Day Five bled into Day Six.
They knocked out the moment where Simi drags Aaron from the car, shoves him toward the roadside, tells him to go. They did a dozen variations on the way she said, "You wanted to save me. Congratulations," until Harry recognized the balance of mockery and something like reluctant respect.
Daniel managed to trip on the same rock twice; Harry joked about sending it to stunt training.
The stunt team prepped the crash all Day Five: measuring distances, walking the slope, rigging the stunt car with a roll cage, pre-checking the fuel lines for the fire shot. Safety briefings were repeated three times. The fire marshal signed off on the burn zone.
Day Six was fire.
They shot the illusion first — the car barreling toward Aaron, missing him by what would look like inches, thanks to lens compression and careful framing. Daniel stood well behind the marked safe line, but on camera, the distance shrank.
"Remember," Harry said, "you don't know she turned around. You just hear the engine, feel the ground. Then the sound is right on top of you and… gone."
Daniel nodded, blindfold in place. "I'm trusting you not to kill me."
"That makes one of us," Cate said lightly as she settled into the stunt car for the non-crash passes.
They did run after run: the car accelerating, veering just past frame, Daniel flinching slightly at the rush of wind. The sound team captured the roar, the gravel spit, the sudden cut-off.
Then they switched vehicles.
The stunt driver took over in the rigged car; Daniel was walked off to the side. Cate stepped back with the rest of the cast and watched as the professionals did their work.
The coordinator ran through it again: speed, mark, turn, ditch. The driver nodded, calm.
"Rolling," the DP called.
"Action," Harry said, holding his breath.
The stunt car screamed forward, hit the mark, yanked hard right, and slid off the road into the gully in a controlled crunch. Dust flew up in a cloud.
"Cut!" Harry shouted, adrenaline spiking. "That's the one!"
The driver climbed out, unhurt, gave a thumbs-up.
They reset for the burn.
SFX and pyro took their time, laying fuel, checking lines, rehearsing the trigger. The fire crew waited with hoses and extinguishers. The fire marshal watched with a clipboard.
Harry stood at the monitor, heart hammering, even before the flames.
"You only get this a couple of times," Greg said quietly. "You sure you don't want to do coverage later and not blow the whole car today?"
"We've got enough coverage," Harry said. "We need the image."
The AD called for quiet. The DP confirmed the frame, the VFX supervisor noted tracking marks for future rabbit insertion.
"Rolling," the camera operator said.
"Light it," the pyro lead called.
A flick, a spark, then a rush. Fire crawled along the underside of the car, then burst outward, catching, thick black smoke twisting up into the pale sky.
On the monitor, the wrecked vehicle burned like a fallen animal.
They held on it.
Finally, Harry whispered, "Cut."
The fire crew moved in, dousing the car. The smoke thinned, drifted.
Harry took off his headset and rubbed his eyes.
"That's it," he said. "We have the end."
Greg exhaled slowly. "Six days for a climax."
Harry nodded. "Worth it."
He looked at the monitor one more time — at the last frozen frame of Aaron standing by the road, blindfold still on, fire in the distance.
------
The apartment they were filming in wasn't really an apartment at all. It was Stage Four at the Sun Valley lot, decked out with thrift-store furniture, crooked picture frames, a dimly lit kitchen, and a narrow living room designed to resemble a young artist's messy rental.
Harry stood behind the monitor, headset on, coffee in hand, as he watched the set decorators fiddle with the blinds to capture the perfect afternoon light.
"Shade it a bit more," he instructed. "Aaron's place should feel like a cave, not a sunroom."
The gaffer placed another silk, and the shadows grew deeper.
Cate Blanchett was already in wardrobe, sporting a simple blouse and a soft blue cardigan, her hair tied back casually. She embodied the perfect image of a grieving widow—the kind of woman who bakes muffins for her neighbors but could also take a life without a second thought.
In stark contrast, Daniel wore baggy jeans and a faded T-shirt, dark glasses resting on his nose. He lingered near the kitchenette, practicing blind movements with a cane, but Harry noticed his fingers twitching. He was on edge. This scene was a pivotal moment in the film: the confrontation between Simi and Aaron where everything spirals out of control.
"Ready?" Harry asked as he approached him.
Daniel let out a breath. "Ready as I'll ever be."
"And Cate?"
She shot him a quick, playful salute. "I've been ready since the rope sequences. Compared to that warehouse, this feels like a vacation."
Harry brushed off the teasing, though a few crew members chuckled.
"Quiet on set!" the AD yelled. "Picture up!"
Cameras rolled. Boom lowered. Slate clapped.
"Scene 44A, Take One!"
"Action," Harry said.
The apartment door swung open suddenly-Cate stepped in as if she owned the place.
Aaron, who was at the small dining table polishing his cane, flinched just a bit. Just enough to notice.
"Sorry for dropping by without a heads-up," Simi said, flashing a warm smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "I brought some sweets."
She extended a small box toward him. Aaron raised his hands, fingers fumbling in the air until she gently placed it into his palms.
Harry was glued to the monitor—perfect. Daniel was nailing the blind fumbling act.
Simi stepped further inside, her eyes scanning the apartment.
The camera followed closely behind her, capturing her assessment of everything.
The slightly askew chair.
The coffee mug arranged a bit too perfectly.
The space between Aaron and the door.
This wasn't just a friendly visit.
Aaron stood up with exaggerated caution, feeling along the counter, reaching for the coffee grounds as if it were a routine he'd followed since he was a kid.
"Can I get you some coffee?" he asked.
"Please," Simi replied sweetly.
Harry leaned in closer to the monitor. "Focus on her eyes," he whispered to the director of photography.
The lens zoomed in.
Simi wasn't buying any of this.
Daniel accidentally knocked the filter basket, and a small clang rang out. He froze for a moment—then carried on, looking a bit sheepish.
Good. It felt natural.
Cate moved silently to his side—too close for comfort. She watched him pour water—no spills. Too precise.
She slipped her fingers into her handbag.
Harry signaled to the assistant director: "Cue the mask scare."
As Aaron turned, Simi quickly pulled a cheap Scream mask over her face.
The camera repositioned.
She stepped into his line of sight—looming silently.
In theaters, audiences would jump. Here, Aaron remained entirely unfazed.
He poured the coffee.
Simi blinked behind the mask. For a split second even Cate seemed amused.
She removed it and sat down.
Aaron set his coffee down—then his own—and took a seat across from her.
Simi dug into her handbag again, pulling out a tiny vial filled with a clear liquid. Poison, but oh-so-elegant.
She rested her elbow on the table, swirling her coffee lazily before quietly uncorking the vial and pouring its contents into Aaron's cup-right in front of everyone.
Not Aaron.
He stared straight ahead, his glasses reflecting nothing at all.
"Oh, this is lovely," she said, taking a sip of her own drink. "You really make a great brew."
Aaron lifted his cup, casually sniffing it.
"I forgot the biscuits," he suddenly exclaimed.
Before Simi could respond, he pretended to stand and "accidentally" tipped his cup, spilling coffee all over the table.
Cate jerked back, her chair scraping loudly as she jumped up.
"Cut!" Harry called out abruptly. "Cate, that was a perfect reaction. Daniel, the spill needs to be a tad slower—give her a split-second more of 'is he blind or just faking it.' Reset!"
Take Two
"Action!"
Coffee spilled.
Simi recoiled—and immediately reached for her purse.
She pulled out a gun.
Daniel froze, his hands instinctively rising.
The tension in the air was electric.
"Take off your glasses," she commanded.
A shiver ran through the crew. Cate's voice was too calm, too neutral.
Daniel's trembling fingers slipped off the glasses.
His eyes were perfectly normal.
Simi stared.
Then-
She pulled the trigger.
A spray of water shot out.
She grinned.
Aaron flinched back so hard he nearly toppled his chair.
The crew behind Harry struggled to hold back their laughter.
Cate collapsed onto the couch, laughing freely.
"Well, well," she said between breaths. "Mister fake blind!"
Harry observed Daniel's mortified expression. Spot on.
Aaron swallowed hard. "I should've never come back to your apartment the second time."
Simi's demeanor shifted instantly. Her eyes sharpened.
"I didn't know you weren't blind," she said. "You saw me kill Mrs. Dalton."
Her tone changed—accusation mixed with annoyance, not guilt.Like Aaron witnessing her crime was his mistake.
"What's your game?" she asked.
Aaron stepped carefully closer. "I'm… I'm an artist. It was an experiment. I wanted to see if my piano playing improved if I couldn't see. I didn't think I'd hurt anyone."
Harry nodded at the monitor. Daniel's delivery carried desperation but still had dignity.
Cate sat forward now, elbows on knees.
"How many people know?"
"No one," Aaron said quickly. "I swear. I won't tell anyone. I'm going to London. Tomorrow. I'll disappear."
"Sit," she commanded, voice cutting the air.
He sat.
For the next minute, Cate improvised. Harry had let her. The script allowed leeway.
"My husband… was a good man," she said softly. "But Mano—Mano was excitement. Then the fool walked in on us. And boom, dead man. All because he wanted to surprise me."
Daniel swallowed. Hard.
"Simi… please. I didn't see anything."
"That's the problem," she murmured.
He stood shakily to pick up the fallen mug—then froze.
"What… what was in the sweets?" he whispered.
Cate's expression was a masterpiece of feigned innocence.
"Oh. Those? Just… offerings"
Aaron stumbled toward the sink, panic rising.
He collapsed.
His body twitched once and went still.
Simi walked calmly to the window, locked it, then shut the blinds. The room dimmed, oppressive.
She stood over him with scarily steady breath and took out her phone.
"Hello? It's me. I need help."
Harry held the moment.
"Cut!" he called at last. "Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. Let's go again from the poison line."
Daniel groaned from the floor.