Hollywood Art: System of sunnys

September 4.

Building a massive film studio for production was perhaps one of the most incredible investments George Lucas had ever observed. The fact that the idea came from a novice, an aspiring filmmaker, was simply magnificent. All the shots, including those on the green screen, would have a shorter turnaround time than initially suggested.

A young Natalie, just 15 years old, was chosen over Rachel after numerous auditions. She landed the role of Padmé alongside a young Anakin, and they began shooting most of the scenes. The atmosphere was sensational, complete with a pod racing machine on the fourth floor of the 20,000-square-meter building. This setup proved to be the most cost-effective way to deliver Star Wars to the fans. The final installment was slated for filming in 2003, while the second would start filming in 1999 and be delivered by early 2001.

-Natalie, for the next takes, you need to embody both queenly grace and the mannerisms of a handmaiden. Try lowering your gaze, move with less calmness, and make your gestures more casual, less delicate, - commented Steven Spielberg, a director of unparalleled quality, gathering all actors precisely where they needed to be for the next shots across the entire set.

-Yes, director, - replied the young 15-year-old girl. Just twenty meters away, her parents, especially her mother, were on set ensuring everything went smoothly. Since 1994, their ordinary family life has transformed into one touched by extraordinary success in Natalie's burgeoning career. With limited shooting hours of six per day, Natalie had to manage her time wisely.

Every shot held deep significance; Spielberg's lens expertly captured magical details, narrating stories with top-tier quality. Scanning the entire set, he quickly took another shot. With only a few more takes left, they would soon fly to Italy to capture scenes of the palace and the "Republic of Naboo."

Meanwhile, Raimon was following the entire process, finding it magnificent. He approached the corner where George Lucas was reading a comic book about Billy.

-Hey, George, when do you think my shots will be taken? - Raimon asked.

-Well, since you haven't lost any weight, you'll need to wear a costume. You can be part of the Naboo tribe; those scenes will be shot next week, - George Lucas replied.

Raimon sighed; he had to make it work somehow. His urgency was clear, and Lucas simply nodded without giving further approval. - You'll have plenty of other opportunities. Remember to shed some weight if you want to play a soldier or a Jedi, - Lucas added.

-Got it, - Raimon replied, cursing his addiction to pizzas and sweets.

***

Here's the revised English version based on your text:

The recordings for "Time to Kill" had wrapped up, and holed up in a small hotel, Billy typically used his time to catch up on ahead comics of One Piece, now in production and nearing its 76th chapter. Occasionally, they had a brief moment to play cards; Oliver Platt, Kiefer Sutherland, Ashley Judd, and Sandra often gathered for poker, sometimes joined by the amusing Samuel.

-Billy, want to join us for poker? - Oliver Platt asked.

-Sure, I'd be glad to, - Billy replied.

The nights at the hotel were long, and Billy's right hand was conspicuously marked with black ink from the constant use of pencils, markers, and other tools for comic development. For now, he was only sketching in black and white, leaving the coloring to others, but it was tailor-made.

-The shoots were long, - Chris sympathetically commented to Billy, who had spent the last ten hours in the courthouse during the last round of recordings. Upon opening the door, Samuel, Donald, and Kiefer Sutherland's eyes were fixed on Billy.

-Ah, Billy, hope you're on point, but here we bet in dollars, - Donald Sutherland remarked.

Billy smiled; it was the first time they were betting in the presence of women—they had settled for mere cents before, but now minimum chips were in dollars. Poker games, like many games of chance, require solid capital to be at the table. In this poker competition, each person started with 5,000 chips, and chips began to accumulate on the winning tables until they were all used, but in other sectors, such luck was based on how much you have or are willing to play.

-How much are you willing to go? - Oliver Platt asked.

-Two hundred is fine, - Billy replied.

-I'm going for 300, - Samuel replied, with a smirk. Pushing the $100 bills onto the table.

-Three hundred it is, - Billy replied, jokingly. - Where do I sign? -

He tried to make an innocent face, a simple expression he used when he was a child to deceive his father and other people in his fantastic bets, but for now, he only bet on the Bulls and left everything in the air.

-What do you mean, kid? - Donald asked.

-Yeah, it's $300,000. I don't carry all that cash, but I can write a check, - Billy replied.

Samuel's face fell, and he grimaced because $300,000 was a big payout for a simple poker night. Even Platt was frozen, along with Kiefer. Donald, who saw the sparkle in the game, laughed aloud.

-Wait, wait, it's just a poker game. You don't have to come here and tell us now that you're rich betting, - Samuel said grumpily. In his head, he was already thinking what his wife would say if she found out he lost in poker, such an amount of money. Las Vegas had been a forbidden destination for a long time.

-Ah, don't give me that look. It's always good to ask, - Billy replied, biting his tongue.

-I don't want to play anymore, - Samuel commented.

-Come on, buddy, it's just $300, - Billy urged.

They started a game while everyone drank beer and talked about the day. They were good fellows, somewhat calm and not saying much, and they all had something to say. The bets did not exceed $5, and it was more of a time for sharing, but the pressure at the table was different. Billy used his charming language, subtly hinting at the hand he had, and did not let his good hands slip away, even if they were good actors, his body language left much to be desired; for example, Donald stuck out his tongue when he had a bad hand, and Platt tried to hide the good hands with a playful gesture, but his anxiety was clear that he had a winning hand.