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SH - Chapter 17: Castings
🕑 Added 2025-09-02 16:05:45 +0000 UTCFriday, April 1, 2022
Five days had passed since the 2022 Oscars ended. Today was the day Owen would see Sophie again. They would watch The Name of the Wind together at her apartment, a sort of date disguised under the excuse of watching a movie, though both of them knew it was something more.
As for post-production, everything was going smoothly. It had been about eight days since they started, and the pace was nearly perfect.
Owen spent long hours with Matt and the editor in a small editing room.
Both sat in front of the screen, going over the shots again and again, deciding which scenes to keep, which to cut, and which to rearrange to achieve the desired effect. The editor carried out their requests, but he also made suggestions, proposing cuts and transitions that sometimes surprised even Matt.
The film was beginning to take real shape. Each day they made a little more progress, and the vision they had in their heads was now visible on the screen. Owen had no doubt: the first cut would be ready by April 20.
That way, they could submit it to the festival, though whether it would be accepted was another matter. If accepted, they would then have to deliver the finished film, but there would be plenty of time for that.
Once accepted, Owen’s goal was clear: secure a deal to bring Paranormal Activity to theaters.
Although Palm Springs was not Cannes or Sundance, it was still no small thing. It remained a renowned festival with an audience and media coverage. More than 130,000 people attended every year—not just critics or experts, but also movie lovers, tourists, and, most importantly, distributors. Sales agents, producers, executives from streaming platforms and mid-sized companies, all keeping an eye on anything that created buzz.
For that, the best-case scenario was that the film became a hit at the festival, a success with the audience. The theater where it was screened needed to be packed; if the festival saw that kind of reaction, they would grant them an extra showing.
It wouldn’t be easy. The competition was fierce, with many films in the running, and distributors were selective, only acquiring what they believed had true commercial or artistic potential.
But it was possible, because this wasn’t just any film. Paranormal Activity in its first life had been a phenomenon. True, that was back in 2007, but Owen’s version was better in almost every way.
The script had been polished and refined with precision. The scares were better timed, the tension more gradual, more unsettling. And the performances were much stronger. Sophie and he had managed to build a nuanced relationship on screen, close, empathetic. The audience wouldn’t just be frightened; they would care about them.
At that point, Owen had about $13,500 left in his bank account. He still had a decent cushion to survive for another couple of months while continuing post-production and approaching the festival at the end of June.
But he wasn’t fooling himself. Entering the festival guaranteed nothing. Even if the film was well-received, even if he managed to strike a deal with a distributor, that didn’t mean immediate money. Between negotiations, contracts, release schedules, and marketing campaigns, it could take months. If everything went well, maybe the film would be released in theaters by October in a middle scenario, and November 2022 at the latest.
So he couldn’t just sit around and live off the $13,500. During those four months when he could afford not to have a regular job, he was obligated to move, to seek auditions, and to earn some money.
Since filming had wrapped on March 24, he had been looking for auditions on Backstage. He didn’t have an agent. The acting career of the original Owen had been practically nonexistent.
The original Owen hadn’t made contacts during his time at the university acting program, and he also refused to accept minor or background roles.
He found an audition titled The Girl, a film with a $3 million budget. Of course, the lead role was for an actress, but they were looking for the protagonist’s love interest. An important supporting role, and very well paid: $16,000 for four weeks of work. Almost as much as he had spent on Paranormal Activity.
Owen tried his luck and decided to apply. His résumé on Backstage was practically nonexistent, like that girl Emma Scott whose CV Matt and he had seen, showing very little work experience. In fact, Owen’s was even worse.
The only thing he could display on his profile was a video recorded at home, performing a monologue against a white wall with improvised lighting. He also added that he had spent two years at the University of Southern California (USC) – School of Dramatic Arts in the acting program, though of course no one knew he had been expelled and his grades were terrible.
Even so, he decided to apply without expecting anything. But to his great surprise, they called him.
For a moment Owen happily thought that in this new life and slightly alternate world everything might be easier. He was very wrong.
He went in with hope. He dressed well, reviewed the script, practiced the key emotions, visualized the scene. But when he arrived, reality struck him mercilessly.
There were more than two hundred people waiting. All men in their twenties or thirties. Most likely all of them had far stronger résumés than his, at least in this life. Several were accompanied by agents who spoke quietly with the casting assistants.
Owen sat and waited. Two hours. When they finally called his name, he entered another room where a table of casting directors awaited.
His face was neutral. Controlled. He knew it was highly unlikely he would be chosen. But since he had made the trip and waited, he would do the damn audition.
He handed over his résumé and one of the directors took it.
He read it and frowned. He passed it to the woman next to him. They exchanged a brief look, and she muttered something barely audible.
“You are… Owen?” the first one asked, finally looking up.
“Yes,” Owen replied, not understanding why they seemed confused.
“You applied through Backstage?”
“That’s right,” Owen answered calmly.
“That’s strange…” the man muttered under his breath, flipping through the paper again. “Must have been a system error.”
The phrase wasn’t meant to wound, but it was obvious they hadn’t expected him to be there. They couldn’t understand why someone with such an empty profile had received an invitation.
Owen kept a poker face. He hadn’t expected this, though he wasn’t shocked either. More than a system error, it was likely a mistake by one of the employees responsible for reviewing Backstage applicants.
Still, out of courtesy, or simply to avoid dealing with a complaint, they let him audition.
“Well… since you’re here. Go ahead.”
Owen didn’t flinch. He walked to the center of the audition space and performed. He had conveyed far more complex emotions in front of far more demanding cameras. The dialogue he was asked to deliver was, in his view, terrible. But he wasn’t there to criticize the script. He knew how to make something decent even from mediocre material.
It was a solid minute and a half of acting. Then, when the final line was done, his face emptied of emotion and returned to neutral.
Silence.
“You can go. We’ll let you know,” said the casting man with the same expressionless tone he had used from the start.
Owen didn’t reply. He nodded slightly and walked out of the room.
Inside, silence lingered a few seconds more.
“Well… at least he can act,” the casting woman muttered, half ironically, half seriously.
“Did you see how his face changed in a second? It was like watching someone switch emotion on and off like a button,” one of the surprised assistants whispered.
“Yeah, but still… who does he think he is? Not even a thank you. Not a smile. Nothing,” said the man who had read the résumé.
As casting directors for low-to-mid budget films, they were used to actors coming in for auditions being friendly, always trying to make a good impression.
They didn’t know, but Owen hadn’t done it out of arrogance.
He had clearly heard that remark: “Must have been a system error.”
What did they expect? That he smile and thank them enthusiastically? That he play the sycophant when they had barely looked at him, as if he didn’t deserve to be there?
Years earlier, in his other life, he had also sat through endless waiting rooms. He had also been looked at condescendingly. The difference was that back then he was eighteen, inexperienced, with no proven talent. Now, even if the world ignored him, he already knew who he was.
And he wasn’t going to fake humility just to please.
He had always been professional. Courteous when it was called for. Proud, yes, but never disrespectful. If there was respect on the other side, he returned it. But if he was treated as though he were worthless, then he wouldn’t hand out smiles.
He had already achieved success in his previous life. He only needed to do it again, and this time, at an even greater height.
As expected, they never called him back.
And so it went with other castings. Every time the pay was decent, union feature films, well-funded independent movies, the number of applicants skyrocketed. Brutal competition. Hundreds of hopefuls for a single role. No matter how many times he tried: he never got the part.
In most cases, he couldn’t even make it to the in-person auditions.
On the other hand, there were the small roles, the worst-paid ones. Non-union commercials, student projects, self-financed short films, digital ads. Things that offered $200, $400, or less for entire days of shooting. Not ideal, but still work.
He managed to get accepted for a paid commercial for a fitness app. It wasn’t exactly acting, more a mix of promotional video and photoshoot, but the pay wasn’t bad: $800 for an eight-hour day, cash in hand the same day.
Since arriving in this new body, he had started training at the gym.
The former Owen had been skinny, almost skeletal from drugs, poor diet, lack of exercise, and so on. But now he was around 150–155 lbs (68–70 kg), with a slim but healthy build. Not muscular, not impressive, but with good posture, clear skin, and a face that made him fit to model for this kind of photoshoot and app promotion.
On Friday at 9 a.m., Owen said goodbye to Matt and the editor, since he had the shoot for the app. It would run from 10 a.m. to 6 p.m.
Luckily, Matt covered for him without hesitation, taking charge of supervising the editing during those hours.
“Good luck, man. See you tomorrow. Good luck with your date tonight. Remember to tell her what we talked about…” Matt said just before Owen walked out the door.
By “date” he meant Sophie. That night, after work, Owen was going to see her to watch a movie together. It wasn’t an official date, but the subtext was clear. And Matt, as a good friend, or at least someone who had become one over time, had been insisting on the same thing for days: to tell her the truth as soon as possible.
“The longer you wait, the worse it’ll be,” he had told him the night before. “If you like her, and it seems you do, tell her. Let her know who you were. Let her know you’ve changed.”
Matt knew all about Owen’s disastrous past, or at least the original Owen’s: party animal, womanizer, troublemaker, incapable of holding a serious relationship, etc. Although they hadn’t been close friends before like they were now, they had crossed paths at parties and got along in that environment, plus they had attended the same university, so he was well aware of the rumors about Owen.
Now Owen had changed completely, though Matt didn’t know him well enough to notice that his personality itself was different. What he had noticed was that Owen no longer partied, drank, or lived that lifestyle.
Matt believed he had simply hit rock bottom… and been reborn. A “character arc,” as he liked to call it.
“Yes, I know. I’ll tell her, don’t worry,” Owen said, smiling as he waved at Matt before closing the door. He knew Matt said it because he cared, and he was planning on telling Sophie anyway.
Even if he had inherited a past that wasn’t his, he still had to take responsibility for it in some way.
After eight hours of posing for cameras and lifting fake weights with a smile, sweating under artificial lights, Owen finished his job and was paid $800 in cash.
He went back to his apartment, showered, changed, put on cologne, and was ready ten minutes before Sophie arrived.
