I was able to hit him, but I wouldn’t want to face him in a few years. He was just growing into his body, and it was clear he was doing everything solely on his natural gift for throwing the ball. I cornered Coach Conde after our session.
“I hate to tell you what to do, but the last guy is going to be special.”
“What makes you think that?” he asked.
I told him what I thought.
“I just don’t think he’s ready,” he replied.
“If you don’t get him on a strength and conditioning program and the right coaching, he’ll never grow into his talent. You need to get him into a structured program like yesterday.”
“I’m just not sure,” Coach Conde admitted.
I shrugged. It wasn’t up to me to convince him. That didn’t mean I couldn’t help the kid. I got his name and contact information before I left. When I got back to the hotel, I downloaded my bodycam video and emailed it to Lucas Kite, the scout for the Cubs. He would know what to do for the kid.
◊◊◊ Monday May 30
Today was the culmination for my character: it was the day I was killed in the movie. I think every actor dreams about a dramatic death scene. Maybe that’s every little boy. I remember my brother and me playing army guys or cowboys and Indians. Part of the fun was dying in some spectacular way.
We were filming in the Plaza de la Catedral, which was in front of the famous cathedral of San Cristobal de la Habana.
It was a perfect early summer day, with blue skies and just wisps of white clouds. The temperature was supposed to reach 88 degrees with a chance of afternoon showers. The afternoon rain was always welcome because it cooled everything off for the evening.
They had transformed the plaza into an open-air market with booths displaying a variety of wares. It was a major production today; they’d hired hundreds of extras. This was where Laurent was supposed to shine. He’d done an adaption of William Shakespeare’s tragedy Coriolanus. Part of the story centered on riots that happened in Rome as grain was withheld from its citizens. The film had been nominated for several awards, due in no small part to how he made the riots look authentic.
The premise for today’s scene was that Rick was suspected of having stolen documents from a Cuban official’s home. He was in the process of trying to give those documents to MI6 and the CIA. The Cubans and Russians would do anything to prevent this because it would uncover their plans to place nuclear missiles within striking distance of the US. There was a manhunt to find Rick that involved both Cuban police and Russian KGB.
This was the climactic end of my character. Rick was chased into the plaza, then handed off the documents and was told to make for the port. He’d been signed on as a crew member of a tramp steamer headed to South America and then to Africa before returning to Europe. The plan was that by the time he arrived back in Europe, the heat would be off and he’d be safe.
Unfortunately, Rick was spotted. He attempted to use the crowd to lose his pursuers. When he thought he was safe, he made a run for it, only to find a Russian had blocked his escape. Rick was shot. This gave the good guys their chance to leave the plaza with the stolen documents.
Laurent was being a dick, as usual. We ran through a number of scenes leading up to the ending, and we had to shoot each of them multiple times. He wanted to get different camera angles to help build the suspense. The day had been ramping up to the final dash across the plaza.
“Places, everyone! This is it!” Laurent yelled to get everyone’s attention, and then he looked at me. “Don’t screw this up.”
I ignored his jab and got ready. The shot was being filmed from three angles. One was a long shot that showed the whole plaza; the second was from above and behind; and the final one was tighter: it was head-on as I burst out of the crowd. The Russian would step forward, come into the frame on the side, and then would shoot me.
Being tall, I had to duck down so I didn’t stand out in the crowd.
“Action!”
From up high, you could see me force my way through the crowd. In my wake were three Cuban police officers. I pushed into the clear and ran for freedom. A big man in tourist clothes turned and stepped towards me. I looked back, and the police had just come out of the crowd and shouted for me to stop. As I turned forward again, the Russian raised his arm with what looked like a cannon. I skidded to a stop, and that was when I heard the shot.
In the plaza, the sound rang off the walls of the surrounding buildings. The crowd reacted as one as screams erupted and people tried to get away. I looked down, and blood had spurted from the center of my chest as I slumped to the ground. The Russian took two steps towards me and shot me again. This time I collapsed on the ground. The camera closest to me came forward and tilted down to capture a close-up of my body while blood pooled around it. My lifeless eyes stared at the perfect blue sky.
“Cut!”
Laurent, Kitty, and Roger all walked over to where they could watch the playback. I assumed they were done with me, so I got up. The special-effects guys had me take off my shirt so they could remove the blood packs. I was covered in stage blood, which required a shower to get off.
When I came back, I found everyone yelling at each other. The stunt coordinator was livid.
“I won’t be a part of it. What you want to do is too dangerous. Without my sign-off, you won’t have any insurance coverage, and they will shut this movie down,” he threatened.
Roger, the producer, and Kitty, the assistant director, both looked worried. But Bob, the studio watchdog, didn’t seem concerned at all.
“I’m the director, and I don’t think the last scene worked. It needs more drama. The kill shot has to be up close and personal,” Laurent said.
“You can’t use that gun to take the shot, then. David would be seriously hurt if you stick the gun against his head and pull the trigger,” the stunt coordinator said.
“There is no way I’m doing that,” I said, stepping forward.
Gun safety had been hammered into me when I learned to shoot guns for Star Academy.
“Oh, dear God! I didn’t want you from the beginning. I knew that when I needed you for a serious scene, I couldn’t count on you. You just don’t have the experience a role like this needs. I’ve had to hold your hand the whole way, and that has hurt the movie, if you ask me. I’ll never allow them to dictate who will play key roles in one of my films ever again.
“It’s always ‘poor me.’ I have to explain the littlest details just to get through your thick head what needs to be done. I was told that you could do a lot of physical stuff. But you couldn’t even run through a swamp without me doing it first so your delicate sensibilities wouldn’t be ruffled. It’s a shame that America no longer produces real men,” he ranted.
“I don’t think you’re capable of listening,” I started, which surprised everyone.
Up to this point, I might have made a few minor retorts to Laurent, but they could tell that this time, I was pissed. I looked around and saw that several of them seemed eager for me to stand up to him.
“Guns are not toys. Even with blanks, they can hurt you. What he’s trying to explain to you is that your idea is stupid!” I shouted and then took some deep breaths. “I will not put my life in danger for this movie again.”
“Once again, I suppose you need a real man to do it first,” Laurent said.
He suddenly reached his hand out and took the gun from the stunt coordinator. We all took a step back as he raised it to his temple and pulled the trigger. Everyone froze at the sound of the gun going off. Kitty screamed, and we watched in horror as Laurent fell to the ground and the gun clattered across the cobblestones.