That day, at two in the afternoon—
Leonardo and Jack Nicholson were filming a scene together.
Martin watched from the sidelines.
The scene was about Billy Costigan getting into a bar fight, catching the attention of Costello, who intended to bring him under his wing.
But before that could happen, one of Costello's men needed to search Billy to ensure he wasn't carrying a wire or anything suspicious.
In terms of lines, Leonardo and Nicholson delivered without issue.
However, when the actor playing Costello's henchman smashed Billy's injured arm in a cast with full force, Director Scorsese called "Cut!"
"Leon, your expression is off—it shouldn't be anger. It should be a natural reaction to intense pain."
"Let's do it again."
Moments later—
"Leon, still not right. One more time."
"Leon, the eyes—there's no feeling in your eyes. Again."
"Leon… one more time."
"Leon… again."
After seven or eight takes, Scorsese sighed and said, "Take a break, everyone. Leon, you think about it some more. You need to convey that sharp, searing pain, and layer in a bit of fear—fear that your cover's about to be blown!"
Leonardo nodded. "Got it, Director. I'll think it through."
During the break, Leonardo sat in a chair by himself, his expression constantly shifting as he muttered under his breath.
"How long do you think it'll take him to figure it out?" Nicholson sat down next to Martin, glancing toward Leonardo as he spoke.
Martin looked over at Leonardo, responding calmly, "He'll get there eventually. I tease him all the time, but Leo's got talent—he really does. It's just that he got famous too young, didn't have time to hone his craft, so he fell into a pattern. The question is when he'll break out of it."
Nicholson raised an eyebrow. "Didn't you also get famous young? But you don't seem to fall into that trap. Your performances never feel forced. How'd you manage that?"
That question had been lingering in Nicholson's mind for a while. Pride had stopped him from asking—until now, when the topic of Leo gave him a perfect excuse.
Martin just chuckled.
Nicholson's gut twisted. Fuck, he thought. I walked right into that one. Gave this punk a golden opportunity to show off.
And sure enough—
"You already know the answer, Jack," Martin said with a grin. "You said it yourself last time—I'm a genius!"
Goddammit. Shouldn't have asked.
Nicholson shut up immediately.
Just then, Leonardo walked over to the two of them and made a startling request: "Martin, I want you to hit my arm. Hard."
"What?" Martin and Nicholson looked at him, stunned.
Leonardo explained, "I want to feel that intense pain of getting my arm smashed. For real."
Nicholson stood up solemnly, clapped a hand on Leonardo's shoulder, and said seriously, "Kid, you may not be a genius, but you're a damn good actor."
Martin, still surprised, asked, "You sure?"
Leonardo hesitated briefly, then gave a firm nod. "I'm sure."
"Okay!" Martin agreed without a moment's pause.
Leonardo immediately got flustered. "Fuck, as a friend, shouldn't you have hesitated at least a little?"
"Alright, alright," Martin said with a straight face, pretending to think for a second. "Okay!"
"Oh shit, I'm already regretting this!" Leonardo muttered miserably.
Nicholson chimed in, "If you don't trust Martin, I can do it. I've got experience—I'm from the generation where actors used to fight for real, for the role!"
"Uh, no thanks. I'll stick with Martin," Leonardo flatly rejected him.
"Don't worry, Leo. Compared to me, Jack's got way less fight experience," Martin said reassuringly.
Nicholson glared at him, ready to argue—then remembered Martin's impressive fight history and thought better of it.
Martin added, "I can make it hurt. But I won't injure you."
"Really?"
"Of course."
"Alright. Let's do it."
Leonardo laid his arm out on a chair, wearing the expression of a man walking to the gallows.
Martin raised his hand high.
Just as it was about to come down—
"Wait!"
Leonardo suddenly shouted.
"What is it?"
"Uh… you're sure it's just going to hurt and not break anything?"
"Yes. I'm sure."
"Okay then. Do it."
Martin raised his hand again.
Just about to strike—
"Wait."
"Again?"
"Just to confirm—pain, no injury?"
"Yes, yes, just pain, no injury."
"Okay, I'm just making sure. Let's go."
For the third time, Martin raised his hand high.
Just as it was about to fall—
"Wait. Just—"
"Shut up!"
Wham!
Martin's fist came down hard on Leonardo's arm.
"Awoooo—!"
Leonardo let out a bloodcurdling scream that sounded more animal than human.
Clutching his arm, he jumped around on the spot, shouting a string of expletives:"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck… it's broken, it's broken, it's broken…"
"How hard did you hit him?" Nicholson asked in disbelief, inching a little farther away from Martin. Damn, this guy's brutal.
Martin, perfectly composed, replied, "Relax. I had full control. His arm's fine."
Sure enough, after hopping around a bit, Leonardo flexed his fingers and moved his arm. Other than the intense pain, there was no real damage. Eyes wide, he said, "Fuck, it really isn't broken?!"
Martin reminded him, "Bro, did you lock in that pain sensation? Want to go again just to be sure?"
"Nooo!"
"I got it—I swear I got it. Never again!"
Still holding his arm, Leonardo focused hard, trying to imprint the pain in his memory.
After a short while, a spark lit up in his eyes.
"Director! I'm ready. Let's go again!"
"You sure?"
"Very sure. But we've got to move fast—I don't want to forget the feeling!"
"No worries, I'm happy to help again," Martin chimed in.
Leonardo shivered.
"No, no thanks! Director, let's roll—I've got this!" he said with unwavering determination.
"Alright, places everyone! Scene twenty, take sixteen, let's go again!"
This time, Leonardo's performance was flawless. Especially in the moment when the cast was smashed—he portrayed that sharp agony and the subtle panic of being exposed with stunning realism.
Martin whispered smugly to himself, "See? What a great friend I am."
Standing silently to the side the whole time, Matt Damon shuddered involuntarily. He'd seen that punch firsthand…