The Box Office King of Hollywood

A group of towering barbarians stood at the edge of the forest, their fierce gazes fixed forward, with wisps of smoke rising behind them, as if a great battle could erupt at any moment.

In the clearing ahead, a tall, muscular figure stood holding a long-handled war hammer embellished with tribal totems, his face expressionless, exuding the aura of a leader.

Although there was no complete Roman legion opposite them, just a few extras visible in the distance, Matthew made an effort to look ferocious.

The camera on the track moved from a distance towards him, curving in a semi-circle around Matthew, focusing continuously on his face, with the hundreds of extras behind him serving merely as a backdrop.

"Oooh—Aaah—Wah—Ha!"

Matthew raised the war hammer above his head with one hand and let out a wild scream, even louder and more intense than the previous day.

"Ooh—Oooh—"

The extras behind him followed suit with varied, chaotic shouts.

Instantly, the set transformed into a madhouse.

"Cut!" Ridley Scott called a halt to the shooting, evidently unsatisfied. He stood up from the director's chair and walked into the set, directing his comments towards the camera crew, "The zoom isn't timely when moving from far to near. Switch to manual zoom!"

"Got it!" responded the cinematographer.

A makeup artist swiftly entered the set to dab sweat off Matthew, a treatment far beyond what the background extras received. After instructing the cinematographer, Ridley himself came over.

"Good shouting, loud and wild," the British director circled Matthew, assessing him. "But it's not enough! You're a tribal leader facing an invincible Roman legion!"

He glanced at Helen Herman on the set's perimeter and suddenly asked, "What else do you think this character needs?"

Inspired by heroes he'd learned about in school, Matthew responded, "The resolve to die rather than surrender! Yes... a readiness to face death, and... defiance."

Ridley nodded subtly, appreciating his insight, "Show it!"

While they were busy, the extras had little to do and many watched Matthew and Ridley intently.

In the crowd, a bald man with an odd look murmured enviously, "That guy looks familiar!"

"Not just familiar, I know him," added a tall man next to him. "He was right next to me during yesterday's shoot."

The bald man's jaw dropped in disbelief, "He's an extra like us?"

"Yes," the tall man nodded. "He's from our agency too. Remember, he sat behind you when we came here."

He pointed at Michael Sheen, who was holding a sword and shield, "They're roommates!"

"Hey, buddy!" the bald man called out to Michael, who was infamous for making a scene. "Where's your friend?" pointing towards Matthew, "He's your roommate, right?"

Michael looked at Ridley, who was directing Matthew, and his expression soured, but he nodded.

The bald man smirked teasingly, "Aren't you supposed to be the big star? Why is he stealing the spotlight?"

The tall man remained reflective, "Ridley Scott giving personal direction... If it were me, I'd be so excited I'd jump into the Pacific."

Laughter erupted around them, but the eyes turned towards Matthew were filled with envy and jealousy.

Michael watched the scene, wishing he were the one standing there.

"An extra, climbing up so quickly," the bald man's voice carried over. "He must have connections or is really good at networking!"

The tall man continued, "Whatever it is, he'll soon leave our rank behind."

The bald man turned back to Michael, "Aren't you friends? Introduce us sometime; if he makes it big, maybe he can help us out too."

Realizing the implications, Michael's demeanor changed, setting aside his displeasure. If Matthew really could advance, staying close to him might bring benefits.

"Yes, we're good friends!" Michael declared. "Matthew is very talented, and the head of Angel Agency holds him in high regard. You want to meet him? No problem, I'll introduce you when there's a chance..."

Suddenly, many gathered around Michael to inquire about Matthew.

Elsewhere, a man holding a round shield stared angrily at Matthew.

"So it's you who took my role!"

His face aflame with anger, as if he could ignite the woods behind him, "I, Meiken, am a graduate of the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art, and I have to stand with extras..."

Since learning his role was reassigned, his rage had simmered, especially upon discovering an American 'hick' got it. If not for his agent's advice, along with Ridley Scott's reputation and the substantial influence of Universal Studios behind the production, he would have wreaked havoc on the set.

Despite graduating

 this summer, his high start and confidence in his abundant talent made him believe a seamless rise to become the next Jude Law was his due.

Who would have thought he'd stumble here, with Ridley Scott showing no consideration for him or his mentor?

Ridley was untouchable...

"Ready! Ready!"

An assistant director approached with a megaphone, "Shooting resumes in five minutes! Everyone prepare!"

Meiken picked up his sword and stomped off, grateful the crew would still give him individual shots, or he would have quit already.

The makeup artist retreated, and the crew reset their positions. Matthew stood there, eyes closed, contemplating how to portray the character traits he had described.

Lacking formal training and real acting experience, he had only recently started reading about acting theories, such as "the method," "classical," and "Meisner" techniques.

But Matthew's limited education and lack of professional knowledge meant he struggled to understand these different acting styles.

This opportunity was also a stark reminder of his limitations, heightening his anticipation for the acting classes starting in May.

With filming about to begin again, Matthew knew he had to deliver, or he might not get another chance, especially from the well-connected Helen Herman.

Not understanding the nuances of acting techniques didn't matter; Matthew believed in the adage, "It doesn't matter if a cat is black or white, as long as it catches mice."

Wasn't it about embodying defiance unto death, an acceptance of fate, and a refusal to surrender? He had seen such characters often, especially in books and on TV during his childhood.

Matthew relaxed, clearing his mind of clutter, focusing solely on the moment.

"Action!"

A voice pierced through, sharpening his gaze. After a few seconds, he raised the war-hammer above his head. His large mouth, hidden beneath his beard, opened wide, and with his impressive lung capacity, he unleashed a roar like a war god.

"Ah—Waah—Aaah!"

In that moment, various memories flashed before him.

First, the boss who had run off without paying them, against whom he had screamed in anger.

Then, the uniforms dispersing their sit-in, to whom he had shouted in defiance.

Finally, the sky he had seen when thrown into jail for disturbing the peace, his cry of indomitable spirit echoing.

Just then, Matthew's powerful lungs proved advantageous, his prolonged roar sounding like a battle cry.

Seemingly inspired, the extras' shouts grew louder, their cries echoing far and wide.

Helen Herman, watching from the outskirts, nodded slightly at Matthew's ongoing war cries.

"He's not bad?" Amanda leaned in to ask.

"Good enough for the role," Helen, a semi-professional, responded. "That's all that's needed for an extra turned actor."

On set, Matthew stopped his roar, letting the war hammer fall to the ground—a prearranged signal. The extras ceased their cries, though the noise continued for a moment.

"Good!" Ridley Scott showed no displeasure, "This take is good, prepare for the next."

The crew sprang into action, resetting the rails and camera.

Matthew breathed a sigh of relief. Had he done well? It seemed so, passing after just two takes.

"Touch up!"

At the assistant director's call, makeup artists rushed over.

"I need water," Matthew called out.

A runner quickly handed him a cup with a straw, preventing any makeup smudges.

In that moment, Matthew felt like the lead character, almost a big star.

But he knew, once this role ended, he'd return to his ordinary life.

As Ridley Scott took a break, Helen approached him, a move unobstructed by anyone due to her known connection with Ridley.

"How did he do?" Helen asked Ridley about Matthew's performance.