Driven to Madness (1)
Two men sat facing each other, ready for the camera. One was a Black man with a powerful build. A touch of gray in his beard and a strong jawline showed he was no ordinary man. Dressed in a casual leather jacket and comfortable jeans, he looked like someone accustomed to hard, physical labor. The young man sitting opposite him looked like someone suffering from a severe fever by comparison. His skin was deathly pale. His dull blonde hair, tied back in a single knot, was greasy and matted as if it hadn't been washed in days. His hollow, sunken eyes clearly betrayed a deep-seated distrust of others. His vinyl jacket was noticeably singed with cigarette burns in several places.
The camera captured both of them in a single frame.
'Perfect.'
Seeing the exact picture he had only imagined in his head come to life before his eyes, Daniel Summit felt goosebumps break out across his skin. Even though it was broad daylight, the room was dimly lit, barely touched by the sun. Being poor, there was no money to spare for curtains. It was simply the weather of this city. Winter in Chicago was cold. It was always freezing, always cruel. Just like the people who lived in it. A story unfolding in such a place. The two men driving that story. This was exactly the shot he had wanted.
'Not bad.'
James Parker also nodded as he looked at the two men through the camera viewfinder. He was a man who expressed himself through his mastery of the camera. While the vision of the director, writer, production company, and actors played a part, as a skilled technician, his own input was highly respected. As a veteran with over ten years of experience in the industry, this long shot capturing the two men sitting face-to-face felt dry and gritty. In other words, the upcoming shoot would capture exactly what the director intended.
"Alright. Get into character."
The actors' emotions—their primary tools—had already been sufficiently warmed up through rehearsals. Daniel Summit prepared to give the cue, while the sound mic and reflectors were adjusted into their respective positions. As they exchanged glances like a well-trained football team, the two actors began to fully immerse themselves in the sequence.
Scott Jones lightly ran through the first scene of today's shoot in his mind.
'Scene 18. Detective Cobbs visits Alex and enters his apartment. It's a simple suspense sequence. Alex has brought home a dead-drop bag that could serve as evidence of his involvement in a crime, and Detective Cobbs has been tracking the dead-drop operations that have been rampant lately. Cobbs doesn't know about the existence of the dead-drop bag, and Alex doesn't know that Cobbs is tracking the crime he's involved in.'
The pursuer and the pursued. The information asymmetry between them. The suspense generated by the unstable psychological state of the audience, who knew everything from beyond the screen. Fully understanding the situation in the script, Scott seized the moment of immersion he had pulled up from deep within. The director's cue no longer registered in his ears. The only thing in the room with him was a shabby man. But it wasn't just that. His instincts as a detective whispered many things about the man. A strange danger lurked within those hollow eyes. The old, worn-out apartment felt somewhat off to be a reflection of the "man's" taste. The terrified expression upon meeting a detective seemed to scream that the man was hiding something.
Cobbs spoke.
"Mind if I smoke?"
"..."
Hearing this, Alex warily scanned Cobbs's face before slowly nodding. Cobbs pulled a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his pocket and leisurely placed one between his lips. Until he lit it, Alex remained completely cowed. Watching him out of the corner of his eye, Cobbs struck his lighter and blew out a puff of smoke.
"Alex, right?"
"...Yes."
"Right, Alex. What do you do for a living?"
"At a paint factory, just..."
"Blue-collar. A man holding up America. Where is your mother?"
"...She's not here."
"Looks like she passed away not too long ago?"
"How... how did you know that?"
"It's not really important."
Cobbs's gaze drifted to the carpet on the floor. A red carpet, filthy with dirt, dust, and straw. It was a piece of decor that didn't quite fit a man living alone. ...This was the result of the actor Scott Jones's interpretation of the script. And the moment he saw the genuinely filthy carpet, he couldn't help but marvel at Sion Lee's attention to detail. It was ironic, but Alex's tense, nervous state actually made Scott feel comfortable in his own performance.
"You went to the North Side recently, didn't you?"
"...Yes, I did. To meet a friend."
"Which friend?"
"Uh, well."
Alex avoided his gaze, unable to answer easily. Tension filled the air. Cobbs's sharp gaze pierced through Alex. The silence was so heavy that one could almost hear the crackle of the burning cigarette in his mouth. For a while, neither Alex nor Cobbs said a word. Soon, the kettle boiling in the kitchen let out a sharp beep!
"J-just a moment! Would you like some coffee?"
"...Sure."
Sighing softly at the break in tension, Cobbs leaned back against the sofa. He flicked his ash into the ashtray in front of him, and Alex headed to the kitchen to make the coffee. Serving coffee to a guest was likely a lesson his mother had instilled in her son before she passed. A moment later, Alex returned with a cup of coffee.
"Here, your coffee."
"You didn't slip anything in it, did you?"
"What?! No! What on earth do you mean by that...!"
"It's a joke. Why are you so jumpy?"
"I don't like those kinds of jokes," Alex replied sharply, sitting back down.
Cobbs shrugged and took a sip of the coffee. His brow furrowed as if it were the worst coffee he had ever tasted, and he set the cup down before continuing.
"So, care to keep answering?"
"My friend... it was Heather."
"Do you mind if I ask? Who is she, and where does she live?"
"Is... is a detective even allowed to ask things like that? Isn't that a violation of privacy or something?"
"If you try to follow every single law, you won't last long as a detective. You guys are the same, aren't you?"
Standing up, Cobbs slowly approached Alex. The dead-drop bag sat right next to the sofa where Alex was sitting. Alex tried not to pay attention to it, but his body unconsciously leaned ever so slightly toward it. Like a cornered dog barking, he yelled with a face full of cowardice and a desperate anger trying to mask it.
"What do you mean, 'us'?! Right now, you're harassing an innocent citizen—!"
"You guys don't exactly follow every minor safety regulation at the factory, do you?"
"...What?"
"What did you think I meant? Did you think a detective showed up just to find any excuse to drag you away? I just want to know. Why did you go to the North Side that night, and what did you see there? ...Did you happen to see any suspicious characters?"
The detective's interrogation continued for a while. Watching Alex's shoulders, which were hunched and trembling slightly, Daniel felt an indescribable sense of ecstasy.
'Amazing.'
It was the exact picture he wanted. Alex was clearly a marginalized member of society. Because his life was a struggle, he was always psychologically beaten down. When he was alone, he didn't show it as much; instead, he masked it with a desperate ambition to climb higher. But the moment he was with someone else, that facade crumbled completely. Watching this scene unfold, various layers of meaning bloomed in Daniel's mind. When someone acts out of desperation, can that action ever be truly right? Looking at Alex, who seemed on the verge of tears with just a little more pressure, Daniel felt a sense of empathetic embarrassment and sadness that went beyond mere sadism. But being weak didn't make one inherently good. In fact, because they were weak, they committed acts bordering on social evil without even realizing it. Because that was their only option. For instance, acting as a "mule" to transport drugs via dead drops. Suddenly remembering Jasmine, whom he had met on the street not long ago, Daniel felt a strange thrill wash over him in front of this frame that he, the crew, and the actors had carved out of time and space.
"Alright. Is this your work bag?"
"..."
"Pleading the Fifth?"
"It's just... a bag I use when I go out."
"What's inside?"
"A pen, a notebook, my wallet..."
"Seems pretty heavy for just those things."
"That's really all there is."
"Then you won't mind if I take a look, right?"
Cobbs pressed. Alex hesitated, his eyes trembling with minute detail. Daniel noticed that every single movement was a calculated result. After glancing at the ceiling, the floor, the bag, and Cobbs's eyes, Alex slowly nodded like a man who had made a grim resolution. Cobbs slowly reached out to open the bag.
'Capture his upper body.'
Following Daniel's simple hand gesture, James focused the camera on Cobbs's upper body. The tension was palpable. After checking Alex's reaction with a single glance, Cobbs pulled his hand back.
"Well, I suppose there's no need to go that far."
"...What?"
"It feels like there's something in there, but at best, it's probably some girl's underwear you stole nearby. No need for me to pull that out. I'm tracking a drug ring, after all."
"..."
"Hey, why the serious face again?"
Cobbs smiled faintly and set the bag down.
"It's a joke. A joke. I can tell you don't have the guts for that kind of work. But I can't shake the feeling that you know something. If you ever find the courage to talk, give me a call."
Tossing a business card onto the table, Cobbs turned and walked out of the apartment, his heavy footsteps echoing. As the footsteps faded, the camera remained fixed on Alex.
"..."
The sound of the door closing. As if the tightly pulled string of tension had suddenly snapped, he slumped down like a marionette with its strings cut. His already pale skin turned completely white, and cold sweat beaded on his forehead. He bit his lip hard, showing a flash of resolve before it dissolved into a faint, distorted expression of despair, perfectly conveying the cascade of emotions he was experiencing.
"Cut!" the director shouted.
Instantly, Alex vanished, and Sion returned.
"Phew."
Sion let out his held breath and smiled brightly as Daniel approached him.
"Wow, that was absolutely incredible!"
"Look who shot it."
"Hahaha! It's not just that! Everything we talked about was perfectly captured!"
"I guess talking about the movie with you, Danny, helped me get a feel for the acting. ...Ah."
Sion glanced back and walked toward Scott, who was coming back through the door.
"That was wonderful, Detective Cobbs."
"...Ah, yes. I enjoyed it too."
Scott was still a bit dazed. It was only natural. He had only just snapped out of it after inspecting the carpet. He had been acting, and he was aware of it, but he couldn't quite grasp how the process had unfolded so seamlessly. Scott turned to the director.
"Director, can we look at the monitor?"
"Ah, of course. Let's check it together."
Daniel, Scott, Sion, and various staff members gathered in front of the monitor. They reviewed the take they had just shot, and in the process, Scott finally saw how he had performed. The first thought that crossed his mind after watching the playback was:
'Why do I look so arrogant?'
Or, to be more precise... the reason his acting felt so intense and overbearing was entirely because of his co-star, Alex. The accumulated details of the performance coming through the screen made Detective Cobbs, who was merely doing his job as a law enforcer, look like a complete villain. Scott felt goosebumps break out all over his body.
'I've been acting for decades.'
Just now, Sion had completely devoured his performance. No, he hadn't stopped there; he had twisted it into a different shape. This was a common occurrence when actors found their chemistry, and refining these details was usually a crucial part of the process. But right now, there was no need to change a thing. Because it fit the nuances of the script perfectly.
"What do you think?"
At Daniel's question, Scott spoke up before he could help himself.
"I-I think it's great."
"Oh? In what way?"
"Cobbs is, well, the pursuer. Of course, when he's alone, he's just the typical cynical detective the audience expects... but when he's in the same shot as Alex, he looks like a notorious villain. I love how that contrast perfectly illustrates what this movie is trying to say."
"And this dynamic will slowly reverse as we head toward the climax, right?"
As Sion chimed in from the side, Daniel burst into laughter.
"Exactly! The audience watching this movie will expect a typical story of good versus evil. We are going to slowly shatter that expectation. And at the very end, we'll ask them about the meaning and essence of life!"
"...Ah."
"Oh, did you realize something, Scott?"
"Ah, no. It's nothing."
Startled by the sudden attention, Scott quickly shook his head. He had gone through this process of sharing and gathering opinions with other collaborators on past projects. But this time, it felt different. The director didn't let his ego get in the way, and the actor didn't worry about his public image. Rather...
'To think he would dedicate himself so selflessly for the sake of the film.'
Scott felt ashamed of himself for having worried about Sion based solely on the rumors he had heard. Looking at Sion standing among the director and the crew, Scott spoke.
"Could we... go one more time?"
Participating in this film was starting to feel incredibly meaningful to him.