A controlling stage mother and her reluctant 18-year-old daughter navigating a sinister film studio audition in grounded, dark drama.
The lobby of Lumen Pictures smells like new leather and disinfectant. Everything is white—white chairs, white walls, white orchids in black vases. A woman at the front desk handed them clipboards with NDAs when they walked in. Jill signed hers without reading it. Alexa is still holding hers, pen hovering.
Jill: "Sign it, Alexa. We didn't drive forty minutes for you to stare at paper."
Alexa: quietly "It says we can't talk about anything that happens in there. To anyone. That's... not normal."
Jill: leans in, voice low and sharp "It's a film studio. They protect their projects. Sign it."
Alexa looks at the door behind the desk—the one with no handle on this side. She signs.
The woman at the desk takes the clipboards and smiles—practised, hollow. She motions toward the door behind her. "You two can go on in for the interview. Mr. Adams is waiting for you."