Monday, July 17, 2023
Joe Keery opened his eyes at around eight in the morning.
'Today it begins!' Joe thought, practically jumping out of bed. Excitement immediately surged through his body.
His room wasn't very large and was a little messy, true to his style.
In one corner rested his electric guitar and a regular acoustic one, surrounded by a couple of cables, while the walls were decorated with a few vinyl records and indie rock band posters he had collected over the years.
He walked barefoot, opened the blinds to let in the daylight, and started searching through his closet for some clothes. He wanted to look presentable enough for today.
After changing and tying the laces of his sneakers, he gave himself a quick look in the mirror and left his room for the dining area with a smile on his face.
He lived in North Hollywood, sharing a modest two-bedroom apartment with his roommate, Ryan, an independent sound technician.
In a city as expensive as Los Angeles, paying the fixed expenses and rent on your own was difficult if you didn't have a completely stable and well-paying job.
It took him only a few steps to reach the dining area, which was directly connected to the kitchen in a rather small space.
There, sitting at the table, was Ryan. He was eating a bowl of cereal in complete silence, his hair messy and dark circles under his eyes revealing that he hadn't slept very well.
"Good morning! The morning is here!" Joe greeted with great enthusiasm.
Ryan, however, didn't think that was a very appropriate attitude for eight in the morning. He slowly looked up, his eyes heavy with exhaustion, though he knew perfectly well why his friend was so happy.
"Hey," Ryan muttered half-heartedly.
"The atmosphere is a little depressing around here. Let me bring in some light," Joe said, ignoring his roommate's sour expression.
He walked to the main window and fully opened the blinds, letting a flood of sunlight pour into the apartment all at once.
Ryan immediately frowned and raised a hand to shield his eyes from the daylight's glare. "You're way too cheerful..." he muttered under his breath as he took another spoonful of cereal.
Joe let out a small laugh as he headed to the bathroom. He splashed cold water on his face and looked into the mirror to fix his hair.
His hair was notably thick, with a natural volume that always stood out. He tried to tame it a little with his hands and returned to the living area.
He went straight to the kitchen, grabbed a clean bowl, poured himself a generous amount of milk along with a mountain of cereal, and sat down at the table directly across from Ryan.
Ryan looked at him and asked, "Nervous?"
"Of course," Joe replied, nodding immediately.
Even though he was overflowing with energy and excitement, he was extremely nervous on the inside.
And for good reason. Today, Monday, Joe would officially begin rehearsals for Shut Up and Dance, which would run from Monday through Saturday.
Then, on Monday of the following week, principal photography would finally begin.
This was precisely why he had gotten up so eager. He had managed to land the lead role in an episode of the highly anticipated anthology series from the young man Hollywood had been talking about nonstop since last year: Owen Ashford.
Even though it was an anthology series with standalone stories in every episode, leading one of them was no small achievement.
As Ashford's next major project following his overwhelming success in film, the production was already carrying a tremendous amount of attention and hype, both from the specialized press and the general public.
Within industry circles, strong rumors were already circulating that streaming giants like Netflix, Amazon, and HBO were locked in a quiet war to acquire the distribution rights.
It would be Owen's official debut as a television writer.
And after witnessing the phenomenon of Good Will Hunting in theaters, where experts were already considering several Oscar nominations a certainty, including Best Original Screenplay, almost no one doubted the quality of this new series.
From the information Owen himself had shared, Black Mirror looked incredible: a science fiction and psychological thriller anthology exploring the darkest aspects of human nature and the unpredictable impact of technology on our lives.
Joe had already read the complete script for his episode, and his initial reaction upon finishing the last page had left him deeply impressed.
The script was brilliant, tense, and nerve-racking, constructed like a race-against-the-clock thriller that never let you breathe.
But what had truly left him stunned was the final twist; an incredibly dark narrative turn regarding the true actions of the character he had been cast to portray.
Finishing it had left him firmly convinced that if they managed to capture that atmosphere on screen, the episode would be a resounding success that everyone would be talking about for weeks after its release.
For Joe, this role represented a massive leap forward in an acting career that, until just a few weeks ago, had been completely stagnant.
His union credit history was depressing for someone his age: a few ultra-low-budget independent productions in Chicago's indie theater circuit, his hometown, followed by a supporting role with barely three lines in an episode of Chicago Fire and a brief appearance with no real continuity in Empire.
Invisible credits that had brought him very little fame and even less money.
In fact, his primary source of income in Los Angeles was still the national commercial he had filmed some time ago for KFC and another for Domino's Pizza.
He mainly lived off the residual royalties he received whenever networks re-aired those old commercials on television.
To stretch his budget and cover the city's fixed expenses, Joe had to work part-time as a waiter in the afternoons and then as a bartender at night.
And at the same time, he had to keep looking for auditions on his own, or hope his ineffective agent brought him something.
But now, everything had changed. Thanks to this role at Second Take Films, his contract had been finalized for the hefty sum of forty-five thousand dollars.
Of that total, the production company had already deposited half simply for signing, and they would pay him the rest once filming concluded.
It was an enormous amount of money for him, especially considering it represented less than a month of work when rehearsals and filming days were combined.
Joe knew Owen had been generous with the cast budget.
Even Mark, his agent, who had gone to Second Take Films' offices fully prepared to fight for the best deal possible, had been surprised by the initial offer.
For an actor with his profile, the industry standard for an independent project usually ranged between twenty and thirty thousand dollars.
With incredible luck and an aggressive negotiation that came close to risking rejection, they might have managed to squeeze out around thirty-five thousand.
Receiving forty-five thousand was fantastic news, allowing him to breathe easy for the first time in years.
Because of this money, Joe decided to quit his job as a waiter.
With the forty-five thousand dollars from the contract, he had enough money to cover his fixed expenses and live comfortably for nearly two years, assuming the extreme scenario in which he generated no additional income during that time, which would be fairly unlikely.
But more than a financial decision, it was a matter of logistics.
With rehearsal sessions demanding between four and six hours a day, combined with future filming days that would easily exceed eight hours daily, keeping his waiter job had become physically impossible.
However, he decided to keep his night shift as a bartender. Since it was a late-night schedule, he preferred not to give it up entirely, ensuring he had an extra financial cushion in case anything went wrong.
Ryan looked at him from across the table and softened his tone.
"Man, you don't have to be nervous. You've already gotten through the hardest part of the process, which was beating out thousands of actors in the audition. Including guys represented by huge agencies. You're the best."
Ryan wasn't exaggerating.
The initial casting call, which had been publicly posted on the Backstage platform, had surely attracted thousands of applicants.
And when you added the actors with formal representation who had entered directly into the more advanced stages of casting, the competition had been fierce.
Landing the lead role after essentially emerging from the shadows of Backstage, because although Joe technically belonged to an agency, he was internally ignored by his representatives, proved that his acting talent had prevailed on pure merit.
"I know, but that's exactly what makes it more pressure," Joe replied before taking another spoonful of cereal.
That selection process had lasted for weeks and had been intense. He remembered the nerves of waiting for phone calls to find out whether he was advancing to the next round, and the anxiety of the final auditions.
It had been a tremendous achievement.
But even though he now had the director's complete validation, he felt that the real test began today.
He had to prove on set that they hadn't made a mistake choosing him.
He was going to lead an episode that probably cost more than a million dollars to produce, his first major project as the undisputed lead, and the weight of carrying the story on his shoulders and making sure everything worked was a significant mental burden.
"You're going to do great," Ryan assured him, getting up from his chair and giving him an affectionate pat on the shoulder. "If you acted well enough to crush the audition and beat everyone else, you're not going to have any trouble following a director's instructions on set."
Ryan walked over to the kitchen sink and set down his empty bowl. As he turned on the faucet to wash it, he asked over his shoulder,
"What time do you have to be there?"
"At nine. My agent is picking me up and taking me to the offices," Joe replied. He fell silent for a second before adding with a strange smile, as if he still had trouble processing his own words, "I never thought I'd say that last part."
Ryan made a dismissive face and let out an ironic laugh. "Your agent should be fired. I still can't believe he gets ten percent of your paycheck when he didn't lift a single finger to get you this job."
Joe simply laughed but didn't add anything else on the subject.
He was signed with Gray Talent Group, a corporate agency whose main operations were based in Chicago, but which maintained a much smaller satellite office in Los Angeles.
Mark, the junior agent assigned to him when he arrived, had rarely, if ever, managed to get him a decent audition.
Between the limited industry influence that branch held in the West Coast market, Joe's age, and a résumé that didn't stand out, he was completely buried in the system.
"Did you see that Good Will Hunting already passed two hundred and sixty million?" Ryan asked from the sink, sounding mildly surprised.
Though, in truth, it wasn't that shocking anymore. The initial amazement over the movie's insane return on investment had already faded for most people in Hollywood. By this point, it almost seemed normal.
Still, seeing the box office counter refuse to slow down continued to draw attention.
Joe nodded while chewing a mouthful of cereal. He waited until he swallowed before answering.
"It looks like it could reach three hundred million, maybe even surpass it at this rate."
"Yeah, it totally deserves it. The movie is a genuine masterpiece," Ryan agreed confidently.
He had gone to see it in theaters with his girlfriend a couple of weeks earlier, and the experience had left a lasting impression on him. For the first time in a very long while, a movie playing in theaters had made him feel that the price of admission was completely worth it.
"It's incredible that a guy ten years younger than us made it," Joe murmured.
"He's the indie genius, man," Ryan said with a crooked smile.
"But now Barbenheimer is coming. That's going to take away a ton of screens and box office revenue. Hopefully it won't hit it too hard," Ryan added, frowning slightly with a hint of concern.
"That's going to be a true historic event for cinema," Joe agreed, letting out a breath of amazement.
The so-called "Barbenheimer" had become an unprecedented internet cultural phenomenon. It had all begun in early April 2023, when Warner Bros. officially announced that Barbie would be released worldwide on July 21.
People online immediately noticed that the date coincided exactly with the release of Oppenheimer, Christopher Nolan and Universal's massive prestige project.
At first, the joke came from the absurd contrast between two completely different films: a satirical comedy about a pink plastic doll and an ultra-dense historical drama about the creator of the atomic bomb.
However, during the final weeks of June, the meme had escalated to massive proportions thanks to several key factors.
The idea of watching both movies as a double feature stopped being just a fan joke when celebrities themselves joined the trend.
First, Tom Cruise posted photos on social media showing tickets he had purchased for both films.
Then, Margot Robbie and director Greta Gerwig responded by taking photos of themselves buying tickets for Oppenheimer, effectively legitimizing the challenge in the eyes of the public.
From that point onward, the phenomenon became monetizable. Unofficial merchandise began appearing everywhere, such as fan-made T-shirts featuring hybrid designs that combined Barbie's bright pink aesthetic with the dark silhouette of a nuclear mushroom cloud.
In those final days, the term was already appearing seriously in headlines from outlets like Variety and the BBC, reporting that tens of thousands of people had formally booked double-feature tickets for opening day.
What had initially seemed like a brutal box office war between two major studios had transformed into a perfect alliance thanks to the internet.
"Even so, Good Will Hunting's legs at the box office seem incredibly strong..." Ryan commented.
He enjoyed analyzing box office numbers and revenue metrics.
"Well, I'm off. Good luck today, you'll do great. Let me know how everything goes, and try to become friends with Owen," Ryan said with a slight smile as he grabbed his backpack and headed for the door.
Joe smiled faintly and shook his head, simply raising a hand in farewell.
Ryan was a huge Owen fan. He had already added Good Will Hunting to his Letterboxd profile as one of his four favorite movies of all time.
Joe couldn't blame him. He had loved the movie too when he saw it in theaters, but Ryan took it a step further, he was a dedicated follower.
He watched all of Owen's interviews and never missed a single short film, video, or vlog that Owen uploaded to his YouTube channel.
That was why, ever since he learned that Joe had landed the lead role in one of Owen's projects, Ryan had constantly joked that he needed to become Owen's friend.
He kept insisting it would be great for networking in Hollywood and that, judging by his vlogs, Owen seemed like a genuinely authentic and good-hearted guy, very different from the superficial stereotype commonly found in the industry.
Joe didn't disagree.
The truth was that he hadn't interacted much with Owen yet.
During the casting process, Owen hadn't been present at every stage.
However, in the few instances where they had crossed paths, Owen had kept a low profile, mostly observing quietly from the back of the room, making only very specific comments and greeting everyone with impeccable politeness.
Moreover, the simple fact that Owen had opened auditions through Backstage for a project of this caliber, and had actually ended up choosing someone who came from that platform without caring about the lack of a major agency behind him or an impressive résumé, said a lot about him.
Combined with how well he was paying his cast, it showed that he wasn't the typical greedy producer so common in the industry.
It made Joe want to get to know him better and understand how his mind worked, but he knew that would happen in due time if he was lucky enough to have the opportunity.
'Maybe I'll run into him today or sometime this week,' Joe thought as he hurried through the last spoonfuls of his breakfast.
A few minutes after Ryan left, Joe's phone vibrated on the table.
It was a message from Mark, his agent. He was already downstairs waiting for him in the car.
Joe quickly gathered his things, checked that he wasn't forgetting anything, and headed down the building's stairs.
Once outside, he spotted the vehicle, opened the passenger-side door, and climbed in, greeting Mark with courtesy and a smile.
Although deep down Joe shared Ryan's opinion that the agency hadn't lifted a single finger to get him this opportunity, he understood the rules perfectly.
Hollywood worked that way.
There was nothing to gain by acting cold or dismissive toward his own representative. At the end of the day, business was business, and maintaining a good relationship was essential.
Besides, the agency's legal team had helped review the contract's clauses, speeding up both the negotiations and the signing process.
He knew that after this achievement, Gray Talent Group would stop ignoring him internally, position him much more favorably, and start considering him for bigger projects in the future.
Everything moved through mutual interests, and Joe was fully prepared to take advantage of that momentum.
Of course, he was also well aware that the moment his career truly took off and he had the chance to jump to one of the major agencies, he wouldn't hesitate for a second.
But today was a day to focus on rehearsals.
...
Hours later, and in a state far removed from California, the situation was completely different.
Owen was staying at an exclusive hotel in Manhattan, relaxing in a truly impressive presidential suite.
The suite featured a massive open-concept living area, decorated with contemporary designer furniture, high ceilings, and enormous floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a spectacular panoramic view of New York City's skyscrapers.
Owen was already fully dressed and ready for a major red carpet event. He wore a pristine white T-shirt beneath a modern-cut black blazer, matching dark trousers, and elegant dress shoes.
There were exactly thirty minutes left before they had to leave for AMC Lincoln Square.
Owen was sitting comfortably on the living room sofa, patiently waiting for Jenna.
She had finished showering quite a while ago, but had immediately claimed the master bedroom entirely for herself, closing the door and forbidding Owen from entering.
Jenna had decided to get ready on her own so she could completely surprise him with the final result.
The decision to prepare separately had been mutual.
For this trip, they had chosen to skip all the usual hassle that came with an event of this caliber: no entourage of makeup artists, stylists, or professional hairdressers wandering around the suite.
Since this was meant to be a more intimate getaway, neither of them felt like bringing strangers into their room to spend hours getting them ready.
They both knew perfectly well that they could handle it themselves, even if they admittedly lacked the expert hands of a team that did that sort of thing for a living.
"I'm ready!"
Owen heard Jenna call out from the bedroom.
Until that moment, Owen had been focused on playing a casual game on his phone.
It was one of those countless games that a misleading internet advertisement had tempted him into downloading and that, unsurprisingly, had absolutely nothing to do with what the original ad had promised.
He let out an annoyed breath at the scam, locked his phone, and stood up.
'Finally,' he thought, slipping the phone into his pocket as he started walking toward the bedroom.