The arched bare back of a young man hunched over a piece of pottery sits peaceful against the chaos of the bustling set of Giant. Orders are shouted over the heads of grips and technicians, as set decorators make last-minute adjustments, props budging half an inch and textures hastily imprinted upon wood.

And the man just...sits there. He sits on the rickety blue stool, cowboy-hat-adorned head bobbing to a melody trapped in his mind. A set of stylish glasses sit atop the bridge of his nose, moments away from slipping down. A strange sight, certainly. Or it would be, had his lean, pale-skinned body and thick blonde hair not identified him as James Dean, Hollywood star.

Jimmy brushes strokes of paint onto the piece of terracotta, hyper-focused. His restless behavior had all-but forced the director of the film to plant the actor in front of the pottery, whispering words of importance into his ear.