Chapter Text
“So let me get this straight. You’re rejecting this movie too?”
This is Yoko Tanaka’s seventh meeting with esteemed actor Wednesday Addams where all of her meticulously curated film offers have been rejected by the star. Any suggested venture is met with a classic Addams glare, not unlike the one she is receiving right now, dark eyes boring directly into hers.
“Yes, Tanaka. You’re smart. You should know better now than to suggest I partake in a sickeningly banal romance such as this.”
Yoko can barely suppress an eye roll at this, but she is a Professional and will not act improperly in front of a client. Even if that client is as insufferable as Wednesday. Instead, she sighs and slides a folder across the desk.
“This was the only thing I managed to find that suited your slightly-macabre-yet-interesting-and-also-really-old taste in film. It’s a remake of a 1940s film called-”
“Hotel Reverie. Yes, I’m aware, my parents would often put this on for punishment when I set loose one too many spiders in the house as a child. I have such traumatising memories of it.”
Yoko felt herself sink further into her chair in defeat. “So, I guess I’ll see you here at the same time next week for you to reject all of my well throughout offers again?”
Wednesday’s usually stoic frown momentarily morphed into a smirk. “No, sign me up. When does filming start?”
Yoko jumps out of her chair in delight.
“So, you’ll be playing the part of Clara, a rich heiress-”
Wednesday stands up out of her chair, leaning ominously over the desk towards her agent.
“The love interest? I don’t play love interests, I play the lead. I look forward to hearing from you, Tanaka.”
The door slams behind her before Yoko can even form a response.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Wednesday bursts through the doors to Nevermore Studios at 11.00 on the dot. She is never early - god forbid she gets dragged into dreadful small talk - and she is never late.
She’s greeted by an older woman, who happens to be nearly twice her height. “You must be Wednesday Addams, it’s simply delightful to meet you! I’m Larissa Weems, head of Nevermore Studios. Let me show you around.”
Wednesday nods her head sharply and lets herself be led into the main sound stage. But instead of sets and actors there is instead one large screen and a very complex computer set-up in the centre of the room, where several people sit, glued to their screens.
“Is this where we are filming? I had hoped this remake would not be shot purely in front of a green screen, I thought better of this studio.”
Larissa looks almost offended but before she can speak a young man eagerly runs up to the two of them.
“Oh, Larissa, have you told Ms Addams about our new technology?”
Wednesday guesses this man is in his early twenties and judging by his all-black outfit and bookish vibe he is a member of the tech team.
“I have not yet had the chance, why don’t you explain while I go make us some tea! Wednesday, this is Eugene Ottinger, head of Technical Operations here today.”
He sticks his hand out for a handshake but only receives a curt nod in return. “Okay.. Well, this will not be your typical film set. Instead we’re using this,” he reveals a small circular device in his hand. “This is called a Nubbin. It allows us to put your consciousness inside of the film and you act out the scenes like a play. This way we should only need one take.”
“So I’m the only real actor in this, then?”
Larissa hmphs from beside Eugene. “I guess you could say that. I was hoping for a Ryan Gosling type to play Dr Palmer, but I’ll take what I can get.”
The scathing glare she receives from Wednesday almost stops her mid-speech but she soldiers on. “Anyway.. I assume you know all your lines. I’d rather we get this done sooner rather than later.”
“On what I assume will be a rare occasion, I agree with you. Shall we begin?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When Wednesday opens her eyes, suddenly the world is monochrome, no bright colours, only black and white painting the grand hotel lobby she stands in. She finds she quite likes this new colour palette.
“Can you hear us?” Wednesday rolls her eyes at Larissa’s hurried speech, calling out to her like mission control to a stranded astronaut.
She really doesn’t want to reply, finding the distressed calls rather entertaining, but eventually, for their sakes, she replies with a firm “Yes”.
Eugene lets out a small woop, but quickly clears his throat before continuing. “Okay, Wednesday, as you know the film begins with you in the parlor, so if you go into the room on your right you’ll find the empty table next to the microphone and that’s your position.”
She follows the directions to her starter position, but is slightly distracted by the rest of the “cast”, who are frozen in place, as if someone has hit pause.
Almost as if he is reading her thoughts, Eugene chimes in. “Don’t be alarmed by the people around you. They’re AI models, so do exactly what we tell them to - right now their commands are to be still, which is why there’s no movement yet.”
After a few moments, the scene begins and although she has seen this film countless times, has read the script inside out, nothing could have prepared her for seeing Clara Ryce-Lechere walk into the room.
Even in this monochrome world, it’s like she’s seeing colour for the first time, time slowing as the blonde walks into the room. She’s tall, a smirk on her lips as if she knows the whole room is looking at her.
Faintly, Wednesday can hear Eugene feeding her lines but she’s simply not listening, focus concentrated elsewhere.
She is totally screwed.