Chapter 50: Auditions
At the Warner Bros. lot in Burbank, once Luke finalized the soundstage, the crew officially set up their production base.
Most of the film's indoor and backyard scenes would be shot on custom sets within this soundstage, while the simpler exterior shots would be filmed at a rented suburban villa. Wayne personally visited and approved both locations.
Today, the hallway outside the temporary production office was packed with actors, all lined up to audition for the film's lead roles.
Among them, Naomi Watts radiated the most confidence. She knew that as long as she didn't blow her audition in front of the producer, the female lead was practically hers.
She entered the dressing room alongside a striking Black woman. Though the two were auditioning for different roles, there was no warmth between them—until the roles were officially cast, everyone was a rival.
Once Naomi finished her makeup and left the modest prep room, the Black woman's agent leaned in and said, "Halle, you need to grab this opportunity. There aren't many roles in Hollywood that specifically call for a Black lead. This is rare. You have to find a way to impress the director and producer. I'll go sniff around for info—you get ready."
Halle gave no response, her expression calm but cold. She knew what her agent really meant—this was how the industry worked. If you wanted something, you had to be willing to pay the price.
Her appealing looks were her only real asset. She'd long accepted that. If it meant landing the role, she didn't mind following the "Julia Roberts route" and sleeping her way through the crew.
She bent down to inspect the shoes the crew had provided, carefully running her hands along the insoles and seams. She'd seen what happened when people got careless—actors stabbed by needles hidden in their shoes, or hospitalized after drinking from the wrong water bottle. Audition days were when the competition got cutthroat, and sabotage was far from rare.
Just then, her agent returned and said, "They've just called in the blonde. Get ready."
"She's not my real competition. Did you find anything out about the director?" Halle asked, uninterested in the white female role—her focus was laser-sharp.
"I found his office—it's right over there," her agent said, pointing to the right.
---
Inside the audition room, Wayne sat in the center with production manager John on one side and assistant director Luke on the other. With the film's tight budget, Luke also doubled as casting coordinator and camera operator.
After adjusting the camera and giving Wayne a nod, Luke signaled that everything was ready.
The door opened. Naomi Watts was the first to enter.
"Please start with a self-introduction," John said, taking the lead as Wayne remained silent and expressionless.
"I'm Naomi Watts, born in the UK, raised in Australia. I've only acted in one feature film so far—Happy Death Day—where I played the lead, Terry. I'm here to audition for the role of Rose."
"Okay," Wayne said calmly, passing her a single page from the script. "Let's try this scene. Luke will read with you."
Naomi exhaled silently in relief. She recognized the scene—it was from the film's climax, where Rose emotionally confronts the male lead, Chris. She had practiced it many times.
John casually flipped through her resume during the performance. It was short and straightforward: one lead role, no big projects. He glanced sideways at the blank-faced director leaning back in his chair—clearly, Naomi was already chosen, and this audition was just a formality.
John didn't mind. He knew his place and wasn't about to complicate something as trivial as a pre-decided casting.
"Okay, that's enough. Ms. Watts, we'll inform your agent of the results shortly. That'll be all for today."
"Thank you, Director!" Naomi bowed slightly, then cheekily winked at Wayne as she turned and left.
---
"What do you guys think?" Wayne asked quietly, tilting his head toward John.
"She's fine. Looks great on camera. Acting's decent—definitely good enough for this kind of film," John replied, indifferent.
"I say we lock her in for now," Luke added after reviewing the footage. "If someone better shows up later, we can reconsider."
"Alright. Next."
---
The door opened again, and Halle Berry walked in confidently. The moment Wayne and Luke saw her, their brows furrowed—not because she wasn't attractive, but because she looked too glamorous, far from the grounded character she was auditioning for.
"I'm Halle Berry. I'm a model and have done one film and one TV show," she said, addressing the trio directly. Her gaze lingered on Wayne—clearly the one in charge.
"Can you cry while smiling?" Wayne asked abruptly.
Smile while crying? The question threw her off. She blinked, momentarily confused.
"Of course... Just give me a second to get into character."
As a small-time actress without access to the full script, she had no idea this unusual request was coming. She hadn't rehearsed for anything like it.
After a few failed attempts, Halle Berry finally managed to summon the right emotions. But as the tears rolled down her cheeks, she could clearly sense the disappointment on the faces of the three men across from her.
"I'm sorry, could I try again? Just a bit more time—I know I can do better."
For trained actors, crying on cue wasn't the hard part—the challenge was not knowing exactly what kind of emotion the director was looking for.
"That's enough for now, Ms. Berry. You did very well," Luke interjected politely after exchanging a glance with Wayne. "We'll contact your agent with the results."
Once she stepped out, John shook his head and commented, "She's not the right fit. Her complexion is too light, and more importantly, she's too pretty. It throws off the tone of the character—audiences will get confused. And her acting is still very raw."
"Luke," Wayne said simply, "when we wrap up, let her agent know she's not what we're looking for."
There was no sugar-coating it. Halle Berry, who would go on to win an Oscar in the future, was at this point just a former model trying to break into acting. Her skills were too underdeveloped for the role.
At this stage of her career, she was better suited for "eye candy" roles—which ironically were the most hotly contested, especially among countless more established white actresses.
---
After hours of auditions, the three men were mentally drained. Sipping coffee, they rewatched footage and exchanged opinions.
"Luke, I like this Rebecca Rhodes—she's a great match for the role of the mother," Wayne said, pointing at one of the recordings. "Give her agent a call. John, try to negotiate her rate down."
"No problem."
"Got it."
Wayne glanced at his watch and stood up. "That's it for today. We'll review everything later. Tomorrow's another big day—hopefully, we'll find our male lead."
So far, they had only locked in two roles: the female lead and her mother. They hadn't found a suitable actor for the father role, and both servant/grandparent roles remained wide open.
Fortunately, the timeline was flexible. Wayne didn't want to settle for just anyone. This wasn't a situation where he needed a specific look or gimmick—Hollywood had plenty of capable actors to sift through.
Still, finding the right male lead was urgent. The sooner, the better. He wasn't confident they'd find someone suitable tomorrow—but he could only hope.
---
Wayne stretched his stiff neck and returned to his director's office. Sitting behind his desk, he lit a cigarette, intending to pack up and head home. But before he could, Jimmy walked in, looking visibly upset.
"What's up, Jimmy? You look like hell."
"Bad news," Jimmy said. "Morgan Freeman wants to talk to you. No idea how he got ahold of the script, but I think he's interested in one of the roles."
He frowned. "The message came through CAA—pretty much an order."
Wayne raised his eyebrows. "Morgan Freeman? He's a big fish—we're just a tiny pond. He should talk to Warner Bros. directly. I've got no time to entertain him."
Wayne had never considered using a well-known actor. He was too green to command respect, and a high-profile actor like Freeman would throw the entire production into imbalance—not to mention the paycheck. Even if Freeman agreed to a discount, the entire set would end up revolving around him.
"I still think you should meet him," Jimmy advised. "Even if you say no, it's better to do it in person. Don't forget the issues we had distributing Happy Death Day—pissing off the wrong people won't help your future."
Wayne waved it off. "He's not right for the film. Let him talk to Warner if he's serious. I've got dinner plans with Naomi—I'm heading out."
"Alright, I'll walk with you."
---
The two men hopped into a studio golf cart and headed toward the exit. Halfway there, Jimmy suddenly realized something.
"Hey... Where's your assistant? Isn't she usually glued to your side?"
Wayne looked around and noticed the same thing. He'd grown used to having Nina around—she even drove better than him.
"She's off today. I paid her early—probably went home."
"She's a good one," Jimmy said with a touch of admiration. "Not many girls take their paycheck and just go straight home."
By the time they reached the Garfield Estate, the sun had dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the grounds. The fading light reminded Wayne it was probably time to hire a few security guards—this old estate was too isolated, and he was tired of opening the gate himself every time.
---
Inside the dining room, he found Naomi already seated and waiting. Even the ever-present Hela was mysteriously absent.
"Well?" Naomi asked eagerly. "How did I do today? Not bad, right?"
"Relax," Wayne said with a smile. "Barring a miracle, the role is yours."