"You signed up for this," Harry called, but there was a trace of apology in his tone.
Daniel shrugged. "Hey, as long as it looks good, I'll forgive you in ten years."
Cate twisted a bit, testing the rope. "You realise," she said casually to Harry, "if you keep tying me up at work, people are going to talk."
"They already are," Javier said as he was sitting behind, adjusting his badge and holster. "The trades love you, amigo." His shot was also supposed to be taken today but by the looks of it, would probably get delayed.
Harry pointed at him. "Okay. Let's keep moving."
Day One drifted into twelve hours. By wrap, they'd done the tied-up master, a close-up runner on Aaron's face, a few angled shots of Simi's reactions. Less than three pages of script.
Harry went home exhausted. Greg went home calculating how many days they could afford like this.
-----
Day 2
The same warehouse and the same ropes again - along with the same smell
The schedule indicated all the work has to be completed in two days, however very few people – especially Harry - believed this schedule is correct. The production manager had assumed that this will actually stretch into a third day.
Mano makes his entrance today, along with all the rush and panic associated with him, and the audio chaos generated by Murph and Sasha outside. Also, the representation of the situation becoming an out of control crime.
Javier stood outside the door, wearing full costume with his prop gun laying on his knee. The blocked action has been rehearsed; the shot called for a door slam followed by Javier stepping into the warehouse with his gun drawn.
Harry sat with the Director of Photography (DP) in front of the monitor and said, "I want this to be very disorganized and frenetic." Then he advised the actor of Javier that he is not a suave movie cop, but rather that of a cornered animal. He told Javier, "The noise going on outside will infuriate you; however, deep down you are fearful."
Javier responded with a nod, and then Harry reiterated what he had told him previously; "There will not be a clean, polished entrance."
"Right," Harry continued, "You kick in the door like you know it's not going to open."
Meanwhile, on the floor, Daniel sat in his exact same place from yesterday; he was already bound when this was shot. Between Day 1 and Day 2 the rope had been dyed to match the continuity of Day 1. His wrists were padded under the wrap, but even so, the friction had started to leave red rings.
"You okay?" Harry asked, crouching.
"Do I have a choice?" Daniel said, but he smiled. "I'll live. Maybe."
Cate, tied beside him, had her usual composed mask on. She turned slightly, eyes on Harry.
"Are you planning to reshoot yesterday's scenes?" she asked.
He blinked. "Why would I do that?"
"You seemed… unsatisfied," she said mildly. "I figured you might want to tie us up for another twelve hours."
A few nearby crew snorted.
Harry fought the urge to rub the back of his neck. "If I reshoot it, I'll let you know," he said. "For now, this is Mano's time."
She raised an eyebrow, like she'd filed away the answer for later.
"Picture's up!" the AD called again. "Quiet, please! We're rolling on 87B."
Sound speed. Slate. Camera rolling.
"Action!"
The door slammed open so hard the frame rattled. Javier stormed in, gun drawn, eyes wild.
"Where is he?" he shouted. "Where is Simi!?"
But there was no one. It was completely empty of life.
Around noon, they had recorded Mano's entrance from three perspectives, as well as an extra handheld shot that Harry called for just before they started shooting.
The Director of Photography (DP) had an annoyed look on his face when he said, "You're slowing down the schedule."
"I get it," Harry replied. "But there's a way this moment feels right, and I don't think we've captured it yet."
"Now, you sound like Kubrick," said the Director of Photography.
"Worse people to sound like," Harry said with a shrug.
When they came back from lunch, they began to work on scenes that take place in the rest of the movie - including Murph (Michael Peña) passing out on the ground, Sasha (Michelle Rodriguez) screaming for him, pounding fists on a door, and Mano (Aaron) running towards the noise.
Since they were all located next to each other, Aaron and Simi were inside the warehouse, looking up at the camera for what would happen now. The special effects (SFX) team had rigged up a blood squib for Michael that would be triggered by him pushing on his hand near the same time they said action.
On "Action," the hallway erupted in noise: Michelle yelling, fists on metal, Michael groaning. The sound team captured it, but the camera stayed inside on Daniel and Cate.
"That's the point," Harry said to Greg. "We don't need to see it. We feel it with him."
They ran that beat too many times as well. Harry wanted the tiniest twitch in Daniel's hands when the gunshots rang out, the micro-flare in Cate's eyes when she realized the plan had gone sideways.
By late evening, Daniel's voice was hoarse from repeated lines. Cate had a faint indentation on her skin where the rope had sat all day. When Harry finally called wrap on the warehouse portion, the AD muttered something about five pages in two days.
As they unbound the actors, Daniel rubbed his wrists and glanced at Harry.
"How many more days on the climax?" he asked.
"Hmm.... maybe five more?"
Daniel groaned.
Day Three kicked off in a whole new kind of chaos: downtown Los Angeles transformed into a nondescript hospital limbo.
The production team had secured a side entrance and a corridor from a clinic that preferred to stay out of the credits. The crew arrived bright and early, hauling in gurneys, fake monitors, IV stands, and plastic curtains. The on-set medic was there to guide them on what real equipment could be moved and what needed to stay put.
Michelle Rodriguez arrived in character as Sasha, sporting a worn denim jacket, a cheap necklace, and her hair pulled back in a messy bun. Michael Peña was already set up, a blood pack taped under his shirt.
Harry walked them through the blocking.
"This is where everything falls apart for you," he said to Michelle. "You've been pulling off small cons your whole life. This is the first time you realize the stakes are life and death. No bravado. Just panic and guilt."
She nodded in understanding. "Got it. Less tough, more… just a person who messed up big time."
Michael gave a faint grin. "And I get to die again. My mom will be thrilled."
"Good news," Harry replied. "We'll do it at least fifteen times."
Michael chuckled. "I figured as much."
They started setting up outside. The camera was on a dolly, positioned slightly off to the side of the emergency doors. Extras filled the roles of nurses and orderlies; one background actor wheeled a gurney.
"Action!" the assistant director called out.
Michelle pulled Michael toward the doors, one arm around his waist while the other shoved a wad of fake cash at the nurse.
"Please!" she yelled. "He's bleeding, can't you see he's bleeding?! Take it, take the money, I don't care—"
The nurse pushed her back. "Ma'am, we're doing everything we can, you have to let go—"
They captured the moment from wide, medium, and then a tight close-up on Michelle's face as panic cracked her voice. Harry kept pushing for subtle tweaks — less yelling, more desperation; more shock, less anger.
By the time they moved inside for the heart monitor flatline, Michelle stood in the doorway, watching as the fake doctor shook his head, the long beep echoing through the hallway.
"Cut," Harry finally said. "That was beautiful. Painful. Let's do one more for safety."
"Of course," Michelle replied, cracking her neck. "There's always 'one more for safety.'"
They shared a laugh, but they got back to it.
Later that afternoon, they moved to a small motel room set up on another stage — a stained bedspread and a buzzing neon light filtering through the blinds. This was the moment Sasha found out the money was fake.
Michelle perched on the bed, her duffel bag wide open. The camera glided over her shoulder as she pulled out stacks of bills. The prop master had really gone all out: slightly off color, identical serial numbers, and that too-perfect crispness.
Harry stayed glued to the monitor, noticing her fingers start to tremble as the realization hit her.
"It's nothing," Sasha whispered in the script. "It's all… nothing."
They filmed close-ups of the bills, her hands, the way she clutched one stack to her chest as if it could somehow become real if she held on tight enough.
By the end of Day Three, those sequences were in the can. Harry was starting to feel a little less crazy. The crew, having enjoyed a day away from ropes and blood in a warehouse, seemed a bit more refreshed.
On Day Four, they set out of the city.
The rural highway stretched about an hour north of L.A., flanked by trees and scrub. Production trucks were parked along a side pull-off, keeping the main road clear for camera and picture vehicles. The fire marshal and a couple of highway patrol units were on site, ensuring that no one wandered into the shot.
They kicked things off with the interior dialogue between Aaron and Dr. Brooks.
For the first take, the camera was mounted on the hood, aimed right into the car. Jeffrey Wright was behind the wheel, his hands steady and his eyes concealed behind thin glasses. Daniel, blind, sat in the passenger seat, his hands tightly clenched in his lap.
Harry leaned in through the open driver's window.
"This is your moment of confession, but don't frame it that way," he told Jeffrey. "You're making a sales pitch. You're calm because you've convinced yourself this is all reasonable."
Jeffrey nodded. "And what about him?"
Harry turned to Daniel. "Aaron's trying to cling to some moral line, but it's starting to fray. He knows he wouldn't be alive without this guy. That makes everything happening feel even uglier."
Daniel let out a breath. "So he's both disgusted and… grateful. Great."
"Welcome to this movie," Harry replied.
They rolled.
The car moved forward slowly, following the lead truck. The camera captured the forest slipping by behind Aaron's blindfold.
"I sent her bloodwork to a very important gentleman," Brooks said in a steady tone. "His daughter's liver is failing. She has a rare blood type, the same as hers. He's going to pay us very handsomely."
Aaron swallowed hard, his jaw tight. "Us."
"Well, you're really getting a steal here," Brooks said with a smirk. "A fresh pair of eyes, thanks to the woman who tried to take you out. I'd say that's fair play."
"Cut," Harry interjected. "That was good. Let's do it again. Just dial back the warmth on 'gentleman,' Jeffrey. Make it sound more clinical."
They rolled the cameras again. And again. From the hood mount, from the backseat, and even from the passenger side with the door taken off, the camera hovering just outside the frame.
Film magazines were swapped out. The 1st AC reloaded, while the DP adjusted the ND filters as the sun peeked out and then hid behind drifting clouds. The continuity person snapped Polaroids to keep track of shadows and sweat.
"Take Seven," the script supervisor whispered, marking her notes.
By mid-afternoon, they shifted to the trunk-and-road scene—Brooks stopping the car, stepping out to "check" on Simi, the off-screen fight, the syringe, and Brooks' demise.
They didn't show the struggle; Harry knew it would hit harder as sound. So, they concentrated on Daniel.
He was in the passenger seat, just ranting about morality.
Outside, a stunt pad was laid out on the asphalt. Jeffrey and Cate went over the fight with the stunt coordinator: grab, twist, slam, the syringe prop making contact with his neck.
When the cameras rolled, they focused solely on the sound.
The boom operator stood by the open trunk, capturing the grunts, the thud of bodies, and the brief, strangled sound as Brooks fell. Daniel's expression tightened with every strange noise.
"Brooks?" he called out in the scene. "Brooks, what's going on? Is she— is she awake?"
Silence.
Then the car door slammed shut. The engine roared to life.
In the next setup, Jeffrey lay sprawled in the road, a fake syringe protruding from his neck, blood pack oozing. Cate slid into the driver's seat, slamming the door behind her.
"Cut. Nice," Harry said. "One more from a longer lens."
The AD shot him a look. "We're slipping behind."
Harry didn't look away from the monitor. "We'll make it up."
"You said that yesterday," the AD replied.
"And we will," Harry said, more confidently than he felt.
Between takes, Cate leaned against the car, watching Harry and Greg argue quietly over shot lists.
"Do you work like this on all your relationships?" she asked when he passed by.
He blinked. "What?"
"Pushing everything until it's just right," she said, tone light. "Even when everyone is tired."
He hesitated, then snorted. "I don't have relationships."
"Exactly," she said, amused. "Action, right?"
He shook his head and walked back to the monitor. Director mode again. Whatever existed between them outside the frame had to stay there.