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Chapter - 291
🕑 Added 2025-12-09 15:53:57 +0000 UTC[Title : Filming [Superman] (1)]
….
The filming of [Superman] was moving along, week after week.
And honestly, it was going too smoothly. It was so easy that Regal, the director, was starting to feel a little worried.
They actually finished the scenes scheduled for two weeks in just ten days - that’s four days ahead of schedule.
In Hollywood, where time is literally money, saving four days like that? That’s millions of dollars back in the studio's pocket.
Again, for the corporate stakeholders even saving just one day is considered a huge win, a real blessing.
But here is the thing: Regal knew this couldn't be entirely credited to their fantastic pre-production work or even his own ‘masterful directorial skills’ - which, to be fair, the crew was prepared for, and they did plan a faster than normal schedule because of it.
No, what was really out of left field - the thing no one could have planned for - was how quickly the crew found their rhythm.
It was like they clicked overnight. And also, how fast Henry, playing Superman grew more confident with every single take.
Then there was the Kansas weather.
It cooperated in ways that felt almost... supernatural. It was perfect, day after day.
And that was the real reason Regal felt wary, like waiting for a huge boulder to drop. It was all just too good.
Still, he couldn't let that lingering thought stop him.
He had to keep moving. He had to face yet another challenging sequence they had lined up.
….
Regal sat down behind the main monitor, watching the two actors.
Stephen Hawking Sr. and Henry Cavill were standing near the practical car rig, which was ready to be blown up. They were talking quietly to each other.
Around them, it was what you would call organized chaos: thirty crew members were coordinating every single detail for what would become one of the film's most devastating moments.
They were about to film the tornado sequence.
They had just wrapped the scene right before this one - the Kent family in the car, having one of those painful, typical family arguments.
Clark had reached a point where he couldn’t hold it in anymore. He was tired of pretending he was ordinary, playing it safe, living small when every instinct in him wanted to do something meaningful.
Jonathan took those words as an insult to the life he had built, to the generations of farmers who had worked the same land with pride.
What Clark meant was that he wanted purpose; what Jonathan heard was that his son thought their entire way of life was insignificant.
The conversation snowballed.
Jonathan’s defenses rose, Clark’s resentment sharpened, and Martha was left in the middle, watching the two people she loved talk past each other instead of to each other.
The argument finally cracked open when Clark, overwhelmed and angry, drew a line he never intended to draw, separating himself from Jonathan’s family legacy entirely.
It wasn’t the words themselves that stung, but the implication behind them: that Clark felt disconnected from the identity Jonathan valued most.
That moment created a quiet, painful space between them, one that lingered even as they prepared for the next scene.
"Your family, not mine." Clark had snapped, the line hitting Jonathan like a physical slap.
And in accordance to the script, the sky would be turned a sickly, angry black - obviously added in CGI and DI.
Now came the real gut-punch, the hard part:
Jonathan Kent's sacrifice.
The set itself was a masterpiece of controlled destruction. The art department had built a perfect section of a Kansas highway, including a concrete overpass.
Huge wind machines surrounded the set, powerful enough to literally lift a full-grown man off the ground. The car rig sat on a gimbal system - a huge mechanism that could tilt and shake violently to simulate the deadly, erratic motions of a tornado's wind.
Twelve high-speed cameras were positioned all around the perimeter, ready to capture every single angle.
Again, all the real and the terrifying reality of these effects, wouldn't happen until post-production.
The actual tornado - a gigantic, mile-wide funnel of destruction - would be added later by a huge team.
We are talking about seventy VFX artists working simultaneously in three different countries.
They would composite in fields of flying debris, add the terrifying, oppressive sound design, and create the environmental destruction that makes real tornadoes so horrifying to watch.
For now, the actors had to deal with the wind machines, and simply pretend to be buffeted by forces that would kill them instantly in reality.
The technical complexity was staggering.
Every piece of flying debris - and there would be hundreds - needed to be tracked for proper CG integration. The lighting had to match the pre-rendered tornado so the final composite would be seamless. The actors' hair and clothing movement had to feel consistent with winds that didn't actually exist yet.
Regal had seen the preview a hundred times.
He knew exactly what the final shot would look like: Jonathan running into the maelstrom to free a trapped child and then a dog, while Clark being physically restrained by his mother, despite having the power to save everyone instantly.
And then, that final, critical moment - father and son making eye contact across an impossible distance.
Jonathan subtly shakes his head, a silent warning: Don't. Not yet. The world isn't ready for you.
Then, the debris would hit, and Jonathan Kent would be gone.
They had spent two full days just setting up the sequence. Now they were on take two, and it had been almost perfect.
Almost.
"Dad!" Henry had screamed out, his arm reaching desperately toward the huge green screen where the tornado would be inserted.
But something felt wrong. Regal felt it immediately, and judging by the subtle shift in Stephen's shoulder and head, the veteran actor had felt it too.
"Cut." Regal stood up from the monitor, grabbing his headset and pulling it off. "Let’s talk through this moment."
He approached Henry, who was still in position by the car rig, arm outstretched.
"The intensity was missing." Regal said carefully. "You are watching your father sacrifice himself, but it came across like you were watching a hero throw his life away to save others. You looked proud, maybe even a little awed."
Henry's brow furrowed. "Isn't that what Clark would feel? His father being heroic?"
"No." Stephen Sr. spoke up, walking over. "Clark isn't watching heroism right now. He's watching his father make the most selfish decision of his life."
Henry looked confused. "Selfish?"
"Jonathan is choosing strangers over his son." Stephen. Sr.’s voice was quiet but firm. "In this critical moment, Clark needs his father more than anyone. But Jonathan is running straight toward death anyway, because he believes protecting Clark’s secret is more important than actually being there for him."
Regal nodded. "You shouldn't be proud right now, Henry. You should be furious. You should be devastated. This is your father abandoning you, even if he's doing it for what he thinks are noble reasons."
Suddenly, the understanding dawned clearly on Henry’s face. "So it's not a heroic sacrifice. It's just... loss."
"Yeah." Stephen confirmed, placing a steady, warm hand on Henry’s shoulder. "Jonathan thinks he is doing the right thing. But from Clark's perspective, it’s just watching your father die when you have all the power in the world to save him, and being told you absolutely can't use it."
They talked for another few minutes, Stephen. Sr. explaining the precise emotional architecture of the scene with an experience spent over forty years mastering his craft.
Henry listened intently, nodding and asking probing questions, slowly finding his way into the deep, painful truth of the moment.
"Let’s do our absolute best on this one."
"Maybe take it a bit easy on me." Henry half-joked, though there was genuine nervousness in his voice.
"You know that’s not going to happen." Stephen's eyes held a spark of humor. "You are Superman. Act like it."
They returned to their starting positions. The crew immediately reset everything - the wind machines were powered down momentarily and the cameras were meticulously checked and double-checked.
Regal started walking back toward the monitor, but he paused halfway, his gaze fixed on Stephen. Sr.
He realized he had underestimated him.
No - that wasn't the right word, not quite.
Even with the help of his system, he had never been able to truly estimate this astonishing level of acting skill in the first place.
Words like ‘terrifying’ or ‘insane’ didn't do it justice.
Ten days ago, when Regal had managed to activate his world-class [Direction] skill deliberately for the first time. He had used it to elevate Stephen. Sr.'s performance, to create that emotional depth that had left the crew speechless.
That, for Regal, had been a personal milestone, a huge step in his own development as a director.
But Stephen. Sr?
The old man was trying to enter that state by himself.
Regal had noticed it over the past few days. The way Stephen. Sr. would pause just before a take, his gaze suddenly distant.
The way he would ask questions that seemed innocuous but were actually probing–
"How did you know the scene needed that particular energy?"
"What made you change your direction mid-take?"
Stephen didn't have a clue what this state was or exactly how it worked. He certainly didn't have a specific system or any supernatural help, like Regal did.
Yet, he was trying to force his way into that elevated state of performance using nothing but his sheer, monumental talent and forty years of accumulated craft.
It was, honestly, the most terrifying thing Regal had ever witnessed.
Regal had smoothly deflected every time Stephen tried to ask about something ‘strange’ he had felt during that very first scene where Regal had used his skill.
But what if this kept going? What if Stephen, through sheer will and genius, somehow managed to reach that perfect state on his own, without him activating.
Regal wouldn't be shocked, not even a little bit.
Disturbed? Maybe. Awed? Definitely.
But shocked? No way.
That, he realized, is what truly separates the absolute legends from everyone else - they find ways to reach heights that everyone agrees shouldn't even be reachable.
For some reason, he immediately felt proud - how Ross - even with his talent managed to rival this monster.
Regal deliberately pushed those heavy thoughts aside, exhaling slowly. He settled back firmly behind the monitor. He needed to focus on the immediate shot at hand.
"First team, final positions!" the first AD called.
The set instantly transformed. The huge wind machines powered up, creating that deafening, howling maelstrom that would sell the tornado’s terrifying presence. Rain started pelting down hard from the overhead towers. The car rig began its subtle, sickening rocking motion.
Stephen stood perfectly positioned by the overpass structure, his costume already completely soaked and deliberately mud-stained from the previous takes.
Henry and Diane Lane(Martha Kent) were by the car, restrained slightly by the "safety" of the overpass.
"Roll sound!"
"Speed!"
"Roll cameras! All cameras!"
Twelve cameras confirmed rolling simultaneously.
"Action!"
.
….
[To be continued…]
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Comments
Dênnis Ribeiro
It could go on another direction, Clark saving someone in another direction while his father is too saving someone but suffers an accident, this takes the idea that he can't save everybody and has to choose everytime, then he chooses more people or children instead of his father. His choice costs his father and maybe risks his mother resentment as she knows Clark could choose Jonathan.
MARLENE ANGEL
This novle is awesome plot story..author take his time
