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Tycoon Actor C444
🕑 Added 2025-03-04 14:33:03 +0000 UTCLas Vegas, Memphis, and Tupelo were meticulously recreated on the sets in Queensland, Australia. Baz’s wife personally oversaw the construction, ensuring every detail was historically accurate.
As the sets neared completion, they began drawing attention from locals, especially those near A.B. College in Arundel. The recreated Beale Street was particularly striking—two full blocks of Memphis-style architecture, complete with period storefronts, neon signs, and blues clubs. It was as if the street had been plucked from the past and dropped into modern-day Australia.
“What the hell’s going on here?” one local muttered, staring at the construction. “That’s way too elaborate for a regular film set.”
A passerby, equally intrigued, answered, “I heard it’s for a big Hollywood project.”
“A Hollywood project? Here?” another local perked up, craning his neck for a better view. “Damn, I wonder which one.”
Curiosity ran high, but the barriers kept onlookers at a distance. Despite their eagerness to get a glimpse of the action, no actors had been spotted on set just yet.
While Beale Street was completed and waiting for production to begin, filming had already kicked off at Village Roadshow Studios.
The cast was deep in preparation, rehearsing and fine-tuning their performances. Tom Hanks had grown accustomed to the layers of prosthetics he had to wear daily, a process he had spent weeks adapting to.
On set, Tom quickly became the glue holding everything together. His humor helped ease the nerves of newer cast members, especially those intimidated by working alongside him. Lucas, always quick-witted, played along, making the atmosphere light and relaxed.
After wrapping a short scene, Tom exhaled dramatically, tugging at his prosthetics. “Goddamn this suit,” he grumbled in mock frustration. Then, turning to Lucas with a smirk, he quipped, “I wish I could transform as easily as this guy. Must be nice, huh? Just morphing into a new person without suffering under layers of latex.”
The cast chuckled. Everyone had been quietly marveling at Lucas’s physical transformation. Within just weeks, he had subtly reshaped his physique—his lean, athletic frame now carried the essence of Elvis, from his posture to the way he held his weight.
Lucas simply smiled at the backhanded compliment. He couldn’t exactly explain that Mind Workshop allowed his body to adapt to his roles seamlessly, so he just shrugged.
His co-stars often compared him to Christian Bale, known for his extreme body transformations for roles. Yet, unlike Bale, Lucas’s changes seemed almost effortless.
Filming at Village Roadshow Studios continued for several days, capturing various scenes before the production moved to The Tivoli Theatre.
The next major scene to be shot was the pivotal moment when Colonel Tom Parker first discovered Elvis Presley.
The set was already bustling with activity. Dozens of extras, dressed in period attire, filled the venue, waiting for their cue. Though they were technically part of the film, an undeniable sense of excitement ran through them.
A young man adjusted his jacket as he leaned toward his friend, his voice filled with disbelief. “Man, never thought I’d get to be on the same set as Lucas Knight. And he’s playing Elvis Presley of all people.”
His friend chuckled, shaking his head. “Funny, didn’t you spend all morning complaining about being a movie extra? Now look at you—you’re practically buzzing.”
The young man grinned sheepishly. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll admit it. At first, I wasn’t thrilled, especially since we had no clue what project this was. But now? I feel damn lucky.” He exhaled in amazement before adding, “To think Warner Bros. kept this under wraps. An Elvis movie.”
His friend nodded. “Didn’t see that coming either.”
As they exchanged excited murmurs with the other extras, the overhead speakers crackled to life.
“Alright, everyone, listen up!” A crew member’s voice boomed across the theater. “We’re about to start filming. Get into position, stay in character, and remember—you’re the audience. Act like it.”
The extras quickly took their seats, settling into their roles. The dim lights, the vintage stage, and the murmuring crowd made them feel as if they had traveled back in time.
After all, this scene was crucial—Elvis Presley’s first moment in the spotlight.
The cameras began rolling. The focus was on Tom Hanks, standing in the shadows as Colonel Tom Parker, observing the young performer about to take the stage.
Then, Lucas stepped into the light.
He wore a sleek suit, his darkened hair perfectly styled. The subtle makeup gave him a slightly softer look, almost feminine—but in the way that Elvis himself had been in his youth. His expression held uncertainty, a mix of nerves and quiet determination.
Tom, as Parker, narrowed his eyes, watching intently. He studied Lucas the way a man sizes up a racehorse before a big bet.
Lucas took slow, measured steps toward the microphone stand. The extras, playing the audience, remained silent, though many of them were brimming with excitement. They had seen Lucas before, but this felt different.
The first notes of Baby, Let’s Play House strummed softly from his guitar, hesitant, unsure. His voice, though rich and deep, carried a hint of hesitance.
And then—the cue.
Baz’s voice cut in over the speakers, directing the extras. “Alright, give him a hard time. This is early Elvis—people weren’t sold on him yet.”
A few extras exchanged looks before one man called out, “Get a haircut, fairy!”
A wave of laughter rippled through the crowd.
Lucas, mid-chord, hesitated. He looked out into the crowd, his face flickering between uncertainty and something deeper.
Then, something changed.
It was like a switch flipped. His grip on the guitar tightened. A glint appeared in his eye.
And then, his foot tapped.
Once. Twice.
Then, as if something had possessed him, he moved.
A sharp strum cut through the air, and suddenly, his body came alive. His shoulders rolled, his hips snapped, his footwork—effortless, magnetic—slid him into a rhythm that felt completely natural, as if it had always been inside him, just waiting to be set free.
The extras barely had time to process what was happening before his voice dropped into a confident, velvety tone, rich and commanding.
"Well baby, baby, baby, baby, baby—come back, baby, I wanna play house with you!"
His movements were sharper now, electrifying, a balance of control and abandon.
The women in the audience let out small gasps, some giggling, others visibly fidgeting in their seats. A few couldn’t stop themselves from shrinking in admiration, their hands gripping their skirts.
One extra, caught in the moment, let out an unplanned shriek.
The men exchanged glances, chuckling at the way the energy in the room shifted. But even they couldn’t deny it—something about Lucas’s performance was pulling them in.
Baz, standing behind the monitors, was about to give instructions to encourage movement. But as he looked around, he saw that it wasn’t necessary.
Lucas had them completely in his grasp.
Tom watched in silence, his eyes fixed on Lucas as the young actor commanded the stage with an almost otherworldly presence. He was still in character as Colonel Tom Parker, but deep down, he felt something else—goosebumps prickling along his arms.
For the first time in a long while, Tom wasn’t acting. He didn’t need to.
Because right now, as he watched Lucas transform into Elvis, it truly felt as if he were Tom Parker, standing in some smoky old club, witnessing the birth of a star. A genius. A Mozart in motion.
One of the cameras had already turned toward him, capturing his stunned expression.
Baz, who had been intently watching Lucas, suddenly shifted his gaze. His breath hitched the moment he saw Tom’s face.
Perfect. It was perfect.
Tom’s expression held that rare, raw mix of awe and calculation. The kind of look only a man witnessing history being made would wear. And he hadn’t even been directed to do it.
But why would he need direction?
Lucas was that good.
The performance surged to its climax—Lucas’s body twisting, guitar strumming wildly, voice soaring with that signature Elvis swagger.
And then—bam—he ended with a final, emphatic move, punctuated by one last reverberating chord.
For a heartbeat, there was silence.
Then—the room erupted.
The extras, who had been playing their roles as a skeptical audience, had long since abandoned any notion of acting. They were cheering, clapping wildly, some even jumping to their feet.
Baz, for a moment, completely forgot to call cut.
When he finally snapped out of it, he shouted, "Cut!"
But the crowd didn’t stop.
Laughter rippled through the crew as Baz and the others exchanged amused looks. The extras were still buzzing, still completely lost in the performance.
Lucas, now slipping back into himself, exhaled deeply. He caught snippets of the extras talking as they reluctantly settled back into reality.
"For a moment, I thought I was actually watching Elvis."
"I nearly forgot I was an extra! I got way too into that."
"Man, I danced like crazy. I don’t even dance!"
And then—Lucas chuckled when he overheard one particular comment:
"That felt like one of those church revivals—Elvis reminds me of my gospel pastor. He just made me overflow with faith and dance it out."
Lucas smiled to himself. He understood what they meant.
There was something about people with deep, unwavering faith—whether in a higher power, in their own calling, or in their sheer ability to move others.
Elvis had that.
His faith wasn’t just in religion. It was in music. And somehow, through his performances, he passed that faith on—made people believe in something, whether they realized it or not.
And in this moment, Lucas had done the same.
Comments
Gamer Dya
Love it
Ju
Hi Thanks for this even if it was kind of short 😅
Phil Meyering
Shivers man, shivers.
