It was a bit of a 'natural high' kill.
On the set of my latest "acting" stint for a children's television program, as people were preparing to throw 'smoking' cardboard rocks at me, the Japanese director explained to a group of us what we were to do.
First, we were supposed to look up at the sky curiously. When a woman behind the camera said "Bokaaan!" ("boom!"), we were to scream in terror at a monstrous beast in the sky, then turn and run for our lives.
"Act like it's the World Trade Center," the director said in Japanese, all too casually. I hadn't processed fully processed his words yet when the on set translator repeated the order in English, which, for some reason, caught me even more off guard.
"Do you mean like the World Trade Center in the Oliver Stone film, or in the actual terrorist attacks?" I would have loved to ask him so much, if I didn't already know the answer: that there was no difference.
I have long ago given up on any attempts to convince the Japanese that the World Trade Center did not fall for the express purpose of their cinematic entertainment. Terror doesn't usually cross cultures without any serious distortions, I find.
"I would feel more artistically inclined to imagine that I am running from the atomic bombing of Hiroshima, is that ok?" I would have loved to have asked as well, if only to witness the expression on the director's face when I did.