Dreams of Stardom (Hollywood SI)

June, 2005, Arizona, USA

I couldn't help but curse my luck as soon as I ran into the living room. The lively atmosphere on set had been immediately dampened by Toni's scream. Everyone was gathered around Alan Arkin, who was lying flat on the floor with his eyes closed. Toni Collette was hovering over him.

As soon as I crouched beside her, she turned to me in panic. "We've called 9-1-1, but they'll take some time to get here. Do you know CPR?"

I didn't. I opened my mouth to say so, but then I noticed something strange. One of the crew's cameramen, meant to film behind-the-scenes footage, was recording the entire incident. Not only was this insensitive on so many levels, but the strangest part was that the camera was pointed at me, not Alan.

I groaned internally as the realization hit me: this was a prank. A tasteless one. Pranks have limits, and these people had clearly forgotten that. If you perform CPR on a healthy person or do it incorrectly, you could do more harm than good. But if they wanted to mess with me, I'd gladly turn the tables.

I nodded at Toni to indicate I knew CPR, then stood up. I motioned for the crew to step back, and they complied, most of them looking shocked that I was actually about to go through with it.

Toni looked uneasy. "Are you sure you know CPR, Troy? Have you learned it somewhere?"

I nodded again before stepping forward and spreading Alan's legs slightly apart. The tension in the room skyrocketed as everyone watched, clearly unsure of what I was doing.

"CPR is done on the chest," Steve Carell said from behind me, his voice cutting through the tension. I must have missed his arrival in the chaos. "Why are you moving his legs?"

I gave him a reassuring smile before lifting my booted foot and hovering it over Alan's family jewels.

Immediately, Alan sat bolt upright.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing!?" he yelled, shoving my foot away. "I'm not doing this shit anymore!"

I burst into laughter at his reaction, flipping the bird to the entire crew, including my fellow actors, who had thought pulling such a terrible prank on me was a good idea. My laughter was infectious, and soon everyone was cracking up at the prank's failure.

When the laughter finally died down, Alan draped an arm over my shoulders and said, "I'm sorry. In my defense, you've been awfully quiet, kid. You need to speak up. I made a bet with Carell over there that I could get you to talk, but clearly, I lost."

I pulled out my notepad and wrote, I will talk soon.

"I know that," he said. "But by then, I'll be killed off and head back home. We won't get the chance to speak at all."

That was true. My character, Dwayne, only speaks after Alan's character, Edwin, dies in the story. We'd see each other again during the promotional events and film festival phase of [Little Miss Sunshine], but there'd be a significant gap between now and then.

I shook my head and wrote, We will speak. If not now then later.

"I hope so, kid," Alan said. "Just a piece of advice: if you don't want to antagonize everyone you work with, don't do method acting too often. It might bring out your best performance, but it's not worth it. I like that at least you're not completely embodying your character and have only gone silent. I've worked with some extreme method actors, and almost everyone hated them on set. Some people even went so far as to say they wouldn't work with them again because of their erratic behavior."

I nodded in understanding. I hadn't worked with a dedicated method actor yet, but I'd heard plenty of stories during my time in the industry.

"All right, everyone," Jonathan announced. "Let's wrap up. Today's shoot is over."

(Break)

"Jesus, I'm tired," Alan Arkin groaned. "I'm so fucking tired. Do you know how tired I am?" He turned to me and gently poked my arm to get my attention. I glanced at him once in irritation before turning my gaze back to the window.

"If some girl came up to me and begged me to fuck her, I couldn't do it. That's how tired I am," Alan continued, completely ignoring my lack of response.

"Dad!" Greg turned around in his seat while driving. "Watch the language, huh?" He turned back to focus on the road ahead.

"She's listening to music," Alan said, gesturing toward the nine-year-old girl grooving to music on her headphones. "See? Olive, I'll give you a million dollars if you turn around."

As expected, the girl remained blissfully unaware of the conversation.

Alan turned back to me. "Can I give you some advice?"

I shook my head.

"Well, I'm gonna give it to you anyway," he said, completely unfazed. "I don't want you making the same mistakes I made."

"Can't wait to hear this," Greg muttered sarcastically from the driver's seat.

"Dwayne, that's your name, right?" Alan asked. When I didn't respond, he continued, "Fuck a lot of women, Dwayne. Not just one woman—a lot of women."

"Hey! Dad!" Greg shouted from the front.

"Will you relax? She's got headphones on!" Alan snapped before turning back to me. "So, are you getting any?"

I shook my head.

"No? Jesus. You're what, 15? You should be getting that young stuff. That young stuff is the best in the whole world."

Despite how morally wrong the statement was, Alan's delivery was so outrageous it took all my willpower not to break character and burst out laughing.

"Hey, Dad! That's enough! Stop it!" Greg shouted again.

"Will you kindly not interrupt?" Alan retorted, before addressing me again. "See, right now, you're jailbait. They're jailbait. It's perfect. I mean, you hit 18… man, you're talking about three to five."

I looked ahead at Steve Carell, sitting in the row in front of me, desperate to keep from laughing. That turned out to be a terrible decision. Steve's shoulders were shaking wildly with suppressed laughter, and as soon as he turned and our eyes met, we couldn't hold it in any longer.

"Hahahaha!" Steve and I laughed like madmen.

Abigail, who was sitting beside Steve with her headphones on, pulled them off to figure out what was happening. Greg and Toni had also started laughing, leaving Alan the only one not amused. It helped that the car wasn't actually being driven by Greg. Instead, it was on a low-level trolley pulled by a truck.

"Why are you laughing?" Abigail asked me but shifted her question to Steve mid-sentence when she realized I wouldn't answer.

"Nothing, dear," Toni replied instead. "It's just that Alan is acting very funny."

Abigail pouted. "Why can't I hear the scene as well?"

Alan leaned forward and patted her head. "Don't worry, darling. When you grow up, I'll give you the DVD of this film." Then, turning to me, he whispered, "You realize how bad it is that you're laughing at this line? I bet decades from now, when I'm dead, people will remember me as the old grandpa who gave such terrible advice to you."

Instantly, my laughter vanished. In a way, he was right. When Alan Arkin eventually passed away, I mostly remembered him for this role—and what a brilliant role it was.

"Guys," Valerie's voice called out over the speaker. "Let's redo the scene. From the start."

"Yes," Alan nodded at me. "And please don't break character this time." He glanced meaningfully at Abigail. "She'll get distracted otherwise, and she's far too precious to be hearing the language I'm using."

That just made me respect the old man even more. Before we started shooting, Alan had insisted on a condition: every time his character cursed, it couldn't be audible to Abigail. The writers had tweaked several scenes so she didn't have to be present whenever a curse word was said. Like in this scene, Abigail was wearing loud headphones.

"Action!"

(Break)

It had been more than three weeks since I started my vow of silence. It was tough at first, but I gradually adjusted. Now I hardly slipped, no matter how provocative or controversial someone tried to be. And believe me, they all tried to make me break my vow—but I didn't. Alan Arkin even left the set without ever hearing my voice beyond laughter.

Finally, the day I had been waiting for was here.

"So, you understand your emotions for this one, right?" Valerie asked.

I nodded in understanding.

"Remember, this is supposed to be the most powerful scene of the movie," she said with gravity. "I know you'll do it justice."

Wow. No pressure at all.

This scene was one of the most challenging I had ever done, emotionally speaking. Within moments, I had to portray a spectrum of feelings—indifference, sadness, grief, anger, rage, and finally settling on despair. The hardest part was ensuring I didn't overdo it.

This scene was the main reason I wanted to be in [Little Miss Sunshine]. It was the kind of moment you watch in a theater and think, This guy is getting an Oscar. In the original timeline, Paul Dano delivered this scene beautifully, yet received no recognition from any award bodies.

Let's see how well I do. I walked over to the car and sat down inside it. This time, Greg was actually driving since the car had to stop, and that part needed to be recorded. A cameraman was sitting in the car with us, holding a camera to capture one of the most powerful scenes of the film up close.

"Action!" Valerie's voice rang out over the speaker.

"It's an A! Can't you see it? Right there," Abigail pointed at the vision test kit she'd picked up at the hospital.

I shook my head, indicating I couldn't see it.

"It's bright green," Steve Carell pointed out.

Again, I shook my head. Slowly, the realization began to dawn on me. Still, I wanted to confirm my fears. I furiously wrote down, What? on my notepad and showed it to Steve.

He paused, as if deciding whether or not to say it. Finally, he spoke.

"Dwayne, I think you might be colorblind," he said softly.

It felt like my entire world had crumbled beneath me. Not knowing what else to do, I shook the notepad again, demanding more answers.

Steve sighed, then gave me the final blow. "You can't fly jets if you're colorblind."

The notepad and pen slipped from my hands as I slumped back against the seat. Nothing made sense anymore. My entire life had revolved around this goal, and now I was being told it was unachievable.

What was the point of my vow of silence if the dream I was fighting for was impossible? What was the point of anything at all?

I closed my eyes for a moment before banging my head against the side of the car. A few tears escaped, but I didn't care. All I wanted was to get away—from this place, from this moment.

I started hitting the car—the roof, the seat in front of me, anything that might help me escape the crushing weight of despair. I was so absorbed in the scene that I barely registered the conversation happening between my co-stars.

As soon as the car stopped, I threw the door open and bolted from the vehicle, running as fast as I could. I halted in front of the camera, where a marker indicated my stopping point.

"FUCK!" I screamed at the top of my lungs before dropping to my knees in sheer anguish. I bent forward, pressing my face to the ground, and shouted again. "FUCK!"

Due to my presence, this scene had been changed a bit. I'd suggested to the directors that it should be shot in one take, beginning in the minibus and continuing until my breakdown. However, due to logistical challenges, they had compromised. The one-take started from the moment I ran from the vehicle, and it was still rolling.

I sobbed into the dry grass for what felt like an eternity. Finally, Toni Collette's gentle voice broke through the haze.

"Dwayne, honey, I'm sorry."

I kept crying, ignoring her words.

"Dwayne, come on, we have to go."

"I'm not going," I said slowly, my voice hoarse from screaming.

"Dwayne–"

"I said, I'm not! Okay?" I shouted. "I don't care. I'm not getting on that bus again."

"Dwayne, for better or worse, we're your family."

"No, you're not my family!" I yelled at the top of my lungs, maintaining my American accent. "I don't wanna be your family. I hate you fucking people. I hate you! Divorce, bankrupt, suicide!" I pointed at Toni, Greg, and Steve respectively. "You're fucking losers! You're all losers!"

The only reason I could curse so freely in front of Abigail was that she was wearing earplugs, blocking out my words entirely from such a long distance.

Toni took a cautious step forward, her face filled with concern, but I stepped back instinctively and raised my hands defensively. "Please just leave me here, Mom. Please, please, please." MY voice getting desperate by the end of it.

When she didn't approach again, I sank back to the ground and hugged my legs tightly to my chest, burying my face into my knees.

A few moments passed in silence, broken only by my ragged breathing. Suddenly, I felt a gentle arm wrap around my shoulder. Then, a small head leaned against my right shoulder.

The warmth of the touch nearly broke me. I almost sobbed right there but managed to hold my emotions back at the last moment. I looked up at the little girl who was smiling at me.

"It'll be okay," she said innocently.

"Alright," I said softly, caressing my on-screen sister's face tenderly. "Let's go."

We both stood up, and Abigail instinctively grabbed my hand. She swung it playfully as we walked, the way kids do when they feel happy and safe. Despite the weight of the scene, I couldn't help but smile at her innocence, yet there was a bitter taste in my mouth.

"Cut!" Jonathan Dayton's voice rang out.

As soon as he called it, the entire cast and crew erupted into applause.

I looked around, bewildered by their reaction. I hadn't thought my acting in that take was anything exceptional.

"Come on, guys," I said aloud, trying to wave it off. "It was just the first take."

Steve Carell stepped in front of me, his expression serious yet warm. He placed both hands firmly on my shoulders.

"We're not applauding your performance—though it was phenomenal, by the way. We're applauding because you did something most of us couldn't do. Heck, none of us could do. It's not easy to stay silent for nearly a month just for a job, but you did it. And you did it wonderfully. For that, you have my eternal respect."

Without another word, he pulled me into a hearty, manly hug, patting my back as if sealing his words.

Looking around at the nods and smiles of agreement from everyone, I felt deeply touched. Despite the vow being one of the most challenging things I'd ever done, it had also led to some of the best experiences I'd ever had on set. This was definitely turning out to be one of my best experiences on a film set.

When Steve finally released me, Jonathan stepped forward, breaking the moment with a sheepish grin.

"While that is good and all, we'll need to redo this scene. You were perfect Troy, Abigail, everyone, it's just that the sun created a glare in a particular shot, and since it is one-take, we'll have to do it all again."

I suppressed the urge to groan. There was nothing more frustrating than redoing an emotionally exhausting scene for something as mundane as a glare.

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