Chapter 138: Ch-131
I silently kept reading the screenplay in the back of our car.
"Do you remember when we snorkeled on that island we booked a few years ago? That was fun, wasn't it?"
I shot a deadpan stare at my mother, only to receive a mischievous grin in return. She had decided in her utmost wisdom to try to make me break character. After the first day, it had become a game of sorts between us, one I was oddly enjoying—but I wouldn't let it show, or she'd only double down.
After a few minutes of a tense stare-off, she sighed. "Such a heartless son I have, who won't even speak to his mother, even though she's going thousands of miles away tomorrow."
I picked up my trusty notepad and scribbled my response: Dick move!
Mum could only giggle at my words, while I rolled my eyes at her childish behavior.
Just then, we reached our location. It had been a very long drive from LA to Phoenix. We could have taken my private jet, but it was out for its yearly maintenance. Instead of taking a commercial flight or even renting a private jet, I chose the six-hour drive. A flight wouldn't have saved much time, given the security checks and inevitable delays. Not to mention, my general aversion to flying.
"What are you thinking?" Mum asked when I didn't get out of the car immediately.
I opened my mouth to reply but closed it again. My mother was a devious woman. I wrote down: That was good. I almost slipped.
Mum sighed before leaning in to hug me. "I'm proud of you, son. I still don't like you doing this, but I'm proud of you for striving to achieve it."
Her words touched me deeply, and I softly rubbed her back in response.
"Come on now," Mum said, stepping back and motioning toward the door. "Let's get you settled in the hotel room before you go off to start rehearsals."
The hotel life had become standard for me whenever I wasn't shooting in LA, New York, or London, where we had family homes. Filming [Perks] and [Brick] had taught me a lot about living out of a suitcase, as both were shot far from my family homes.
For this film, the directors took a unique approach. The entire production would be shot in sequential order—a rarity in the industry. Moreover, real locations were being used instead of elaborate Hollywood sets. That's why we started in Phoenix, Arizona, though it was standing in for Albuquerque, New Mexico. The producers had chosen Arizona for the better tax credits, saving nearly half a million dollars in production costs.
After settling into my hotel room and resting for a couple of hours, my entourage and I drove to the rehearsal location. Other than me, there was Tobias and my security team. Calling them an entourage might be a stretch, but I liked using the word. Mum stayed back at the hotel since she didn't have anything to do at the rehearsals especially when I was not speaking.
Walking into the practice studio felt a little strange. Meeting new faces to work with for months is jarring for anyone, and it was doubly so for me, given that almost everyone thought they already knew me. Adding to the awkwardness was my self-imposed silence.
"Oh my God!" a cute little 9-year-old exclaimed as soon as she spotted me outside the studio. "Mom, do you see him? It's Troy!"
I recognized her immediately, thanks to my power of déjà vu and the unique circumstances of this timeline. She was Abigail Breslin. Like me, she had made her feature film debut under M. Night Shyamalan. While I had done [The Sixth Sense], she starred in [Signs]—a film I'd been offered as her brother but couldn't take due to scheduling conflicts with [Harry Potter].
Urged by her mother, Abigail stepped closer, her wide eyes shining. "Hi, Troy. I'm Abigail. I love [Harry Potter] a lot."
This could go very badly if I didn't handle it carefully. I pulled out my notepad and carefully wrote a longer message than usual: I know you. Loved you in [Signs]. I'm not speaking currently to prepare for the role.
Abigail squinted a little as she read my chicken scratch of a writing. I know my penmanship isn't great, but does it really matter? Most people type everything out these days.
"Don't mind him, hon," Tobias said, stepping in to defuse the moment. "Troy's trying something new by practicing method acting. He won't speak to anyone on set until his character does as well."
Abigail looked a little crestfallen but quickly recovered. "I understand," she said with a small nod. "It's all for the role, right?"
I nodded seriously before offering her my hand and pointing toward the studio with the other. Her face lit up with understanding. Taking my hand in hers, she played along as though we were already siblings like our characters, and together, we walked inside.
The studio was bustling with the rest of the cast and crew. Steve Carell, Greg Kinnear, Alan Arkin, and, of course, Toni Collette were all present.
"Hi, Troy!" Toni greeted me enthusiastically. I gave her a silent wave, surprising her. I continued waving politely to everyone before taking a seat beside Abigail.
The room grew quiet as everyone turned their curious gazes toward me, clearly puzzled by my silence. Tobias, who was standing just behind me, took the reins of the situation.
"Hello, everyone!" Tobias called out, drawing their attention. "I'm Tobias, Troy's assistant. You might be wondering why Troy greeted you all so coldly. No, he's not like this all the time. He has vowed not to speak with anyone until his character speaks in the film. So please don't take his lack of speech as disrespect."
"Wow, that's dedication," Steve Carell said, raising an eyebrow before turning to Alan Arkin. "I guess you should start taking some cocaine, Alan. It'd be great for your character."
Alan Arkin, never one to let a jab go unanswered, shot back effortlessly, "By that logic, you should leave your wife and start sleeping with men."
"Gentlemen," Greg Kinnear interjected with exasperation, "there is a child among us."
Toni Collette patted Greg's arm gently. "Calm down, Greg. It's pretty tame compared to some of the other things they could've said."
Not one to miss the moment, I whipped out my notepad and wrote a sarcastic message for Abigail: I hate them already.
Abigail giggled beside me, and all I could do was smile at her innocent, delighted face.
Meanwhile, Valerie Faris and Jonathan Dayton, the directors, exchanged knowing grins.
"I don't think we could have asked for a better cast," Jonathan said, turning to his wife.
"I concur," she replied, before addressing the cast. "Okay, before we begin rehearsals, let's start with a bonding exercise!"
"What bonding exercise?" Greg asked warily.
Valerie and Jonathan stood and motioned for all of us to follow them outside. Though skeptical, I complied and walked back out to the parking lot, where a bright yellow minibus awaited us. It looked eerily similar to the one from the original timeline of the movie.
"All of you," Jonathan said, gesturing to the bus, "get on this van and go out for a picnic as a family. We've prepared a food basket for you to enjoy. Valerie and I will follow in a separate car."
I stared at them incredulously but kept my thoughts to myself. This was nuts.
"I know what you're thinking," Valerie said with a sly smile. "But we want you all to feel like a family as much as you're portraying one. So, get your butts in the van and try to stay in character as much as you can. During this outing, you should even call each other by their character names."
Suppressing a snort, I climbed into the van, silently impressed with how well the directors were leaning into this immersive exercise. Staying in character was easy for me after practicing so intensely over the past few days.
As I got into the van, I caught sight of my reflection in the rearview mirror. The almost unrecognizable person staring back at me gave me pause. For this role, I had dyed my hair and eyebrows jet black. It wasn't far from how I looked in my younger years, but the past few years had turned my hair a rich dark brown. Seeing the stark black again was strange, like looking at a ghost of my past self.
Slowly, the rest of the cast filed into the van.
"Hi, Dwayne!" Abigail squealed excitedly, fully embracing her role as my on-screen sister and calling me by my character's name.
I waved at her lazily, keeping my expression bored and uninterested. No way was I breaking my vow of silence.
As the actors took their seats, Steve Carell slid into the spot next to me.
"Hello, Dwayne," he greeted, shaking my hand. "How's it going?"
I responded with a so-so gesture, earning a sympathetic nod.
"Yeah, I get it," Steve said with a mock sigh. "I haven't been doing great either—trouble sleeping and the usual depression."
Soon, Alan Arkin, Toni Collette, and Greg Kinnear joined us, as Steve continued his one-sided conversation with me.
"All right! Is everyone ready for the greatest adventure?" Greg called out with exaggerated enthusiasm.
Catching his eye in the rearview mirror, I rolled mine dramatically. Greg, trying his best to stay in character, fought back a laugh.
"I want to kill myself again," Steve stage-whispered.
"Why did I have to birth a pussy like you?" Alan shot back, his voice dripping with mock disdain. "Pretty sure you got switched at the hospital."
"Everyone, can we please just go quietly? We're already late," Toni interjected, clearly irritated.
"Grandpa, why are you calling Dad a cat?" Abigail asked innocently, her expression a perfect mix of confusion and curiosity.
"Good, let's go then!" Greg announced, ignoring the chaos, and hit the gas pedal as though none of it had happened.
The banter was hilarious, and I barely managed to suppress my laughter. The dynamic between everyone was so natural it felt like we'd already been a family for years. The lighthearted back-and-forth continued for a solid ten minutes before Alan broke the flow with a loud proclamation.
"Stop the car. I have to pee."
"Ugh, Dad," Greg groaned in annoyance. "Couldn't you have gone at home? We were literally there a few minutes ago."
"I have bladder control issues," Alan retorted without missing a beat. "Unless you want me to christen this precious bus of yours, you'd better pull over."
"Jeez, let the old man pee, Richard," Steve chimed in. "I don't want him anywhere near me when he does his business."
"He doesn't have to pee," Greg replied, eyeing Alan through the rearview mirror. "He probably just wants to snort some… stuff. I know him."
Alan, unfazed, smirked. "The next red light you stop at, I'm getting out of here."
The impending showdown made it increasingly difficult for me to keep my bored expression intact.
"For God's sake, can't you just pull over, Richard?" Toni asked, her tone exasperated.
Right on cue, a traffic light ahead turned red, and Alan, already poised for his escape, prepared to bolt. But in a burst of petty brilliance, Greg slammed the gas and sped through the intersection, eliciting a cacophony of honks from angry drivers.
That was it for me. I broke, erupting into uncontrollable laughter at their antics. Steve, my partner in chaos, joined me, his loud chuckles blending with my cackling. Soon, even Toni, Alan, and Abigail were laughing along.
Greg, despite playing the frustrated son, couldn't hide the huge grin spreading across his face.
I doubted that laughing violated my vow of silence, and even if it did, I didn't care. This makeshift family was absurdly entertaining, and I was enjoying every second of it.
We hadn't filmed a single scene yet, but I could already tell this would be one of the most memorable shoots of my career. The camaraderie and natural chemistry among the cast were undeniable. With every major player either already an Oscar nominee or destined to become one, it was clear I was in the company of some of Hollywood's finest.
(Break)
"Action!" Valerie's voice rang out, marking the start of my first scene in the movie.
I lay on my bed, pretending to read an exceptionally boring book by some old philosopher, when the door creaked open. Toni Collette walked in with Steve Carell trailing a few feet behind her.
"Dwayne, hi! Uncle Frank's here," Toni said, gesturing at the man behind her. I sat up lazily, my disinterest palpable as the camera followed my every move.
"He doesn't mind, Frank. We've talked," Toni assured Steve.
Hearing her mention that I'd talked, I rolled my eyes in the background, a subtle jab at the absurdity of it since I hadn't spoken in days.
Steve hesitated, glancing back toward the hallway. "I know, I know," Toni said sympathetically, her voice laced with forced reassurance. "But we can't have you sleeping alone. The doctor said… I'm sorry. I have to insist."
Maintaining a perfectly deadpan expression, I got up from the bed and shuffled out of the room, my exhaustion written across my face as the camera captured every nuance.
"Cut!" Valerie called out, her voice brimming with approval. "That was perfect, everyone. Especially you, Troy—that eye-roll in the background? Chef's kiss."
I gave her a small bow in acknowledgment.
"Let's move on to the next scene," Jonathan added. "Troy, you can step out for a bit. Toni, Steve, you're up next."
With a thumbs-up, I exited to prep for my next moment. Acting without lines was proving to be far more challenging than I'd anticipated—every glance, gesture, and expression had to carry weight. The viewers should never feel that my potential was wasted in this movie.
(Break)
"Action!"
I trudged lethargically back to my room, where Steve Carell sat on his cot, looking lost in thought. Using simple hand gestures, I indicated it was time to eat.
"What? Dinner?" Steve asked, his voice soft, his brows furrowed in confusion.
I nodded.
"What? You don't talk anymore?"
I shook my head, my exhaustion radiating through every motion.
"Why?" he pressed.
I rolled my eyes, a silent rebuke to his unnecessary questions.
Steve seemed to catch on and ventured a guess. "You can talk, you just choose not to."
I nodded, then pointed toward a painting of an old German philosopher hanging on the wall.
"Is that Nietzsche?" he asked, squinting at the painting.
I nodded again.
"You don't speak because of Friedrich Nietzsche?"
Ignoring him entirely, I turned around and walked toward the family living room, my disinterest in engaging with him crystal clear.
"Cut!" Jonathan called out. "Perfect shot! Let me just review it."
Relief flooded me as the day's smooth filming came to an end. Now I can finally go back to my hotel room and maybe book a massage or something…
"Oh my God!" a female voice screamed, breaking me out of my reverie. "Troy! Steve! Come fast. Alan's fallen down. I think he's having a heart attack!"
Adrenaline spiked as I rushed toward the living room, all thoughts of rest replaced by dread.
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