the movie that the crew had brainstormed and discussed while eating cheese pizza at the director's house was unfolding perfectly inside the camera's viewfinder.
And what else did he say? A great actor can even change the space around them.
He never expected to feel that emotion from Hollywood's troublemaker, Sion Lee...
Perfect.
Just from the first shoot, it was already the best work he had ever done. James focused even harder on operating the camera.
The Chicago slums. The snow-covered street. Alex moving forward, clutching his briefcase and looking around. The people around him weren't paying him any attention.
...Ah.
No, they were *pretending* not to. That was the only disappointing element in this scene.
It was the biggest hurdle of using ordinary people as extras. They weren't professional actors, and they couldn't be pushed to deliver precise details. After all, they weren't being paid properly, save for a few slices of pizza.
But even taking that into account, it was hard not to feel a deep sense of regret.
The lead actor is delivering such a fantastic performance right from the start.
He wanted to capture it even more beautifully. And Daniel felt the exact same way.
He couldn't shake the thought that no one in Hollywood had ever recognized Sion's true worth until now. Conveying depth of emotion through physical acting without any dialogue was by no means easy, but Sion, fully immersed in the shoot, was doing exactly that. It wasn't too theatrical, nor was it too mundane—his movements were exaggerated just enough to fit a movie.
Just by walking and stumbling with the briefcase, he brought a neo-noir atmosphere to the otherwise ordinary street.
After stumbling for a while, he slowly came to a halt.
"Whew, whew..."
He was merely breathing heavily. But catching the tears starting to well up in his eyes, Daniel gestured for the cinematographer to zoom in.
James zoomed in on Sion with precise, delicate movements, as if cutting a diamond.
Watching Sion through the camera, Daniel quietly continued his instructions.
"Open the aperture. Blow out the background."
An expression that was hard to tell if he was laughing or crying. With the other people in the background blurred out, leaving only Sion in sharp focus, the screen forced complete concentration on him.
The sight of Sion standing there, slightly swaying, made the viewers' hearts squeeze. And finally, moving exactly as he had intended, he slowly entered the apartment building entrance.
"Cut!" Daniel yelled, deeply satisfied.
In filmmaking, a single scene was usually pieced together like a mosaic from several different takes. Securing a shot of this caliber on the very first take was incredibly encouraging.
Elated by this, Daniel rushed over to Sion as he stepped back out of the building.
"Sion! That was absolutely amazing!"
"Thank you. How was the tone of the acting? Any notes?"
"It was great! Exceeded my expectations!"
"Which means it wasn't perfect." Sion took a light breath and adjusted his posture. "I can do more. What should we try next?"
He possessed pride in his acting, but he refused to settle. Seeing his passion, Daniel hesitated for a moment before replying carefully.
"Actually, it's a very subtle point, but..."
"No, it's not subtle," James said, walking over. "I felt what you're about to say too. The extras are too stiff. Since you're so famous, even though we told them not to pay attention, they keep stealing glances at you."
"Well, that's unavoidable. We couldn't afford to hire professional extras."
"On a set like this, yeah, that's just how it is..." James and Daniel laughed helplessly.
Listening quietly to their conversation, Sion shrugged.
"I think I can solve that."
"Huh?"
"How?"
"Hmm..." Sion pondered for a moment, choosing his words, before flashing a relaxed smile. "I once met a director who used to shoot indie films in Hollywood, and he told me this: he'd gloss over the crowd scenes, but for shots where people's faces actually showed, he turned the locals on the spot into actors."
Daniel, James, and the rest of the crew gathered closer, listening intently.
"In reality, don't we all play some kind of role in society? So he said he coaxed them and gave each of them a simple role."
"Hmm... How do we go about doing that?"
"If you don't mind, I can explain it to them."
After a brief hesitation, Daniel nodded.
With the director's approval, Sion stuffed his hands into his pockets and scanned the crowd.
The group of about twenty people gathered in small clusters stared back at him. Sion approached them with movements entirely different from when he was playing Alex.
This crowd is even smaller than the one at the donut shop.
They were ordinary, lower-class Chicago residents living on this very street. Since this was further south, most of them were Black. Chicago was a highly segregated city, and the setting of a "white" protagonist living in such an area was a device to symbolize Alex's isolation.
Well, in reality, even if he's mixed-race, his appearance is closer to white.
Recalling the script to figure out how to explain things, Sion stopped in front of a young Black girl.
"Hi."
Meeting his smile, the girl's face flushed bright red, and a high-pitched, squeaky gasp escaped her lips.
"H-Heh...?!"
Jasmine. No matter how cool she tried to act in front of her friends, at the end of the day, she was just a fourteen-year-old girl. In front of an incredibly handsome man at the peak of his popularity, she couldn't help but tremble.