July 10, 2023
Sadie Sink was having breakfast in her apartment. It was eight in the morning.
Today was an important day for her.
It would be her final audition for 'San Junipero', one of the episodes of a new anthology series she had been involved with for several weeks throughout the casting process.
A project from Second Take Films, the studio owned by the man many were already calling Hollywood's golden boy: Owen Ashford.
She had made it to the final round.
According to her WME agent, there were roughly five actresses still competing for the role.
Just one step away.
Both her agency and her representatives considered the project extremely attractive. So did she.
After all, the twenty-one-year-old who had financed, produced, written, and starred in a film that was on track to surpass $225 million at the worldwide box office in less than two months was now producing a television series.
A move that had caught much of the industry by surprise: going from film to television.
Not just as an actor, either. As a creator, producer, and primary financier.
It was a far riskier move than it appeared at first glance.
During the first few weeks, when the news had just broken, many people questioned the decision. Film was still considered the higher rung by much of Hollywood. For someone who had exploded onto the scene the way Owen had, investing a significant portion of his capital into an original television series seemed insane.
But that had been before.
Now the conversation was different.
More than skepticism, there was attention and anticipation. It seemed to grow a little more every week.
Rumors said the first episode was already finished and that several streaming companies were trying to secure private screenings. And after the phenomenon 'Good Will Hunting' had become, fewer and fewer people were willing to bet against him.
Sadie didn't believe everything Owen touched automatically turned into a success.
But when it came to 'San Junipero', she had a good feeling.
She hadn't read the complete script. However, as she progressed through the casting process, she had received more scenes, more excerpts, and more context about the story.
She had met both the episode's director and Owen himself during recent auditions.
As a result, she had a fairly good idea of what the episode was about, and she had liked what she had seen.
It was a script with personality.
It had a very distinctive atmosphere, filled with nostalgia for the 1980s. An emotional and melancholic romantic story.
She had the feeling it could become one of those episodes people remembered for years. The kind that generated awards, glowing reviews, and endless discussions.
The strangest part was that everything seemed to indicate that Second Take Films was financing almost all of it.
Meaning Owen himself, the studio owner.
Sadie took a sip of coffee as she found herself thinking about it again.
Where did he get so much money?
Sure, she had read about the sale of the 'Paranormal Activity' IP. She had also read about his box office earnings.
Even so, it still sounded like an enormous amount of money.
What felt truly strange was how casually someone could invest millions of dollars into their own projects.
And how the possibility of failure never seemed to cross their mind.
She had to be at the Second Take Films offices by 9:00 AM.
Sadie pushed those thoughts aside and turned her attention back to the table.
There was an absurd amount of food in front of her. Toast, fruit, yogurt, oatmeal, and, as if that weren't enough, her mother had just arrived carrying another plate.
Sadie looked up, "This breakfast is way over the top, Mom..."
Lori, her mother, looked at her as she sat down beside her, "It's exactly what you need. You know what your father always says. On important days, you need a good breakfast."
Sadie let out a sigh, "That's because he's a football coach. He makes his players eat industrial quantities of food."
"Still, he's not wrong about one thing," Lori replied. "You need energy to get through the day."
Then she gave her a look that meant exactly what it had meant her entire life: eat everything.
"Yes, ma'am," Sadie muttered as she picked up her fork.
Sometimes it was hard to believe that at twenty-one years old she still received those kinds of looks.
Though, to be fair, her mother had always been like that. Ever since she and her brother, Mitch, were kids.
Out of the five siblings, the two of them were the only ones who had gravitated toward the arts. The others were more into sports. And when Lori realized they were serious about it, she threw herself completely into supporting them.
She and their father both did.
They had never lacked help or someone who believed in them.
"Yeah, eat up, little sister. You need to land that role," said Mitch, who was sitting right there.
Sadie turned her head toward her stupid older brother.
He had flown in from New York just to accompany her to this final audition.
After years of working as a stage actor on Broadway, he was now becoming increasingly focused on his academic training and on learning how to coach and prepare young actors who dreamed of making it to Broadway.
"This series has a very high chance of ending up in a bidding war between streaming platforms," Mitch continued with all the solemnity in the world. "It's your ticket to stardom."
Sadie rolled her eyes, "At least look up from your phone while you're saying that."
"I can't," Mitch said as he grabbed a piece of toast and took a large bite.
"Are you reading another article about Owen? I'd call that stalking by now," said Sadie.
"It's just curiosity," said Mitch.
"I'd call it stalking and obsession," said Sadie as she spread jam on a piece of toast and shook her head.
Then a teasing smile appeared on her face.
"If I get the role, I'm going to tell Owen that my older brother is obsessed with him. For suspicious reasons. Romantic ones, I'd say. Owen doesn't seem homophobic at first glance. Maybe you'll get lucky and he's into that."
Mitch snorted and finally looked up from his phone, "I'd forgotten about your biting remarks when you're in a bad mood in the morning."
"They're funny," said Sadie.
"Only to you. They're cancelable," Mitch shot back, looking down at his phone again.
"Don't be so sensitive. I'm joking," Sadie replied with a small look of annoyance.
Mitch let out another snort, "I'm going to start rooting for the other candidates."
Sadie raised an eyebrow. She was about to respond, but Mitch continued with complete seriousness.
"I'll send an anonymous letter to Second Take Films. I'll warn them that you're unfit for morning shoots. I'll tell them you're a grumpy orc. Shrek would be a good nickname."
"Shut up," said Sadie as she crumpled a napkin into a ball and threw it at his face.
Mitch caught the projectile in the palm of his hand, amused, "See? That's exactly the kind of behavior I'm talking about."
"I'm going to break your nose," Sadie threatened, narrowing her eyes.
"I'd like to see you try, little girl," Mitch challenged, a faint smile betraying how much he enjoyed provoking her.
Lori raised a hand from the other side of the table, "Both of you, behave," she said without raising her voice. She didn't need to.
They both fell silent automatically. It was a reflex acquired after years.
That dynamic had existed their entire lives.
The Sink siblings had grown up in Texas. With three brothers and two sisters, a football coach father, and a family where practical jokes were practically their own language, arguments like that were an everyday occurrence.
In any other family, they might have looked like fights.
In theirs, they barely qualified as a normal breakfast conversation.
"Sadie," Lori continued, looking at her. "Your brother crossed half the country to be here with you. You could show a little more appreciation."
Then she turned toward Mitch, "And you, stop provoking her. She's nervous."
Mitch raised both hands in surrender, "Sorry, sorry," he said innocently before turning his attention back to his phone.
"I'm not nervous," Sadie muttered.
She was lying.
Yes, she was.
This was the final audition, including a chemistry test with Owen.
Up to this point, she had barely interacted with him during the process. She had seen him during a few sessions alongside the director and the casting director. He would greet people, watch a few scenes, exchange a couple of comments, and then go back to whatever he was doing.
Which made her curious about what it would be like to actually share a scene with him.
They were talking about the guy who had won Best Actor at Cannes a few months earlier and had earned an Oscar for a short film.
It was obvious that Owen's acting level was extremely high, and that was a little intimidating.
It didn't help that they were practically the same age.
Even so, she trusted her own abilities. After all, she hadn't made it this far by accident either.
While she wasn't as well known as Owen and didn't have awards on the level of Cannes or an Oscar on her résumé, she had built a respectable reputation within the industry.
Her work in 'The Whale' had caught the attention of critics, casting directors, and producers. The film had placed her in that category of prestigious young actresses that Hollywood watched with interest.
Not a star, but someone considered highly promising, especially in dramatic projects and auteur-driven films.
Her performance had even earned her a Critics' Choice Awards nomination in the Best Young Performer category.
She didn't win, but that was hardly insignificant.
The Critics' Choice Awards were considered one of the most important honors of the awards season, voted on by hundreds of film and television critics across North America. They didn't carry the historical weight of the Oscars, but they had enormous influence within awards conversations.
A nomination there was enough to make the industry pay attention.
On top of that, she had recently joined WME.
One of the most powerful agencies in Hollywood.
The same kind of agency that represented Oscar-winning actors, top-tier directors, and some of the biggest stars in the world.
They wouldn't have signed her if they didn't see potential in her.
So, she had to trust that.
While the family ate breakfast, Mitch kept looking at his phone.
He was on Twitter.
@DiscussingFilm — 8:01 AM · Jul 10, 2023
'GOOD WILL HUNTING' has officially surpassed $226M at the worldwide box office.
Budget: $13M
The film has now grossed over 17x its production budget and is becoming one of the highest-grossing films of 2023.
💬 Tweet replies:
@Jash.jr:
17x multiplier is insane.
@zovvuk:
People need to understand how ridiculous this is. Most studios would kill for these numbers.
@cine_ryan2001:
Imagine being the producer of The Flash, investing over $200 million into a movie, only to get beaten by a sub-$15 million indie film made by a 21-year-old kid about therapy and trauma...
It's not your fault, Flash. It's Owen's fault and the fault of those terrible writers.
@CardebDEN:
And it's still growing
@camibc1:
Original drama. No franchise. No superheroes. No nostalgia bait. Just a great movie.
@horizonsound2:
Owen is basically printing money at this point.
@LinaReviews:
The craziest part is that everyone thought this movie would maybe make $40–50 million worldwide, which already would've been a huge success for its budget.
...
@TheHollywoodHandle — 8:15 AM · Jul 10, 2023
NEON executives are reportedly "thrilled" with the performance of 'Good Will Hunting'.
The film has become one of the most successful acquisitions in company history and continues to overperform internationally.
Sources say the studio is preparing a significant awards campaign later this year.
💬 Tweet replies:
@Ser_sirDuckenson:
Bryan Cranston campaign starts NOW.
@glowoff12:
Best Picture. Best Actor. Best Supporting Actor. Best Supporting Actress. Best Original Screenplay.
@morgana00s:
Remember when people said adult dramas were dead?
@Quentinclasique:
Turns out people still like good movies.
@loryllsn:
If this hits $300M worldwide, the awards campaign will be unstoppable.
@TGT_S:
NEON got the deal of a lifetime.
@Minyfridge:
Buying this movie before Cannes might go down as one of the smartest acquisitions of the decade.
...
Finally, fifteen minutes before nine, Sadie, her brother, and her mother left the apartment and headed toward the Second Take Films offices.
Sadie's agent at WME handled far too many clients to personally pick her up or play chauffeur.
But he had sent her a message early that morning wishing her luck and reminding her to call him as soon as the audition was over.
They arrived at the Second Take Films offices shortly before nine.
Sadie and Lori led the way, knowing exactly where to go. After all, it wasn't their first time visiting the studio during the casting process.
Mitch walked a few steps behind them, taking everything in with obvious curiosity.
He had flown in from New York specifically to accompany her to this final audition, and if he was being honest, he also wanted to see for himself what the most talked-about independent production company in Hollywood looked like.
They were greeted by a young receptionist who immediately recognized Sadie.
After exchanging a few friendly greetings, she guided them inside, where they were met by a casting assistant.
Before they separated, Sadie turned toward her family.
"Good luck, sweetheart," Lori said.
Then she grabbed Sadie's cheeks with both hands and gave her two kisses.
Sadie tried to dodge them. She failed miserably, "Mom..."
"Don't start."
"I'm twenty-one years old."
"And you'll still be my daughter when you're fifty."
Sadie muttered something under her breath that nobody quite caught, clearly embarrassed.
Mitch, of course, was enjoying every second of it, "Break a leg," he said with a smile.
Then he added, "Not literally."
"Thanks for the clarification," Sadie replied sarcastically.
With one last glance at her mother and brother, she followed the assistant down the hallway.
The receptionist watched her disappear through a door before turning her attention back to Lori and Mitch, "If you'd like, you can wait here."
She gestured toward a spacious lounge area on the other side of the reception desk.
"Thank you," they both said.
"Can I get you some coffee, water, or a snack?"
A few minutes later, Lori and Mitch were sitting on one of the couches with cups of coffee in their hands.
"What a nice reception," Mitch murmured as he looked around.
It was difficult to explain.
It didn't feel like a corporate office.
It felt alive, with constant movement.
There was a ping-pong table, a pool table, a vending machine, and several couches spread throughout the room.
It looked more like a creative startup than a traditional studio.
Then something caught his attention. A display case.
Mitch stood up and walked over to it. It was strangely similar to the trophy cases he had seen his entire life in Texas high schools.
Only here there were no sports championships.
There were film awards.
And not just any awards.
His eyes widened slightly. Behind the glass sat a perfectly illuminated golden statuette. An Oscar.
'Paperman,' he immediately thought.
Best Short Film.
Beside it stood another equally impressive honor: The Cannes Jury Prize.
Then two Sundance awards.
For a few seconds, he simply stared at the display case.
It felt strange.
When someone talked about an independent production company founded by a young man, you imagined a few minor awards, local festivals, or things like that.
Not that display case.
A production company less than two years old with a trophy cabinet like that.
Lori walked over as well, "Impressive."
Mitch nodded slowly. Then he noticed something missing. The Cannes Best Actor award wasn't there.
Which made sense. It was probably because that recognition belonged more to Owen as an individual than to Second Take Films as a production company.
It was more personal.
They ended up waiting for almost an hour.
When Sadie finally reappeared through one of the studio doors, both Lori and Mitch stood up.
She walked toward them with a surprisingly neutral expression.
The moment they were outside the building, Mitch was the first to speak.
"So, how did it go?"
"I think it went well..." Sadie replied.
Her tone was so flat that it conveyed absolutely nothing.
Mitch grimaced, "Be more specific."
"Yes, speak up, young lady," Lori ordered.
"Kogonada is a little intimidating. But the good thing is that he asked me to do scenes with different tones, which I see as a good sign. And the chemistry test with Owen went well," Sadie replied.
Kogonada was the episode's director.
"Well well?" Mitch asked.
"Just well," Sadie repeated. "We had good chemistry considering it was the first time we'd acted together."
She couldn't expect miracles. Chemistry tests didn't work that way. You didn't meet a person and then, ten minutes later, develop some magical connection worthy of a romantic movie.
But it had worked. The scenes had flowed naturally. That was already a good sign.
At the same time, she hadn't been able to draw many conclusions. Both Kogonada and Owen were incredibly difficult to read.
Neither reacted much.
Neither gave any indication of what they thought was good or bad.
It was impossible to tell.
"They say Japanese people are very serious and disciplined," Mitch reflected, placing a hand on his chin. "Which is good, but it also means you never know whether they like something or if they're planning your murder."
Sadie turned her head toward him, "That was pretty cancelable, and you were the one lecturing me. Also, he's Korean."
Mitch waved a hand dismissively, "That's not the point. Let's get back to Owen. Didn't you click? Incredible chemistry? A legendary artistic connection? Anything?"
"I already told you everything. One thing, I guess, is that he said he liked my Texas accent..." Sadie replied with an odd expression as she remembered it.
It had happened shortly before they started their shared scenes.
In the end, it had actually helped her relax. Because up until that point she had been pretty tense, and the comment had broken the ice.
After that, acting with him had been much easier.
Owen wasn't egocentric. Nor was he interested in proving he was the most talented person in the room.
He was confident in himself, yes, and he had a certain natural presence that made him difficult to ignore.
But throughout the entire audition, he followed Kogonada's directions to the letter.
That caught Sadie's attention quite a bit because, technically, Owen was Kogonada's boss and he was also the writer of the script they were performing.
In theory, if anyone had the right to impose their creative vision inside that room, it was him.
Yet once the scenes began, none of that seemed to matter.
Kogonada asked for an adjustment, and Owen made it. He asked him to change the tone of a line, and Owen changed it.
While Mitch kept rambling about something related to the audition, Sadie barely paid attention.
'I hope I get the role,' she thought.
Almost immediately, she felt that familiar knot of anxiety settling into her stomach.
It didn't happen every time. After so many years of auditions, she had learned to maintain a certain emotional distance.
It was a matter of survival.
If you became too attached to every role, you'd end up driving yourself crazy and feeling miserable after every rejection.
But this time was different. She genuinely wanted to get it. The script was good.
Her potential co-star seemed even better than she had expected in terms of personality and work ethic.
And if the series ended up succeeding, it could represent a huge leap forward for her career.
A good paycheck, greater visibility, connections with Second Take Films, and the opportunity to work with a director like Kogonada.
Noticing her nerves, her mother placed a hand on her shoulder and gave her a warm smile.
"You've done your best, sweetheart. Now all that's left is to wait."
...
Meanwhile, back at the Second Take Films offices, Owen was still sitting in the same casting room where, just a few minutes earlier, he had shared scenes with Sadie.
Now he was casually talking with Kogonada and the casting director while they reviewed some notes.
They had roughly ten minutes before the next candidate arrived: Anya Taylor-Joy.
Someone Owen already knew.
The day was only just beginning, and it continued like that for the rest of the day. All six finalists had been scheduled for the same date.
Each actress had between fifty minutes and an hour.
That didn't mean an entire hour of acting, however.
Usually, things started with a few minutes of introductions and conversation. Then came the first scenes, Kogonada's notes, new versions of those same scenes, the chemistry test with Owen, and, in some cases, small improvisations or variations.
When an actress particularly caught the director's attention, the session could run a little longer.
Not because she was automatically winning the role. Simply because he wanted to see more shades of her performance.
Then came the final thank-yous, a brief conversation, and the farewell.
When the last actress left, Owen checked his watch.
It was four-thirty in the afternoon.
'Now comes the decision,' Owenthought as he took a sip from a glass of water.
For more than two hours, they compared all of the candidates and eliminated the ones who didn't fully convince them until the list had been narrowed down to the finalists.
Despite his position, Owen preferred to leave the final decision to Kogonada.
He offered his impressions, particularly regarding chemistry, but respected the director's final word.
Kogonada liked Owen precisely because of that.
He appreciated that Owen didn't interfere in the selection of such a crucial character.
Even so, he took Owen's opinions very seriously, along with the balance of pros and cons Owen saw in each actress.
For Owen, the top three came down to Sadie Sink, Anya Taylor-Joy, and Cailee Spaeny.
Sydney Sweeney's case had been an interesting one. Of the six contenders, she was the most famous.
Her performance had been good, certainly, but hiring her would be excessively expensive.
The producer side of Owen's brain, after seeing the extremely high level of the other three, had led him to rule her out.
Not because of a lack of talent.
Simply because of budgetary logic.
Three hours after the final audition, and after reviewing recordings and meticulously comparing details, Kogonada finally made a decision.
"Sadie Sink," the director announced in his usual serious tone.
"Finally," Owen let out, nearly collapsing into his chair when he realized it had taken them more than three hours to reach a decision.
The casting director nodded and stood up with a heavy sigh as he stretched, "I'll contact her agent and deliver the news. I'll try to have the contract finalized before the end of the week."
"That would be great," Owen nodded, getting to his feet as well. "I'm going to review the Shut Up and Dance auditions."
At the same time, auditions for the third episode had been taking place throughout the day.
Fifteen actors were on the list, with the goal of narrowing the field down to around five finalists.
The final round of auditions would take place on Wednesday and Thursday.
With a little luck, they would have their lead actor selected by Friday or, at the latest, sometime the following week with a signed contract.
Owen met up in another room with Jeremy and the rest of the creative team, which consisted of the producer, the casting director, and a cinematographer who was very close to Jeremy.
By then, there were no actors left in the building.
They had gone through a day every bit as intense as Owen's.
Fifteen performers spread throughout the day, with auditions lasting between twenty and thirty minutes each.
Contrary to expectations, the team had been far more ruthless with their cuts.
Instead of selecting five finalists, they eliminated eleven candidates and stood firm with only four finalists, as the rest had failed to convince either Jeremy or the group.
The list they handed to Owen contained the following names: Dylan Minnette, Alex Lawther, Joe Keery, and Noah Jupe.
Since it was impossible to hold the final auditions the following day, they needed time to notify them, send over the new scenes, and give them at least a full day to prepare. As a result, they agreed to hold the final test on Thursday.
'There's no way Joe Keery wins, right?' Owen thought with an odd expression as he made his way home.
Out of that group, Joe was the only one who came from more of a backstage background. While Jeremy was attracted to that more indie quality, he was also realistic.
They needed an actor capable of carrying an episode that functioned as a disturbing psychological thriller.
Not everyone had the acting maturity to pull that off.
The fact that someone with comparatively little screen experience had made it to the final round was already a huge accomplishment.
What amused Owen the most was the irony of the situation.
If Joe ended up winning the role, it would mean that yet another Stranger Things lead would end up working with him.
Of course, in this reality, Stranger Things didn't even exist.
But Owen had already worked with Gaten and Caleb, now had Sadie officially confirmed, and potentially Joe as well.
'Is this some kind of sign that I should bring the series into this world?' Owen wondered with a faint smile as he walked into his apartment.
...
Tuesday afternoon found Sadie getting ready to go see a stage play.
The plan was simple: spend time with the family and take her brother on a bit of sightseeing around the city.
Already dressed and standing by the door with her arms crossed, Sadie began losing patience.
"Come on! Are you a girl or something? Hurry up!" she shouted down the hallway.
Mitch finally emerged from the bathroom, carefully running his fingers through his gel-covered hair to perfect a set of immaculate waves.
"What a tomboy you are," he sighed with a teasing smile, shaking his head. "With that kind of patience, no wonder you've only had one boyfriend your entire life."
Sadie's mouth dropped open. Her cheeks were already beginning to turn red as she prepared to launch a counterattack.
However, at that exact moment, her phone vibrated in her hand.
She tightened her grip on it, and the frown instantly disappeared from her face, replaced by absolute tension.
Lori, who had been watching the scene from the living room, noticed the dramatic shift in her expression.
"What is it, sweetheart?"
"It's my agent," Sadie replied in a near whisper.
The room fell completely silent. That call could only mean one thing.
The final answer regarding the audition.
"Answer it, answer it! What are you waiting for?!" Mitch urged, losing all of his composure as his nerves got the better of him.
Sadie swallowed. She slid her finger across the screen and raised the phone to her ear.
"Hello?"
There was a long pause.
"Uh-huh... I see," she murmured quietly, "Okay, thank you."
"Bye."
She hung up.
Lori and Mitch stared at her, barely breathing as they waited for the verdict.
Sadie lowered her gaze to the floor and slowly shook her head, "I didn't get it," she said in a broken voice.
The atmosphere in the room became incredibly heavy in an instant.
Lori immediately walked over, her heart aching for her daughter, "Oh, sweetheart... You did the best you could. They're the ones missing out. Truly."
"It's just that... I really wanted this role," Sadie whispered.
A couple of rebellious tears began sliding down her cheeks.
Mitch completely abandoned his teasing facade.
Even though they constantly mocked each other with typical sibling sarcasm, he knew perfectly well how much Sadie loved acting and how much passion she poured into every audition.
Seeing her like this hurt.
He stepped closer and placed a hand on her shoulder, searching for the right words to lift her spirits.
"Hey, it's okay. Better things will come along. You're the best actress in the entire country," he said awkwardly, but with genuine affection.
Sadie wiped away a tear, sniffled, and continued in a shaky voice.
"You don't understand... I wanted the role so I could work with the magnificent Owen Ashford. And I also wanted to use that as leverage to get you a date with him. I was going to be your middlewoman, Mitch..."
Mitch froze. He blinked once, then twice. He processed his sister's words about Owen, connected the dots, and a chill ran down his spine.
He narrowed his eyes and muttered, "Wait a second... What?"
Suddenly, Sadie's tears vanished as if by magic.
A huge, radiant smile spread across her face, and she immediately burst into laughter.
"You fell for it, idiot! I got the part!" she shouted, jumping up and down with excitement, pointing at him while practically dying of laughter at the expression on her brother's face.
"You!" Mitch exclaimed, completely outraged, smacking himself on the forehead. "I completely forgot that demons don't cry!"
"You should've seen your face! You fell for it completely," Sadie teased.
"I'm going to kill you!" Mitch threatened, lunging a step toward her, although the happiness over his sister's achievement was already visible in his eyes.
"Yeah, whatever you say," Sadie replied, dismissing him with a wave of her hand. "Dinner's on me tonight, poor boy. My next paycheck is going to be enormous."
Mitch couldn't help but smile, genuinely relieved and proud, "Show-off," he muttered. "I'm warning you right now, I'm going to make you pay for every last cent of the theater tickets, dinner, dessert, and more."
Sadie laughed wholeheartedly and nodded happily, "Deal."
"Sadie..."
The redhead turned her head at the sound of that icy tone.
Her face instantly paled when she met her mother's stern gaze.
Lori, completely caught up in the drama of her daughter's performance, had also fallen for the trick and was not amused in the slightest.
"Mom... I swear it wasn't meant for you," Sadie said, taking a step back with both hands raised, already calculating the consequences of having been a little too good at acting.
Just as Sadie had predicted, the paycheck was huge for her.
On Thursday morning, she signed the contract alongside her agent, who was thrilled and couldn't stop congratulating her on the achievement.
The negotiations were successfully finalized. She would receive $75,000 for a single episode.
For her, it was a fortune.
For comparison, she had been paid $50,000 for her role in 'The Whale' for the entire production.
In that film, she played Ellie and shared much of the story's emotional weight alongside Brendan Fraser's Charlie.
Now, for a co-starring and antagonistic role in a single episode, she would earn more money while working significantly fewer filming days.
Meanwhile, Owen was in his office.
It was already past five in the afternoon, and he had spent part of the day overseeing the negotiations to finalize Sadie's contract, although most of the work had been delegated to the lawyers.
Then two knocks sounded at his door.
"Come in," Owen said, looking up from his computer.
The door opened, and Jeremy walked into the office with complete confidence.
"We've already chosen the lead for 'Shut Up and Dance'," he announced without preamble.
"Who?" Owen asked curiously.
"Joe Keery."
Owen immediately raised an eyebrow and couldn't help but think, 'Seriously?'
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