Great Actor in Hollywood

The air was dry, buzzing with heat, and the room smelled like old wood and sun-warmed dust. Ryan woke up to an alarm that sounded higher than usual. He brushed his teeth and made himself an omelet; he ate in his half-broken chair on a small patio. Since Margin Call, he felt like life was going too fast but the summer breeze and the freshly cut grass soothed him. He faced a brick red wall with moss growing on it as he reached for his phone 4. He dialed Mark who sounded like he ran a marathon. 

"Do you have a minute, Mark?" 

"Hold on." Ryan reached for a cup of coffee. 

"Jesus Christ, it's hot outside. The read through is in a on Monday at Sony's Culver City Lot. Old Bruce gave them a tough time on the pay, he thinks he is 90s Arnold. They settled on 9 million." 

"Okay. This my first read through. Any advice?" Ryan asked

"I'm not an actor. Just dont fuck it up." Mark hung up the call and Ryan's gaze looked directly at his phone. 

'I really need to change my agent.' 

***

The room itself wasn't glamorous: just a nondescript, windowless studio conference room at Sony, lit by overhead fluorescents. It smelled like old carpet and hand sanitizer. 

Ryan walked into the room and first saw Emily Blunt who had a sombre hairstyle carrying a cup of coffee. 

"Hello Emily" 

"Hello." 

"You look different from young Bruce. I think you're a bit better looking than him when he was young. " She said in a blunt voice. 

"Ha. And where's your American accent? I don't hear it" 

"I save it for the camera."

Rian Johnson walked in with a worn leather binder tucked under his arm and a Sony Pictures lanyard around his neck. He wore a checked shirt and worn sneakers and had a slightly disheveled look

"Morning, everyone. Take a seat wherever. We're going to get started in a few."

People began to trickle in, assistants with clipboards, production interns with coffee, and other cast members chatting in hushed tones. Then Bruce Willis walked in. No fanfare, no smile, just another day at work. He wore sunglasses indoors and nursed a half-finished iced coffee. He nodded and dropped into a chair like he'd been doing this for decades.

The room stiffened with focus.

Script packets were handed out even though Ryan already had his marked-up copy in a folder. He sat beside Emily, who glanced over at his messy scribbles.

"You really did homework," she whispered.

"I don't want to get fired," he whispered back jokingly.

Rian clapped his hands. "Alright. We'll go scene by scene. This is just about tone and rhythm. No pressure to perform, just let it breathe."

They started with the early scenes: the voiceover, the setup, the montages. Ryan read steadily, growing more comfortable with each turn of the page. Bruce's delivery was low and controlled, like a man who has battle scars. Emily's lines flowed naturally. Her presence filled the room with a loud Kansas accent.

Paul Dano delivered a line about time travel with deadpan timing that got a laugh from the room. Even Bruce cracked a grin.

Then came the diner scene.

Ryan took a deep breath, lowered his voice, and leaned forward in his chair. He stared at the script, eyes looking toward Bruce briefly.

"You had your life. This one's mine. I'm not dying for you."

Bruce answered with sharp, deliberate weight:

"You're not supposed to. You're just supposed to get out of the way."

Silence. Ryan let it hang. Then turned the page.

He didn't overact. Emily gave him a tiny nod of approval.

Then came the Rainmaker dialogue—the heart of the character.

"If I kill him now, I end it all. But maybe that's just what you did—solve things with a bullet."

Bruce didn't look up. He spoke low:

"And maybe you're not strong enough to finish the job."

Ryan's throat caught, but he powered through.

"You think that makes you strong? Killing a kid?"

Bruce looked up. Their eyes met.

"It makes me honest."

Rian then asked Ryan to do the "So l changed it" monologue with Bruce adding a line or two. 

Ryan looked around the still room. How many studio read throughs has he done as an extra? A small supporting actor that's at the end of the credits. Now, his monologue at the end is one of the most important parts of the film. He looked at his long fingernails and closed his eyes. 

"Then l saw it. I saw a mom who would die for her son. A man who would kill for his wife. A boy angry and alone. Laid out in front of him, the bad path in front of him. And the path was a circle. Around and around."

Ryan took three long seconds until he said, "So l changed it". 

That line hung in the air like smoke.

Rian didn't speak. You could hear the hum of the A.C. 

Emily let out a soft groan. Paul leaned back and gave a nod to Ryan

When Rian finally spoke, his voice was calm. "That's the heart right there. Let's hold onto that."

Ryan sat still for a beat longer than everyone else. The pages in his lap trembled slightly, but his hands were steady. 

The room settled into a brief murmur before Rian clapped once to bring the focus back. "Let's jump ahead. Scene 47. The barn. Joe and Sara.."

Ryan flipped through his packet, finding the page with his handwritten notes in the margins: 'Restraint. Connection. She doesn't trust him yet.' Emily crossed her legs, adjusted her posture, and shifted into character with impressive ease. Ryan cleared his throat and sat upright, rolling his shoulders back.

Emily began, her voice lower now, more guarded.

"This is a Remington 870. One blast could cut you in—"

"Half. What are you gonna do? You didn't let me die. Your not gonna kill me"

"So now I saved your life that makes me weak. "

"Look, I'm not a threat to you or your boy. I need to be on your property. I rather be no contact at all." Ryan's voice is lower, "There is one thing you could do. Can you just verify for me this is your house on the map?" 

Emily looks at the map terrified seeing the number 0715302935. "How did you get this?" She shoots the gun and yells, "You're gonna tell me what you're doing in my farm."

"Time travel hasn't been invented yet. It's gonna be used by these big criminal syndicates." 

"Okay. That's enough" Rian called out

The room grew still again. A shared energy pulsed between the cast and crew. Paul Dano, seated two chairs down, leaned forward on his elbows. 

Rian finally spoke. "That was solid. Good instincts."

Ryan exhaled slowly. For a moment, he'd forgotten he was reading. It had felt… lived in.

Emily turned to him. "You listen. A lot of actors don't"

Ryan chuckled. "I'm just trying not to screw it up. Hopefully we don't get fired"

"I hope not"

Rian stood and addressed the group. "Let's take ten. Then we'll hit the rainmaker scenes again. Bruce, you cool with the monologue?"

Bruce gave a simple nod, already flipping through his pages.

Ryan leaned back in his chair, wiping his palms on his jeans. He reached for the paper cup in front of him—lukewarm coffee—and took a sip.

He glanced around the room: Emily checking her phone, Paul chatting with a production assistant, Rian scribbling in his binder. It was still surreal. But it no longer felt out of reach.

He belonged here. And he knew the next ten minutes would go by too fast.

Outside, the intense California sun pressed against the building, but inside, the quiet enthusiasm of a story coming to life continued to unfold.