Curry Barker was in his apartment. He had gotten up at nine thirty in the morning, a surprisingly early hour for him on a Sunday.
However, this was not just any Sunday.
That day would mark, at least officially, the beginning of active preproduction on Curve. In a few hours, he would have to head to Owen's house for their first serious work meeting about the short film.
Ever since he had opened his eyes, Curry had felt a strange pressure in his chest. It was not paralyzing nerves or fear that everything might go wrong, but a difficult-to-separate mixture of excitement, responsibility, and the feeling that he was about to enter a much more serious stage of his career.
Sitting at the small dining table, he went over a notebook filled with notes for what felt like the hundredth time. He had spent much of the past few days working on them since signing the contract: visual ideas, questions about certain scenes, proposals for the shooting script, a provisional filming schedule, and an increasingly long list of things he needed to discuss with Owen.
He was so focused that he barely looked up when Cooper, his best friend and partner on the YouTube channel, placed a plate and a glass in front of him.
"Breakfast of champions," Cooper announced with completely undeserved solemnity.
Curry barely raised his eyes above the notebook, "Thanks…" he murmured before returning to his notes.
Cooper watched him for a couple of seconds.
Then he reached out and snatched the notebook away from him, "Give me that."
"Hey! I was reading!" Curry protested.
This time, he lifted his head completely. He frowned at his friend and tried to take the notebook back, but Cooper kept it out of his reach.
"Dude, you've been working on this every day since you signed," Cooper said, "Relax a little. The contract is already finalized. It's not like he can fire you over one meeting."
He paused and added, "I think."
Curry did not seem particularly reassured by that final clarification.
It had all begun with that exploratory video call with Owen.
Owen had ended the conversation by promising that he would get in touch again, and he had kept his word.
The next call had no longer been an informal conversation. Owen had returned with a concrete proposal: he wanted Curry to direct Second Take Films' next short film.
Curry had suspected from their first contact that it might be something like that. Obviously, he had never expected Owen to offer him the chance to direct a multimillion-dollar feature film. It would have been strange for a production company to place that kind of responsibility on someone with so few professional credits.
His résumé was still far too short for that.
Even so, directing Curve represented a huge leap in his career.
The contract established a payment of seven thousand dollars for his work throughout preproduction, filming, and postproduction. He would receive the first half once the preparation stage was complete and the rest after delivering the finished short film.
For Curry, that amount was enormous.
The Chair, the short film that had gone viral on his channel and earned him his first serious recognition as a director after winning an award at LA Shorts, had cost less than a thousand dollars in total.
This time, he alone would be paid seven thousand dollars. That did not include the crew's salaries, the construction or adaptation of the sets, the cast, transportation, food, or any of the other production expenses.
The difference made one thing perfectly clear: Owen was not shooting some improvised project with friends. He was financing this short film as a professional production.
That was precisely why Curry had worked so hard over the past few days. Although he still needed to speak with Owen before making any final decisions, he had prepared everything within his reach.
He had done his homework.
And, as Cooper had said, after signing the contract, it would be rather strange for everything to go wrong during the first meeting.
"Do you really want your stomach to start growling in the middle of his office while the damn Owen Ashford reads your little notebook in complete silence?" Cooper asked when he saw that his friend was still staring at the notebook.
Curry went still, "That's a valid argument…" he admitted.
He finally turned his attention to the plate.
There were two slightly burned pieces of toast, some questionable-looking scrambled eggs, and several strips of bacon piled together without the slightest attempt at presentation.
Curry pursed his lips, tilted his head to one side, and then looked at Cooper, "This is the breakfast of a champion?" he asked mockingly, "It looks like the breakfast of someone who lost the final and had to cook while depressed."
"Shut up and be grateful I made anything," Cooper huffed as he sat across from him and set the notebook aside, "If you want a better breakfast, get yourself a girlfriend."
Curry picked up one of the pieces of toast and took a bite, "That's sexist."
"You're not exactly the right person to lecture anyone about that, man."
Curry let out a laugh through his nose, "I have no idea what you're talking about."
From that point on, they began talking as they always did.
The conversation was completely unimportant, but it served its purpose.
Little by little, Curry let his anxiety drift to the side. Eventually, the conversation faded naturally.
Cooper leaned back in his chair and lifted his gaze toward the ceiling. He remained silent for a few seconds, "I can't believe you're going to shoot a short film for Second Take Films," he finally said.
Curry, who was taking a sip of coffee with far too much sugar at that moment, slowly lowered the cup, "Neither can I," he admitted.
For them, and for many other creators who had started out filming short films for YouTube in the hope of one day breaking into the industry, Second Take Films had become the benchmark channel.
It had been active for less than three years, had fewer than twenty videos published, and had still surpassed twelve million subscribers. Practically all of its videos had accumulated more than ten million views, while several had easily passed fifty million.
However, the numbers were not what truly mattered.
The internet was full of channels capable of getting millions of views. What set Second Take Films apart was that its success did not stop at YouTube.
Its short films went viral, received excellent reviews, and ended up competing at festivals that seemed beyond the reach of any independent creator. Sundance, major award ceremonies, and finally the Academy Awards themselves.
Second Take Films had proven that a short film published online could be much more than content for a platform. It could become a work respected by the industry.
For Curry, that had completely changed the way he viewed his own work.
When he had started filming shorts with Cooper, the idea of going from YouTube to Hollywood had seemed like a distant, almost theoretical possibility. Something that might happen after many years, an enormous amount of luck, and meeting the right people.
Owen had made that path visible.
On top of that, the channel had gone several months without publishing a new short film. That meant Curve would not go unnoticed among a long list of releases. When it appeared on the channel, millions of people would be waiting to watch it.
And when the credits rolled, Curry's name would appear as director.
That would increase his following, more people would look up his previous work, and agents, producers, or studios that would never have paid attention to his channel would have a reason to remember his name. Even if Curve failed to match the success of the previous projects, directing a Second Take Films production would be a credit he could carry with him for years.
But perhaps the most valuable thing was not the short film.
It was the connection with Owen.
Owen was not merely the founder of the channel. He was also its main screenwriter, producer, and, on several occasions, actor. He had built Second Take Films practically from the ground up and turned it into a prestigious brand both on and off the internet.
On top of having successful feature films, not just shorts, international recognition, and a reputation that combined critical and commercial success.
Owen was no longer simply a YouTube creator who had managed to break into Hollywood.
He was someone with real influence within the industry.
"Even more incredible is that I'm going to his house on a Sunday," Curry commented after a few seconds.
It was not another video call, nor a meeting at the Second Take Films offices.
He was going directly to Owen's house.
That made everything feel much more personal, almost informal, but also considerably more intimidating. One thing was speaking to him through a screen, with time to check his notes without it being noticeable. It was another thing entirely to sit face-to-face in his own home and explain how he intended to direct the short film Owen had written.
"The guy is obsessed with work," Cooper said, "He finished a shoot yesterday and, less than twenty-four hours later, he already wants to start on the next project."
Curry nodded.
He had seen the post Owen had uploaded to Instagram the day before. Several photos from what appeared to be the filming of his first television series.
The post had accumulated millions of likes in just a few hours.
Now, less than a day later, Owen already wanted to meet to discuss Curve.
It was not as though Curry had pressured him to move things along. When he signed the contract, Owen had given him the complete script for the short film. It was not a half-finished draft or an idea that still needed to be developed. The script was polished, structured, and ready to be approached from a directing standpoint.
He had also explained that he was in the middle of a shoot and would not be able to get too involved in preproduction during those days.
Even so, they had remained in contact.
They exchanged a few messages, Curry asked him a couple of specific questions, and while he waited, he moved forward on his own with everything within his reach.
When Owen finally told him that he would have some time available, he was the one who suggested meeting on Sunday.
That made it fairly clear that he was eager to get started as soon as possible and, of course, Curry agreed without giving it much thought.
"Maybe you'll run into Jenna Ortega," Cooper said, "Ask her for an autograph and tell her to do the Wednesday dance."
Curry rolled his eyes.
Over the past few weeks, several headlines had appeared claiming that Owen and Jenna had left the apartment building in Studio City where they both lived and moved into a house together in the nearby hills.
Outlets such as People, TMZ, and other sites had discussed the subject quite a bit, although none of them had revealed an exact location.
As for Owen and Jenna, they had not publicly confirmed the move. Even so, it seemed fairly likely.
If it was true, Curry was about to find out for himself.
"Yeah, I'm sure I'd make an excellent impression if I asked her to do the dance," Curry replied with obvious sarcasm.
He stood up from the chair, carried the plate to the sink, and left it there.
Cooper looked at the unwashed plate, "Very professional."
"I have an important meeting," Curry justified himself, "I'll wash it when I get back."
The next few minutes passed quickly.
Curry checked one last time that he had everything he needed. He placed the printed script, several pages filled with notes, the notebook he had been working in over the past few days, and a few additional documents he wanted to show Owen into a backpack.
When he was finally ready, he slung the backpack over one shoulder and walked toward the door.
"Good luck, man," Cooper said outside the building, since they did not live together and he was now heading back to his own apartment.
This time, there was no mockery in his voice. He stepped closer and gave him a firm pat on the shoulder.
Curry nodded as he opened the door of his car, and before getting in, he looked at him, "If everything goes well, you should start getting ready too."
Cooper raised an eyebrow, "Getting ready for what?"
"I'm going to recommend you to Owen so he hires you," Curry replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, "I'm going to need you on set."
Cooper froze.
For a few seconds, he simply stared at him, clearly surprised. Then he blinked, stepped closer, and placed a hand on his friend's shoulder with an expression filled with emotion.
"You're a good friend," he said solemnly, "After so many years of friendship and all the times I saved you from your own decisions..."
Curry narrowed his eyes, "I'm only saying I'm going to recommend you."
"Let me finish. This is an important moment."
Cooper coughed into his fist, regained his composure, and placed a hand on his friend's shoulder once again, "I always knew that one day you would remember who stood by your side before the fame."
"I'm still not famous. See you later," Curry said as he got into the car.
"Don't forget to mention that I'm cheap!"
Curry closed the door without answering. He had already heard enough nonsense for one morning.
Even so, as he started the engine, he could not help smiling slightly. Beneath all that exaggeration, he knew Cooper was excited. He had noticed it in his initial surprise, in those few seconds when he had been left speechless before he started joking.
Cooper had been by his side long before The Chair. If Curve could truly open a door for him, Curry had no intention of walking through it alone.
He entered the address Owen had sent him into the navigation system and began driving.
Sure enough, the house was located in the hills of Studio City.
The drive did not take too long, although the streets became narrower and more winding as he climbed. The houses also began to spread farther apart, hidden behind low walls, trees, and large gates.
Curry slowed down as he approached the location marked by the navigation system.
"You've got to be kidding me…" he murmured.
The property in front of him was not an extravagant mansion, but it was a large, modern house built on a sizable lot.
A wall surrounded the property, and a dark metal sliding gate blocked the driveway. To one side was a smaller pedestrian gate beside a column containing a camera and an intercom.
Curry parked by the curb and remained inside the car for a few seconds.
He did not need to be a Los Angeles real estate expert to understand that living there was not cheap. Based on the location and size alone, the rent had to be easily around ten thousand dollars a month.
More than he earned in a month.
In fact, more than the full payment he would receive for directing Curve. That comparison did not do much to calm him down.
He grabbed the backpack from the seat, stepped out of the car, and closed the door.
He walked to the pedestrian gate and stopped. Before reaching out, he adjusted his shirt and took a deep breath.
Then he pressed the button.
Curry waited.
A few seconds passed before the intercom gave a faint click.
"Yes?" a male voice asked.
Curry recognized Owen immediately, "Hi, it's Curry."
There was a brief pause.
"Hey," Owen replied, "One second."
Before he could think too much about it, he heard the metallic sound of the lock releasing.
He pushed the gate open and began walking along a stone path that crossed the front garden toward the house.
When he reached the main entrance, he barely had time to wonder whether he should ring the bell again.
The door opened, and Owen appeared on the other side.
He was wearing a classic white shirt and black pants. His hair was slightly messy, and his expression was calm as he looked at him.
Curry froze as he stared at him.
When Owen noticed that Curry was not reacting, he raised one eyebrow slightly and decided to take the initiative himself.
"It's nice to finally meet you in person, Curry," he said as he extended his hand.
Up until that moment, they had only spoken through messages and video calls. It felt a little strange for their first face-to-face meeting to take place in a house rather than in a more formal setting, but Owen wanted to get the short film moving as soon as possible.
Curry blinked, finally reacted, and extended his hand, "N-nice to meet you."
The handshake was brief and firm.
Fortunately for him, Owen did not comment on the slight stutter.
He simply stepped aside from the entrance and gave him room to pass.
Curry crossed the threshold.
Once inside, he cast a quick, discreet glance around while waiting for Owen to lead the way.
Owen closed the door behind him and nodded toward the interior.
Curry began to follow him.
As they crossed the living room, he noticed movement near the kitchen entrance. A figure appeared for a few seconds, dressed in comfortable clothes with her hair tied back.
Curry needed only an instant to recognize her, 'The rumors were true…' he thought.
Owen and Jenna were already living together.
Jenna stopped when she saw them. She was holding a mug in one hand and looked at Curry with a certain curiosity, wanting to see the director Owen had hired from YouTube.
Owen stopped, "Jenna, this is Curry, the one who's going to direct Curve," he said before looking at him, "Curry, this is Jenna."
Jenna gave him a faint, friendly smile, "Nice to meet you," she greeted, lifting her free hand slightly.
"Nice to meet you," Curry replied, mirroring the gesture.
For a second, he did not know whether he should add anything else.
Fortunately, Owen spoke, "Follow me," he said, resuming his path before the silence could become awkward.
Curry followed him down a hallway until they reached a room located at one end of the house.
It was an office.
Not especially large compared to the rest of the property, but spacious enough to work comfortably. A wooden desk stood near a window that let in natural light. The walls were lined with fairly full bookshelves.
Curry looked around the room with curiosity.
He had expected to see some award on display. The Cannes prize, perhaps, or even the Oscar Owen had won, but he saw none.
'Maybe they're at the offices…' he thought.
Owen walked around the desk and took a seat. With a nod, he invited Curry to sit in the chair on the other side.
Curry took the backpack off his back, placed it beside his legs, and settled into the chair.
"I remember that the last time we spoke, you were working on the shooting script, right?" Owen asked.
He got straight to the point.
He did not seem interested in starting a superficial conversation with someone he barely knew just to fill the silence. No comments about the weather, the traffic, or any other irrelevant topic before getting to the real reason for the meeting.
Curry appreciated that.
He had never been particularly good at making conversation out of politeness. If Owen had commented that the weather was nice, he probably would have responded with a simple "yeah" and then fallen silent, trying to think of something else to add.
Talking about the short film was different. He had spent days working on it with an intensity that bordered on obsession.
Curry stopped thinking about the fact that he was sitting across from a famous actor and began thinking like a director.
"Yes, I already finished it," he replied, "Wait a second…"
He leaned toward the backpack, opened the zipper, and began taking out his things.
First, he pulled out the printed script, covered in marks and annotations. Then he took out his notebook, several loose pages with scene diagrams, and a folder where he had organized the shooting script.
While holding everything in his arms, he looked up.
Owen gestured toward the desk with one hand, indicating that he could leave it there.
Curry carefully placed the documents in front of him.
"Here's the shooting script," he said as he slid the folder to the other side of the desk.
Owen took it and opened the first page.
The shooting script was the document that translated the written story into concrete instructions for filming.
While the literary script focused on the characters, their actions, and the dialogue, the shooting script defined how all of that would be shown on screen: shot sizes, camera movements, angles, sound, transitions, and the way each scene would be divided visually.
Generally, it was the director's responsibility.
Owen wrote the literary scripts for his projects, but he did not usually develop the shooting script as well.
The office fell silent.
The only sounds were the birds beyond the window and the dry rustle of the pages every time Owen moved forward.
Curry remained seated across from him, watching him read.
At first, he tried to stay calm.
Then he began paying attention to every small movement in Owen's face.
Owen lingered on some pages longer than others. On others, he moved quickly. At one point, he frowned slightly, although Curry could not tell whether he had found a problem or was simply concentrating.
That uncertainty began to make him nervous.
How good was his shooting script, really?
Curry was satisfied with what he had prepared, but he could not forget that Owen had already worked with experienced directors. Derek Cianfrance, Kogonada, among others.
Besides, Owen was not merely a famous actor or the person financing the projects.
He had written the scripts, taken an active role as a producer, and been present throughout practically every stage of his films. Even if he did not direct, he must have developed a fairly precise eye for visual planning and filmmaking.
Thinking about that made Curry swallow.
He only hoped Owen would not see those pages as the enthusiastic work of a beginner.
Finally, Owen reached the last page. He spent a few seconds looking at it before closing the folder.
Then Owen looked up. His expression had changed, "Good work," he said.
There was a hint of surprise in his voice.
Curry took a moment to react. It did not sound like a compliment given out of politeness. Owen genuinely had not expected to find such an advanced document.
"Thank you," Curry replied with a faint smile.
"No, seriously, great work. It's very advanced," Owen said, and now he smiled as well. This would move things forward much faster.
A shooting script was not an extremely complicated document to create, but it required visual judgment and an understanding of cinematic language.
It was the point where the director began writing the film in images.
For a short film of that length, developing a complete first version could require several days of focused work.
Owen knew that more than ten days had passed since he sent him the script. However, during that time he had not imposed a deadline or given him overly precise instructions.
Quite the opposite.
He had explained that he was still busy filming his series and that serious preproduction would begin once he finished. In the meantime, Curry could read the material, think of a few ideas, and calmly move forward with anything he considered useful.
Owen had expected to find something less advanced. Not an almost perfect shooting script. There were still a few small details to adjust, but the entire structure was there.
Over the next few minutes, they began reviewing the document scene by scene.
It was no longer Curry trying to impress Owen Ashford. They were a writer-producer and a director working on the same story.
They spent a considerable amount of time refining the shooting script.
Curry believed the best option was to divide the work across two days. In theory, they could try to film everything in a single day, but that would mean an extremely long shoot with very little room to repeat takes.
The problem was that Curry did not know how much Owen was willing to spend.
Every additional day meant paying the cast, the crew, and the rented set for another full day.
Owen studied the schedule Curry had prepared, "We'll shoot it over two days," he decided.
Curry nodded.
That was a good sign.
Not only because his proposal had been accepted, but because Owen did not seem willing to sacrifice the quality of the short film simply to cut costs.
Then they reached one of the most important aspects of the entire production.
The set.
It was not simply the filming studio they would rent for the shoot, but the structure that would give meaning to the entire story: the curved surface where the protagonist would wake up trapped.
There was no real location they could use as it was. They would have to build it specifically for the short film and transport it to the filming space.
Curry had thought about it quite a bit.
He opened the notebook to one of the middle pages and showed Owen several hand-drawn sketches. They were not professional blueprints, but the design was clear enough to explain the dimensions he believed were necessary.
The structure had to be wide enough to allow for different framings without revealing its limits too soon. It also needed an incline of approximately thirty-five to forty degrees, enough to convey the feeling that the protagonist could slide into the void at any moment.
Owen examined the drawings carefully.
He appreciated that Curry had thought about that as well.
'He really did come prepared,' Owen thought.
Ever since he had written the script, he had known that finding a location that met their needs would be practically impossible. The only realistic option was to hire professionals to build the set.
It would not be cheap, but he had already accounted for that expense.
He would handle finding the right company, requesting quotes, and coordinating the construction with whichever studio they ultimately rented. Curry would need to collaborate on the visual details and confirm that the dimensions allowed them to film the planned shots.
With that settled, they moved on to casting.
"I was planning to put out a casting call on Backstage tomorrow," Owen said.
Curry remained silent for a few seconds. He was sure that would result in hundreds or even thousands of actresses sending in self-tapes.
Not to mention actresses represented by agencies who would surely want the role as well.
"Sounds good to me," Curry finally said.
He opened the notebook again and searched for another page.
There, he had written down the qualities he considered important for the protagonist. The actress had to be young, but not fragile, nor a model or Barbie-type girl.
Above all, she needed to be capable of carrying an entire short film on her own without a single line of dialogue.
Owen read the notes and nodded.
He opened his laptop and began preparing the Backstage listing with Curry's help.
Together, they defined the approximate age range, a brief physical description, the tentative filming dates, and the character's main traits.
When they finished, he saved the listing as a draft, ready to be published the following morning.
The project was beginning to take shape quickly.
They already had a completed screenplay, an almost finalized shooting script, and a two-day filming plan. While Owen coordinated the construction of the structure, they could begin reviewing submissions from interested actresses.
As the director, Curry would play an important role in that process.
He would not only watch the auditions. He would also have to decide who was capable of carrying the film and who he believed he could work with best during the shoot.
After that, they began discussing the crew.
Owen already had two trusted people available. Tyler would handle sound, while Eric would be in charge of lighting.
They would still need a makeup artist, several assistants, a few additional technicians, and, above all, a director of photography.
It would not be an especially large crew.
There would probably be no more than ten to fifteen people in total.
When Curry mentioned the director of photography and the camera operators, he felt that the moment had arrived. He discovered that bringing it up was not as easy as he had expected.
He did not want to seem like someone who had just landed his first important job and was already trying to bring all his friends along.
"There's someone I could recommend," he said.
Owen looked up.
Curry shifted slightly in his chair and continued, "His name is Cooper. He's my partner on the channel, and he worked with me on The Chair."
Owen did not respond immediately, but he did not show any rejection either.
That allowed Curry to continue explaining why hiring Cooper could be a good idea.
Curry chose his words carefully.
He did not try to sell him as an experienced director of photography or exaggerate his knowledge. Cooper still had a great deal to learn and was probably not ready to take full control of the camera department on a professional production.
But he could still be useful as an operator or assistant.
"I'll look into him and let you know soon," Owen said.
It was not an acceptance. But he had not rejected the idea immediately either.
For Curry, that was already a good sign, "Great..."
They continued talking. The tension Curry had carried into the house had disappeared. He was no longer weighing every word or constantly wondering whether he was making a bad impression.
Owen and he were close in age, and once they began talking about filmmaking, the conversation became much easier than Curry had imagined.
They had not become friends over the course of a single morning, but a certain ease had developed between them, a kind of creative chemistry.
Eventually, Curry checked the time on his phone and seemed surprised.
He began gathering the documents spread across the desk. He placed the script, the notebook, and the loose pages back inside the backpack, although he left Owen a copy of the updated shooting script and the filming plan.
They left the office and walked back down the hallway.
"We'll talk tomorrow," Owen said as he extended his hand.
"Of course. Thanks for having me," Curry said as he shook it.
A few minutes later, he was already inside his car. He placed the backpack on the passenger seat, closed the door, and remained still for several seconds.
The meeting had gone well. Much better than he had expected.
Owen had surprised him. A young and famous actor, a millionaire, the winner of major awards, and the owner of his own production company. Someone who, from the outside, seemed to live on a completely different level from him.
And yet, on a Sunday morning, he had been sitting behind a desk, reviewing a shooting script page by page.
He had accepted the ideas that worked and clearly pointed out the ones that could be improved. Nor had he treated Curry like an amateur or tried to impose every decision simply because the money and the script were his.
He had been polite, direct, and surprisingly easy to work with.
Curry placed both hands on the steering wheel. Now he understood a little better why Owen had come so far at such a young age.
Talent explained part of it. Money and opportunities explained another. But working that way explained much more.
'Talent plus hard work... always beats talent alone,' Curry thought as he started the car.
As the engine came to life, another thought began to take shape.
Obsession.
His first feature-length screenplay.
He had already decided that Owen was the best option. But this meeting had made that decision feel even more right.
Owen had to be the first person to read it.
He had the money to produce it, and he loved cinema. He did not view projects solely as products, nor did he seem interested in reducing every decision to a number.
With someone like that, Obsession would have a much better chance than in the hands of a traditional studio.
Curry pulled away from the curb and began driving down the hill.
Meanwhile, inside the house, Owen closed the door. He remained there for a few seconds before heading back toward the office.
The meeting had left a good impression on him as well.
When he contacted Curry after watching The Chair, he knew there was a certain risk involved. One award-winning viral short film did not guarantee that someone could work within a more organized production.
It could have been luck. However, after reviewing everything Curry had prepared, Owen no longer believed that.
And best of all, Curry had not waited to be given instructions before starting. He had moved forward on his own initiative.
The Chair had not been an accident.
Curry had talent.
'I was right to listen to Matt...' Owen thought with a faint smile. He had found a director with a great deal of potential.
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