Take 9 (2:30 p.m.): I am upsetting Mickey too much — it’s hard for her (or for anyone in that position) to come down from so much emotion and reset and do the scene again. Now she looks upset throughout the entire scene, not just at the end. Sophie is stronger than this, more justifiably angry with Frances than frightened by her. I’m not doing my job as a scene partner.

Take 10 (2:32 p.m.): We start, but then I immediately stop the scene. “Sorry, sorry for this,” I say. I hate breaking a take. But I have a question. Writing a script does not necessarily mean you understand it as an actor. Noah and I talk about Frances’ sincerity. Me: “When I say, ‘Since when,’ am I serious about that?” Noah: “Yes, but it’s not like you really want to know.” Me: “Right, right, let’s go again.”

Take 11 (2:36 p.m.): Calmer energy. Too calm. It’s death for the scene. It’s clearer though, less drunk. At the end, I get a “Want to run it again right away?” from Noah. Nothing else, just “Run it again.” This angers me. I want praise. We do another one right away while the camera is rolling. It’s better, less forced. He was right.

Take 12 (2:38 p.m.): Now I’m underacting deliberately. But it feels more specific. I’m building it from the inside out, trying to wait for it instead of flinging myself in one direction or another.

Take 13 (2:41 p.m.): I start and stop. It’s a dud.

Take 14 (2:44 p.m.): It’s beginning to take shape. The rhythm is kicking in. Mickey is a rock, hitting it perfectly every single time. Acting against someone who has the showier moment is always difficult, but she’s nailing it.

Take 15 (2:47 p.m.): I’m still leaning over — why am I doing that? I laugh through the scene, which seems like an interesting choice, but as soon as the take is over, Noah says, “I think that you’re fed up with her already, so don’t laugh.” I nod and say, “O.K., right, it’s not funny.” I am taking in his direction now. Acting is not simply performing but being in a state of pliable awareness, like hot metal — all possibility and softness in something that is inherently strong.

Take 16 (2:50 p.m.): This is the first take for which there are any script notes. It reads simply, “Good.” This means that after the take, Noah leaned over to the script supervisor and said, “That was a good one.” First genuinely good take, and we’re almost an hour into it.