#645 Six-Hundred and Eighteenth Basic Performance

As I walked into the room, I quickly glanced around. This was no ordinary audition room.

On the left side of the room, a whiteboard stood against the wall with two tables in front of it. Lucinda was standing near the table, fiddling with a handheld video camera. On the right side was a spacious area with soft lighting, reflective umbrellas, light shields, and other equipment. A jumble of cables lay scattered across the floor, tangled and disorganized.

"Stand in front of the camera," Lucinda said without turning around. She placed the camera on a tripod, adjusted it, and pressed the record button, activating the red light. Then she moved back behind the table, still not looking at me. "Okay, let's start with a self-introduction."

I positioned myself in front of the camera, straightened my posture, raised my chest, and smiled. I didn't rush to speak immediately but waited for Lucinda to settle before I introduced myself. "Renly Hall, twenty-one, auditioning for William Cage. Can I begin?"

When I was preparing for auditions, I'd asked Chris Hemsworth for advice. He'd explained that casting directors usually see hundreds of actors each day, many of whom are familiar faces, so there's no time for small talk. If they're interested in you, they'll request more from you.

That's why I was keeping it simple, getting straight to the point.

Lucinda raised her right hand, signaling me to pause. She squinted slightly, eyeing me closely. "British?"

That was the same question I was asked when I auditioned for The Pacific War. I couldn't help but smile slightly at the déjà vu. "Yes." After a brief pause, I added, "The script is set in an alien war, and the battlefield takes place in Europe, so I thought the nationality and accent of the officers might not be too significant." I glanced at her, slightly teasing. "Or did the crew want to make him an American hero?"

In the original version of the script for Edge of Tomorrow, the character of William Cage was Japanese, not American. The film, initially written by a Japanese screenwriter, underwent changes when it was adapted into Hollywood, much like the film Ghost in the Shell did. While the latter made a dramatic shift in its setting and characters, Edge of Tomorrow retained its global conflict against the aliens, with the main battlefield moving to Paris, making the story and character changes smoother.

Lucinda smiled, revealing a slight gap between her teeth but didn't respond. She simply said, "You can start performing."

I didn't mind. I adjusted my stance, standing tall, shoulders squared, back straight. I adopted the posture of a soldier—trained, disciplined.

Lucinda's eyes sparkled with amusement. She could clearly see the transformation I'd made in my posture. Despite wearing a simple gray shirt, jeans, and sneakers, I still carried the air of a soldier. It was clear I had experience, much like in The Pacific War, which had been a defining project for me. But Lucinda was intrigued by what happened next.

Even as I stood tall, I instinctively retracted my chin. A look of panic and worry crossed my face, one I tried to hide but couldn't completely conceal. My voice trembled slightly as I spoke, trying to maintain a façade of calm authority.

"General, I've convinced millions to join your army. When the body bags come back to China, someone will have to take the blame. Do you understand how hard it is to make people believe that it's all your fault?" My words came out slow, deliberate, but the rhythm was slightly off, the pace uneven. Yet, the weight of my words and the intensity behind them were undeniable. I finished with a sharp and resolute tone. "I think, general, you don't want to do this, do you?"

It was a brief, thirty-second performance, but one that could be pulled back or pushed forward in an instant, yet it wasn't forced or cunning—it was the instinctive resistance of survival.

Lucinda seemed to appreciate it, her eyes gleaming with interest. Was it the performance itself, or something more inherent in my nature? Whatever it was, it was the kind of quality required for a big-screen superhero. But it wasn't just the performance that impressed Lucinda—it was something deeper.

Lucinda, a French casting director, had started her career in 1997, working with directors like Luc Besson and Guy Ritchie. She'd built a reputation in Europe and had worked on several blockbuster projects, including Troy, Alexander, and the X-Men series. Recently, she had begun working more frequently with Warner Bros., and this was her first experience with Edge of Tomorrow, which had been handed to her at the last minute by Tim Lewis.

Lucinda had no prior knowledge of the script or of my role in the audition. She didn't even know why I performed the way I did. But what caught her attention wasn't my past roles or my potential future stardom—it was my professionalism.

Despite being on the brink of breaking into the top tier of actors, my performance showed none of the arrogance that often accompanies rising stars. I wasn't proud, I didn't have any actor's airs, but I had a genuine enthusiasm for acting. My dedication and focus in the performance conveyed a sense of professionalism that made me stand out.

In that moment, Lucinda saw me not as a rising star, but as an actor—one who took the craft seriously. And that, more than anything, made her take notice.