"Stop! Stop! Let’s take a break!" After countless takes, I finally called a halt to the entire crew.

  Julie wrapped herself in a bedsheet, covering her bare body, while James draped a towel over himself. The crew gathered around.

  "Are you all out of your minds?! How can we keep messing up like this?! My friends, do you think this is easy for James and Julie?! Can we just focus and get this scene done properly?! It’s just a nude scene! What’s the big deal?! Haven’t you all seen a naked body before?! If it helps, why don’t we all strip down and shoot the scene naked together?!" I was furious, completely losing my patience.

  "Waaah…" Just as I finished yelling, Julie burst into tears. More than an hour of being naked, face-to-face with an equally bare man—it was pushing her to the edge.

  "Stop crying!" I shot her an exasperated glance and barked. Seeing my fierce expression, Julie immediately choked back her sobs.

  I got up, walked over to the window, and yanked open the curtains. Pointing at the dazzling lights of Hollywood outside, I roared at the crew: "Look carefully! This is Hollywood! A place that only recognizes money! Don’t be fooled by how polite Fox and Malskolov were to me this afternoon. If we don’t finish this film and make money, DreamWorks will shut down, and you’ll all be out of a job! Julie will have to go back to that tiny bakery, James will have to continue renting out equipment and say goodbye to acting, and Fatty, Gans, and I will be scrambling like stray dogs to find work! Have you considered the consequences?! There’s only one path ahead—get this scene done right, and not just this one, but every single one! Understood?!"

  Silence fell over the crew. Even the teary-eyed Julie now had a look of determination in her eyes.

  I placed a firm hand on each of their shoulders and said in a low voice, "God bless DreamWorks. Let’s do this."

  The crew exchanged glances, then silently returned to their positions.

  "Three, two, one, action!" I shouted, still fuming.

  James pushed Julie onto the bed, tearing at her clothes. He forcefully parted her legs. They struggled on the bed, then onto the floor. He ripped at her, bit her, grabbed her. She screamed, cried, begged for mercy. He tied her up, retrieved a whip from under the bed, and struck her. She howled, her screams turning into submission. When he was exhausted, he tossed the whip aside, carried her back to bed, covered her with a blanket, and buried his face in her chest, sobbing. A close-up of his tear-streaked face. The camera panned toward the window—a full moon, clouds drifting past.

  "Cut!" Everyone had been completely engrossed in the scene. Even after I called cut, Berg remained frozen for several minutes, letting the camera roll aimlessly.

  This time, there were no mistakes. This time, James and Julie delivered performances even better than I had imagined. This time, we succeeded!

  I stood up and approached the bed. James, his face still wet with tears, climbed out, turned off the light, and sat in the darkness getting dressed. I reached out and gently touched Julie’s face—it was cold and damp. For a young woman, this had been an incredibly difficult experience.

  "Put your clothes on, Julie. We did it." I handed her the outfit and kissed her forehead lightly.

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  We packed up the equipment, tidied the set. No one spoke. Everyone quickly finished their tasks and gathered in the open space downstairs.

  Julie was the last to emerge, now fully dressed, using a handkerchief to wipe her face repeatedly.

  "We’re done for today. Tomorrow, we continue. I need everyone to keep up this level of dedication. Remember, we’re making a film unlike anything Hollywood has ever seen. This film will go down in history!" I looked around at my crew. The atmosphere was too heavy—how were we supposed to keep filming like this?

  "Let’s go get some late-night snacks. My treat." I gestured for them to follow. Gans and Berg understood my intention and led the team to a nearby eatery.

  I walked up to Julie and spoke softly, "Julie, I’m sorry. I lost my temper today. I shouldn’t have been so harsh on you. Are you alright?"

  Julie looked up at me and shook her head. "Mr. Corleone, I don’t blame you. That’s how directors have to be, or else how would a film ever get made? It’s my fault for being inexperienced and making so many mistakes."

  "No! You were incredible today—absolutely outstanding! You’re one of the best actresses I’ve ever seen!" I stared into her eyes with unwavering conviction.

  "Really?" Hearing my praise, a flicker of joy appeared in Julie’s eyes.

  "Yes! Julie, always remember—you are an actress. And when this film is done, you’ll be a rising star in Hollywood. Believe me, the difference between an actor and an ordinary person is the ability to fully inhabit different roles and seamlessly transition between them. Understand?"

  "I understand, Mr. Corleone. Actually, I didn’t just cry because I had to be naked in front of everyone. A big reason was that as I acted, I started to feel like I truly was Dietrich. I felt her pain, her sorrow, her fate. And that made me cry." Julie’s face softened into a faint smile, glowing under the dim streetlights like an angel descending from the heavens.

  "Good. That means you’ve finally become a true actress." Hearing her words, I felt a weight lift from my heart.

  There were many things I worried about in this film, but my biggest concern was whether Julie could handle this role. Now that she had overcome her psychological barrier, I felt an immense sense of relief.

  The late-night gathering was lively, as if everyone had forgotten the tensions from earlier. We drank beer, sang popular songs of the time, laughing like a family.

  I drank myself into a daze. Through my blurred vision, I gazed at the dazzling lights of Hollywood and suddenly found tears streaming down my face.

  The agony and the ecstasy—this was filmmaking.

  In the following days, shooting progressed rapidly. In just two weeks, we had completed three-quarters of the film. Every member of DreamWorks worked tirelessly, fueled by sheer determination. Even the residents of Harvey Street supported us immensely. Over the years, only two films had been shot here, both by companies that folded immediately afterward. But now, they felt a sense of pride in our production. Many scenes were filmed right in their neighborhood, and several residents became extras. By the end, they were volunteering as unpaid background actors and offering props for free. One elderly man even brought out a Civil War-era flag he had cherished for decades. They lent us carriages, carpets, furniture—everything they could. Their unwavering support made me grow fond of this impoverished yet passionate community.

  My parents visited a few times as well. When they first saw the bustling little studio, they couldn’t believe it was their son’s film company. From soundstages to offices, they followed me everywhere. Eventually, even my father took off his shirt to help move props. My mother, on the other hand, secretly asked if I needed money—she and my father had already agreed that if necessary, they would sell the house to support me.

  With so many people behind me, I felt like a clock wound up to full tension, ticking away furiously for the sake of this film. I barely slept five or six hours a night. I didn’t wash my clothes, didn’t shave—I was a complete mess.

  Fatty lost weight. He went home once and got mistaken for a burglar by his own servants. Gans, constantly running errands, wore out three or four pairs of shoes. James got so deep into his role that he started believing he truly was George Bush. But Julie changed the most. If I weren’t with her every day, I wouldn’t have believed that the poised, confident actress who could now strip on set without hesitation was the same shy girl who once blushed at the mention of a nude scene.

  Soon, Lust, Caution would wrap filming.