"Am I interrupting?" Sadie asked, opening the door to Owen's trailer.
"No," Owen replied, shaking his head as he set his phone aside.
Then he took a better look at her.
Sadie was already fully dressed for the scene. White dress, styled hair, and soft makeup. The perfect image of a bride ready for her wedding.
Owen tilted his head slightly, "I have to admit, that's a pretty dramatic way to enter a trailer."
Sadie let out a short laugh, "Yeah, I'm about to cry tears of joy," she joked as she closed the door behind her.
She sat down on one of the benches, a certain distance away from Owen, careful not to wrinkle the dress too much.
Owen then noticed the printed script she was holding in one hand, "What's up?"
It wasn't unusual for them to rehearse during breaks. Sometimes at Kogonada's request, sometimes on their own initiative. To polish certain things or simply get into the right tone before stepping into a scene.
But, in theory, they were only a few minutes away from heading to the beach. They didn't have much time to rehearse or go over dialogue.
"Kogonada asked me to let you know they're running a little behind," Sadie said, "We're leaving in about twenty minutes."
Owen raised an eyebrow.
Instinctively, he almost stood up.
As one of the episode's producers, he needed to know what was causing the delay. Even though during filming he had tried to focus more on acting and let the other producers handle the day-to-day work, his mind still worked the same way. If there was a delay, he wanted to know why. If something wasn't ready, he wanted to understand what had happened.
But Sadie raised a hand before he could move, "Kogonada and Chris said not to worry. Just rest. It's only twenty minutes, and they'll sort it out by then."
Owen looked at her for a few seconds, "Seriously?"
Sadie nodded, and before Owen could try to dig any deeper, she raised the script she was holding in her left hand.
"I came to rehearse while we wait. What do you say?"
Owen looked at the script and nodded, "Sure."
That was better than sitting there waiting while wondering what was causing the delay, thinking about YouTube metrics, or anything else.
Owen leaned to one side and picked up a copy of the script from a small table. He opened it, searching for the scene.
Sadie already had the page marked, "Page forty-seven," she said.
Owen flipped through the pages until he found it. It was theoretically one of the most complicated scenes in the episode, the argument on the beach.
It wasn't a scene you wanted to go into cold. Rehearsing it before reaching the beach wasn't a bad idea.
Owen settled the script on his lap, took a soft breath, and looked at Sadie, "You start."
Sadie lowered her gaze to her own copy, relaxed her shoulders slightly, and let the smile disappear from her face.
In only a few seconds, her energy changed.
For the next ten minutes, they went over the scene. They didn't give it everything they had, because they weren't in front of the cameras yet and there was no point in exhausting themselves too soon. It was more of a rehearsal for rhythm, dialogue, pauses, and tone. A way to enter the emotion without burning through it completely.
When they finished running through it for the second time, Owen stared at a specific part of the script.
Then he looked up at Sadie, "When you slap me, make it real. Let's skip the fake version."
Sadie, who was still breathing a little harder from the heightened tone of the scene, gave him a strange look, "Seriously?" she asked, not expecting that.
They had already agreed on how the slap would be done.
In scenes like that, most of the time the hand never actually touched the other actor's face. It was all an illusion created through camera angle, physical distance, and the reaction of the person receiving the blow. The actor had to sell the impact by snapping their head to the side, as if the hand had struck them full force.
Then, in post-production, came the real trick.
Sound design, the precise frame cut, and editing could turn a swing through empty air into a believable slap.
A real slap was something else.
It was a more extreme method, sometimes used by actors deeply committed to a scene, especially in intense dramas.
It wasn't common, nor was it the most advisable choice in most cases.
Was it actually better?
Owen didn't think there was a single answer.
Those who defended that kind of acting might say that a simulation could never fully match the real vibration of an impact. The surprise, the sting, the rush of adrenaline, and the physical discomfort had something that was difficult to replicate.
But most stunt coordinators, acting teachers, and modern directors would probably say the opposite.
A real hit wasn't necessarily better. It could even be seen as a lack of technique. An actor's job was to simulate, not to get hurt in order to convince the audience.
A good actor should be able to make people believe it hurt without actually taking damage.
Owen understood both sides.
In general, he valued technique and control more. He believed an actor capable of mastering their body, voice, and face had more tools than someone who depended on physically experiencing everything.
But he also knew that, in certain moments, a real impact could add something different.
"Yeah," Owen replied seriously, "I think it'll be better for me and for the scene."
Sadie frowned slightly, "Why? I think it can look good in post-production. We practiced the movement, and Kogonada already knows how he wants to cover it."
"I know," Owen said, "And it can look good. But I think this take calls for it."
Sadie didn't answer immediately.
Owen briefly explained his reasons. He didn't want a real slap on a whim, or because he wanted to act like some overly intense actor. The scene was a major breaking point. Mike pushed too far, crossed a line, and Kelly reacted not only with anger, but with accumulated pain.
A real hit could give Owen a more immediate reaction.
Maybe wetter eyes from the reflex, a more tense pause before speaking, a genuine change in his breathing. Small things that weren't always easy to manufacture with precision, especially after repeating a take several times.
Sadie listened carefully.
She still looked doubtful, but she no longer stared at him as though he'd said something insane.
They spent a few minutes discussing how it would work. Where her hand should land, from what angle, at what distance, and which area she should avoid so she wouldn't actually hurt him. After all, it was a slap, not a punch, but if poorly calculated, it could cause a cut, hit his ear, or leave a mark that was too visible, and there were still several days of filming left.
"Just let yourself get carried away by the scene," Owen told her, "Don't hold back too much, but don't break my face either."
Sadie stared at him in silence, 'This guy...' she thought, surprised and a little anxious. 'He can be the most technical and controlled actor in the world, and then suddenly he comes out with something like this.'
The fact that he was now asking for something more physical caught her attention.
The only thing working in Sadie's favor was that Kogonada might not agree.
After all, they had to consult him. The fake slap had already been rehearsed and planned. Kogonada could decide it wasn't worth risking a mark on Owen's face, a minor injury, or a continuity problem for a take they could technically solve with camera work, acting, and sound.
"Fine, but if Kogonada says no, I'm not going to back you up in trying to change his mind," Sadie finally said.
"Great, I can convince him on my own," Owen said with a faint, confident smile.
At that exact moment, the door opened and a new figure appeared.
"Hey, Owen, I came by to say hi..."
The voice belonged to Jenna.
Sadie quickly turned her head toward the entrance. Upon recognizing her as Owen's girlfriend, she stood up almost immediately, as if a teacher had caught her doing something wrong, even though she wasn't actually doing anything.
Jenna also stopped halfway through her sentence. For a second, she looked at the scene without saying anything.
Owen, dressed in a flawless tuxedo, sitting down, and a short distance away, Sadie, a beautiful redhead in a wedding dress.
Jenna understood the context perfectly. Even so, it was still a striking image.
Owen's expression, on the other hand, remained completely unbothered. He stood calmly, walked over to Jenna, and greeted her with a soft kiss on the lips, "Hey."
Jenna blinked, as if she had just snapped back to reality. Then she smiled faintly and looked at Sadie, "Hi."
"Hey, Jenna," Sadie greeted her, lifting the script slightly. "We were rehearsing."
"Great..." Jenna said, unable to find much else to add.
Sadie looked between the two of them for a second and then gestured vaguely outside, "I'll leave you two alone. I'm going to see if Kogonada and the others are ready."
With a slight nod, she left the trailer.
When the door closed, the place fell silent, "Well, that was awkward," Owen said, sitting back down.
Jenna looked at him, raising an eyebrow, "Awkward is the last thing you look. I'd even say you're enjoying this."
"Not at all," Owen replied, lifting his hands slightly. "I just found your reaction and Sadie's a little funny."
"Well, you don't walk into a trailer every day and see your boyfriend and another girl dressed like that," Jenna said. "It surprised me a little."
She knew Owen had to film that scene that day, so she might find him dressed like that. But she had not expected to find Sadie there too, fully prepared as a bride, inside the trailer.
Owen tilted his head with a faint teasing smile, "Are you jealous?"
Jenna looked at him without much change in her expression, "No."
"Sadie's dress is technically mine. I paid for it," Owen continued. "You can keep it. We could take a picture, post it, and see how many likes it gets. I'm sure it would cause quite a stir."
Jenna rolled her eyes. Then she walked over and sat on Owen's lap as if it were the most natural thing in the world, "Stop turning everything you see into a potential post."
"I don't do that."
"Yes, you do. Lately, it seems like everything has to become content, a photo, a vlog, a post, a story, or something to keep the accounts growing," Jenna replied, and Owen did not deny it.
"So, you were rehearsing?" Jenna spoke again after a few seconds of comfortable silence.
"Yeah. The argument scene on the beach," Owen replied. "There was a small change of plans."
"What change?"
"The slap is going to be real," Owen answered.
Jenna blinked.
Owen briefly told her what he had discussed with Sadie. The reason for doing it and how it could help the scene.
Jenna listened in silence. When he finished, a smile formed on her face, "I'd pay to see that."
"Hey," Owen protested. "It's going to hurt. But anything for cinema."
"I'm only joking," Jenna said, letting out a short laugh.
"You can come and watch," Owen suggested.
Jenna shook her head, "I don't want to be a distraction."
She would distract the crew, and her presence could make Sadie feel uncomfortable or watched. The scene was already intense enough, and now she also had to slap him for real. Jenna did not want her presence to add extra pressure or make Sadie hold back too much.
Owen seemed to understand, "Mm," he nodded.
Then he looked at her curiously, "What are you doing here? Did you have a boring day?"
Jenna let out a long sigh, "Yes. Very. And a short one. I don't have much left to do with Wednesday anymore. I was bored at home and thought I'd come say hi."
Owen had a night scene that day, so his workday was going to be much longer than usual. He had left in the morning and still had several hours of filming ahead of him. Jenna, with little else to do, had simply decided to stop by the set for a while.
Her role as a producer, especially on the creative side, had been reduced considerably by that stage.
The episodes were already structured the way she wanted. The showrunners had approved the overall direction. The love triangle had been removed. The gothic tone, closer to horror, was much better defined. Casting for the new supporting characters was also practically finished.
And with all the complications caused by moving production to Europe, it seemed increasingly likely that the original January date would end up being postponed. Production could be pushed back to February, March, or even April 2024.
In short, Jenna had free time. Much more than she liked to admit.
"A vacation never hurts," Owen commented, knowing perfectly well that Jenna liked staying busy and having projects on her plate almost as much as he did.
"Yeah, but my agent received a new project today," Jenna said with a smile.
"Oh," Owen said, immediately interested. "What is it? How far along is it?"
"Pretty far. If I sign on, we could shoot in mid-to-late September," Jenna replied. "The director is Trey Edward Shults."
Owen spent a few seconds trying to place the name.
It sounded familiar, but he could not immediately remember who he was.
"Waves, Krisha, It Comes at Night..." Jenna listed.
"That one," Owen said, nodding now that he remembered him a little better.
Mostly because of It Comes at Night, a horror film distributed by A24. It had been a modest success, earning around nineteen million at the box office on a fairly low budget. The other two did not sound familiar to him, and he had not seen them.
Jenna noticed, "For someone considered the genius of indie cinema, you're missing quite a bit of the indie scene," she commented, amused.
"I can't watch everything. I'm not God," Owen justified himself, shrugging slightly.
"That must be very difficult for you," Jenna said, shaking her head with feigned pity.
"I'm learning to accept it," Owen said sorrowfully.
Jenna smiled.
Owen, however, set the jokes aside and asked, "What is Trey's new movie about? Is the script finished? What would your role be?"
He began firing off questions almost automatically.
In many preproductions, even when filming could begin relatively quickly, there were signs worth examining carefully. An unfinished script, an incomplete cast, unclear financing, last-minute changes in tone. Any of those could be a warning sign.
Jenna knew that, so she was not too surprised by the interrogation, "It's not exactly Trey's movie," she clarified, "He didn't write it. And the script still isn't completely finished."
Owen looked at her, "Then who wrote it? What is it about?"
Jenna took a few seconds to answer, "In theory, it's an auteur psychological thriller," she said, "And the writer is The Weeknd."
The trailer fell silent.
Owen stared at her without blinking, with those light-colored eyes that sometimes made it difficult to tell whether he was processing information or silently judging her.
"But I'm sure Trey gave him guidance," Jenna said in justification.
Owen was still stuck on the previous name, "The Weeknd?" he repeated, "The singer? The one from The Idol?"
"Yes, that one. Abel," Jenna confirmed, trying to decipher something in his expression.
Owen remained silent for another second.
He knew enough about the situation for the name to set off several alarms. Not because he was a musician. There were artists capable of moving from one discipline to another, few of them, but they existed. But The Idol had been a very visible warning of what could happen when an auteur idea became mixed with ego, a lack of control, and a disastrous production.
Even so, he did not want to start an argument here. Jenna had her own judgment.
"I see," he finally said, "If you see potential in the meetings, if your agent thinks it could be a good opportunity, and if the script convinces you, then it's worth hearing them out."
"Yes, they offered me an executive producer credit too, which is also good," Jenna said without taking her eyes off Owen.
Owen nodded, although without much enthusiasm, "As long as the script is good."
There was no excitement or anything like that, only caution.
Jenna noticed. But at that exact moment, someone knocked on the trailer door.
The pause ended.
He had to go to the beach.
"Go get slapped for the sake of cinema," Jenna said, getting off his lap.
"When you put it that way, it sounds much less artistic," Owen said, standing up and adjusting his tuxedo jacket.
Jenna fixed his shirt collar with an automatic gesture, "Good luck."
They said goodbye with a quick kiss. Then Owen left the trailer and joined the crew.
The afternoon air was already beginning to cool by the time they arrived in Malibu.
The lights had been set up on the sand, cables ran along the ground beneath protective coverings, and part of the crew was finishing the last adjustments near the water. The sound of the ocean filled the silences between the assistant directors' instructions.
Sadie was already there, the white dress shifting slightly in the wind.
Kogonada was speaking with Chris, reviewing the framing on the monitor.
When Owen stepped out of the production van, he felt the tone change. The closed set had been left behind.
After a moment, Kogonada looked at him from the monitor and gestured with his head.
Sadie, who was standing near him, leaned slightly closer, "I already told him about your little change," she whispered.
Owen still had his conversation with Jenna in his mind, but he pushed those thoughts aside. He adjusted his tuxedo jacket and approached Kogonada, ready to explain why he wanted to use a real slap.
"About..."
Kogonada interrupted him before he could finish, "We'll do the slap for real," he said, his arms crossed and his tone decisive.
Owen fell silent for a second, studying his face.
Then he looked at Sadie.
She did not seem to have expected such a quick approval either. When she noticed Owen's look, she raised her hands slightly, as if to say she had done nothing more than inform him.
Kogonada wasted no time.
He called Owen, Sadie, and the cinematographer over. If they were going to deviate from the original plan, nothing could be left to improvisation.
The shot had to come out right and, if possible, in a single take.
Kogonada agreed because the camera was fairly close, which made faking the slap more difficult than usual.
On a beach, at such close range, they would be relying too heavily on editing and postproduction.
It could work, of course. But it could also look slightly fake if something did not line up. So when Sadie told him about Owen's idea to make it real, he thought it was a good one.
But they had to do it properly. He gave them instructions and had them repeat the motion several times without touching each other.
Finally, they were ready. Sadie took a deep breath, preparing herself. Owen, on the other hand, looked more relaxed, but he was focused. He adjusted his bow tie, rolled his shoulders slightly, and looked toward the sea for a few seconds.
When everyone took their positions, the noise from the crew began to fade. The voices gradually died down. Only the sea, the wind, and the assistant director's final instructions remained.
Kogonada watched the monitor. No one moved. Then he raised his hand, and the signal came, "Action!"
Sadie entered the scene, "What are you doing?" she asked, adopting Kelly's tone, a mixture of curiosity and confusion.
Owen had his back to her, looking out at the sea. One knee was slightly bent, and one hand was buried in the sand, as though he had found something fascinating in something completely ordinary.
"Look at this..." he said with restrained happiness as he stood up and turned around.
He showed her his hand full of sand, "It's so real."
The sand slipped through his fingers and fell back onto the beach.
Sadie let out a soft laugh as she approached, "You really like this place, don't you?"
Owen nodded, brushing his hands together to remove the remaining sand, "After spending a short life studying to meet expectations and the rest of it paralyzed in a bed, this is pretty enjoyable."
Sadie looked at him with a small smile, "You've been here before."
"Yes," Owen replied, "But now I live here."
Then he took Sadie's hand when she finished approaching and looked into her eyes, "Stay with me."
Sadie brought her other hand to Owen's cheek, "I'm with you now."
Owen smiled faintly, but shook his head, "That's not what I mean. Make the transition when your time comes."
Kelly was not going to resort to euthanasia like he had. But the doctors had already given her only a few months to live. Her cancer was too advanced.
Sadie lowered her gaze slightly, "Mike, can't we just enjoy tonight?"
"It's almost midnight," Owen said, shrugging slightly as if the question made no sense. "In ten minutes, you'll leave, and I'll see you again in a week."
"I'm only visiting," Sadie justified herself.
"And after that?" Owen asked. "What happens in two months?"
Sadie's tone lost some of its softness, "I don't want to talk about that."
"You'll disappear," Owen said, refusing to let the subject go. "You can have eternity, Kelly. For as long as you want. And if one day you don't want to continue, you can disconnect. You're not trapped."
Sadie shook her head, "I'm leaving."
She turned around and started walking across the sand.
Owen went after her and stepped into her path, "Wait."
Sadie stopped in front of him, her patience wearing thin, "Mike, I married you so you could make the transition. It was an act of generosity."
It was not a lie.
There was love between them. A connection, which was a recent form of falling in love. But they had not known each other long enough for marriage to make sense under normal circumstances. Kelly had agreed to marry him because Mike needed someone who could sign for him. Because the alternative was marrying his nurse, someone with whom he did not share that kind of bond.
Kelly had wanted to give him something more human than a formality. But that did not turn the marriage into an eternal promise.
"It's not very generous of you to leave," Owen said, sighing and shaking his head.
They stared at each other for a few seconds.
Sadie tried to move around him, but Owen stepped in front of her again.
"Hey, look, I'm sorry," he said, lowering his voice slightly. "It's just that this technology gave me a chance. And I want us to share it."
"I told you, I've made my decision," Sadie replied firmly.
She turned around again and continued walking across the sand.
Owen watched her walk away for only a few steps. Then he spoke, "Do you feel bad because your husband isn't here?"
Sadie stopped.
Owen took advantage of it and walked toward her, "It was his decision," he continued.
Sadie slowly turned around, "Don't you dare..." she said in a low, warning-filled tone.
But Owen did not stop, "He chose not to stay. He abandoned you."
Sadie's expression began to change. The sadness disappeared first. Then came the anger. Not explosive anger yet, but something contained in her jaw, in her eyes, and in the way her breathing changed, "You have no idea what you're talking about."
"Be angry with him, not me. Stop feeling guilty," Owen continued, taking her hands.
"Let go of me."
Sadie pulled her hands away with a sharp movement.
Owen took another step, already too deeply immersed in Mike's desperation, "You don't realize it, but what he did was incredibly selfish—"
He did not get to finish the sentence. The slap landed cleanly and with real force.
Owen's head snapped to one side from the impact. It was not an exaggerated or theatrical reaction.
His body responded before the acting did.
From behind the monitor, Kogonada said nothing.
But the faintest curve appeared at the corner of his lips.
It had been perfect.
The hit, Owen's reaction, the way he did not seem to anticipate it despite knowing it was coming. That was the hardest part. When an actor knows he is about to be hit, the body often betrays him. The eyes tense too early, the shoulders brace, the head moves a fraction of a second before impact.
Owen had not done any of that, and it was not easy to achieve. Even less so when he knew everything had to come out perfectly on the first take.
Owen brought one hand to his struck cheek and looked at Sadie, his eyes slightly watery, clearly not having expected such a hard hit.
Sadie was also looking at him, her chest rising and falling with her uneven breathing.
"Forty-nine years..." she said, her voice trembling with restrained anger. "I was with him for forty-nine years."
Owen did not respond. He only looked at her, and that was when Sadie began the monologue.
Not as if she were calmly explaining something, but like someone being forced to reopen a wound that had been closed for far too long. She told him about her husband, about Richard, about the years they had shared, and about the life they had built together. She reminded Mike that he had never asked enough.
She told him they had a daughter who died at thirty-nine. Almost forty, yes. A full adult life by anyone's standards. But for parents, losing a daughter always felt unnatural.
When their daughter died, San Junipero did not exist yet.
There was no transition, no digital eternity.
There was only loss.
Later, when Richard became ill and was offered the possibility of transitioning, he refused because their daughter was not there.
How could he accept eternity in a place where she did not exist?
Owen listened, his cheek still red. It showed in his expression that he understood too late that he had spoken about something he did not understand. He had touched someone else's wound, believing Richard's choice had been selfishness, when in truth it had been love.
Then Kogonada's voice was heard, "Cut!"
"Good work, Sadie, Owen," Kogonada said, looking at each of them separately.
His gaze lingered on Owen for a second longer.
During filming, Kogonada had already had several opportunities to see his level firsthand. Sadie was very good, there was no doubt about that. She was coming off The Whale, had theater experience, and possessed a very solid presence in front of the camera. But she was also an actress Kogonada still had to adjust from time to time.
With Owen, it was different.
Not because he did not need direction. No actor was above that. But the corrections he required were usually minimal.
That made sense to Kogonada. He had seen Owen's work in Good Will Hunting. It was a performance worthy of an Oscar nomination, and it made perfect sense that he had won Best Actor at Cannes.
But seeing him up close was something else.
"Thank you," Owen and Sadie said almost in unison.
Sadie, however, quickly looked at Owen's cheek.
"Are you okay?" she asked, concerned.
She had let herself go, just as he had asked. The slap had landed exactly where it was supposed to, cleanly and without hitting his ear, but it had not been a gentle touch. She had not used all her strength, of course, but it had not been a light slap either.
Owen rubbed his cheek lightly and gave her a thumbs-up, "I'm fine."
Sadie did not look entirely convinced, but at least she did not insist.
After that, they repeated Kelly's monologue a couple more times. Without the slap. They already had the main shot of the impact, and it had come out perfectly.
From that point on, they filmed coverage: close-ups of Sadie after the hit, Owen's reactions, tighter shots of the conversation, and a few angles needed to give the scene options in editing.
Then they filmed a few more takes they needed on the beach at night.
When the day ended, everyone knew they had gotten through the most difficult part of the shoot. There were four days left on the schedule, or rather three and a half, since Saturday would only be a half day to wrap production.
What remained was simpler. The hardest part was already behind them.
Owen began the drive home feeling quite satisfied with the day. As he drove his Nissan back home, his mind turned to the project Jenna had been offered.
Trey Edward as director was not the problem. But The Weeknd's name being attached to the script, especially after The Idol, still set off far too many alarms for him.
He did not want to tell Jenna what she should do. But he definitely needed to make her reconsider the situation before accepting anything.
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