To be honest, Jenny didn't really know why she'd agreed to take dance lessons. The role of Giddy had no speaking lines in either the original play or the film adaptation. Chicago was a very clear dual-lead musical, with nearly all the singing parts handled by the two female protagonists, Roxie and Velma. The remaining five female inmates, the warden, and the reporter only had scattered opportunities to perform—let alone Giddy, whose sole purpose was to provoke Roxie.
Moreover, she received the script very late—even later than the one mailed for her CSI guest appearance. Jenny was unfamiliar with Hollywood's internal practices and didn't know if this was standard procedure. Of course, it could also be that her role was simply so insignificant that the production company treated it with neglect.
According to the script she received, Giddy shares a duet with Billy, the male lead lawyer played by Richard Gere. Other scenes were also altered—Giddy had lines during the murder sequence and made several showy appearances after incarceration. This differed significantly from the final cut Chen Zhen witnessed in her previous life.
From Jenny's perspective, she naturally wanted as much screen time as possible, even if it meant overshadowing the third female lead. But as an audience member and fan, she felt the final cut from her past life was cleaner and more streamlined. Adding a song-and-dance sequence for Gettie would bloat the film's structure. The disruption to the narrative would outweigh the entertainment value of the number. Moreover, this sequence wasn't in the original musical. Creating new choreography and lyrics specifically for the film would raise concerns about quality control.
But these matters weren't hers to suggest. First, no actor would ever recommend cutting their own scenes. Second, Rob Marshall is notoriously controlling—he didn't seem like the type to humbly accept advice from an unknown.
On her first day on set, Jenny drove to Universal Studios on time, picked up her pass, signed in at Studio 14 in Area A, collected her number from the makeup room, and returned to her cart to wait.
Compared to Chicago, CSI's production scale was indeed much smaller. For one, there were fewer crew members. For another, not many actors required makeup or costume changes. Aside from the leads, most extras with just a line or two arrived in their own clothes—saving them the hassle of wearing the production's questionable, ill-fitting costumes that took forever to launder. Unless they were in close-ups, they barely needed makeup either. But Chicago was a period piece. Everyone had to change costumes and get makeup done. The leads had their own makeup artists, while other actors had to queue up—just like at a hospital. Assistants would go around the lounge calling out numbers.
Jenny, being the third female lead with a few minutes of solo spotlight, actually had her own trailer—though she had to share it with the actress playing the Warden, aka "Mama." Still, that was pretty decent treatment. As for makeup order, she was scheduled after Mama—on set, makeup order runs in reverse. The higher your status, the less time you spend waiting in full makeup. So theoretically, Mama was the last to get ready, and Jenny was second to last.
Jenny had already reviewed the day's shooting schedule. Her first scene was slated for the second shoot in the afternoon: filming her in elegant attire being led off the prison van, pursued by paparazzi all the way into the prison. After that, she'd be done for the day.
Calculating this way, if you subtract the musical scene with her and lawyer Billy, her entire role could be wrapped up in just two or three days. Those thirty thousand dollars would be pretty easy money. Yet Jenny preferred busyness over ease. It was late 2001 now—seven or eight months since her time travel—and she'd only auditioned twice, landing two minor roles. Even though they were good parts, she still felt unsettled, a lingering fear of not knowing where her next meal would come from.
Today was her first day on set, and her makeup was scheduled second. After confirming her look, she headed to the costume room for fittings. Since Jenny had provided her measurements earlier, the costume designer had several elaborate gowns ready for her—including the extravagant fur coats popular in that era. The whole process took just over two hours. The director stopped by briefly, gave his approval, and finalized her makeup and wardrobe.
Everything seemed to be going smoothly. On her way to the fitting, Jenny exchanged a brief greeting with Catherine Zeta-Jones, who was on her way to the set. They only had a fleeting moment together, but Catherine left a deep impression on Jenny. Radiant and captivating, Catherine was also one of Chen Zhen's favorite actresses in her previous life.
The production naturally provided meals, with a large buffet area outside the studio for actors to serve themselves. The food selection was plentiful. As Jenny walked over, she saw a large group of female prisoners and reporters sitting together, laughing and chatting over lunch. Of course, members of the film crew were mixed in with them, creating a rather peculiar visual scene. Jenny also spotted Renée Zellweger, Richard Gere, and Catherine all waiting in line for their meals. Even the biggest stars didn't abuse any special privileges to cut in line during these moments. — If they wanted to play favorites, they'd simply have their assistants fetch the food and eat in their trailers.
Jenny was undoubtedly paying close attention to Renée. If possible, she wanted to avoid any on-set bullying incidents, which would undoubtedly impact her more as a newcomer. The safest approach was to avoid taking any chances. Regardless of whether word had reached Renée about her agent pushing Lucy into the role, the best strategy was complete avoidance.
Fortunately, Renee seemed completely unaware of her presence. She was deep in conversation with director Rob. Judging by their demeanor, any casting friction had clearly faded—they'd likely long since buried the hatchet and rekindled their friendship.
With makeup on, Jenny skipped the salad altogether to avoid trouble. She grabbed two dry slices of bread and stood under the canopy, munching silently.
"Jennifer, right?" It was Renee's manager who approached her instead. "I'm Veronica, Renee's manager."
"Hi, Veronica. Nice to meet you." Jenny nodded at her. Veronica was a woman in her late thirties, appearing rather stern. Perhaps due to Renee's recent stardom, her demeanor carried a hint of haughtiness.
"Pleased to meet you." Veronica shifted her hamburger to her left hand and shook Jenny's. "You're beautiful."
"Thank you," Jenny replied, discreetly wiping her fingers on the napkin beneath the bun—Veronica's hands were smeared with burger sauce.
They paused in silence for a moment before Veronica continued, "Hmm, I saw your makeup test. Your costume is lovely too."
"Thank you." Jenny felt the awkwardness and added, "Renee's costume is quite gorgeous too."
"Those are just cheap knockoffs," Veronica said dismissively. "Loches is a low-class dancer. Her clothes are cheap and flashy, all style and no substance. Yours are genuine high-end pieces. They might not be as eye-catching, but anyone with discerning taste can tell their value."
Okay, was this the first episode of production drama? Jenny almost laughed, but she didn't—Veronica's words carried a clear warning. If she responded with provocation, the conflict would likely escalate. In any case, she'd gotten the role. Letting Veronica vent her temper wasn't such a big deal.
"Yes," she said meekly. "You're right, Veronica."
Pretending ignorance clearly wasn't working. Veronica's irritation grew more palpable. She gave Jenny a fake smile and patted her shoulder. "Have a good afternoon on set, Jenny."
"Have a good day too, Veronica," Jenny replied, watching Veronica walk back to her client. —Renee was still chatting and eating with Rob, seemingly oblivious to the drama unfolding nearby.
Truth be told, Jenny wasn't sure if Renee was aware at all. The dynamics between celebrities and their agents or managers could be incredibly complex, not something an outsider could easily decipher. It was entirely possible Renee remained oblivious to the power struggle surrounding the role of Gitty, let alone Veronica's earlier visit being an act of "revenge." If she was a bit dense, she might genuinely believe Veronica had just dropped by to say hello.
She glanced at her shoulder and casually dabbed at the hamburger sauce stain with a tissue. Sure, it left a mark, but it was just a cheap T-shirt—she could buy another one anytime.
Veronica was just trying to psych her out, but these underhanded tactics wouldn't faze her much. Jenny let go of the whole messy business of whether Renee supported Lucy. She was here to shoot a movie, and her focus was solely on her scenes.
The second afternoon shoot started on time. Since it was a wide shot, they only needed to rehearse the blocking beforehand. Jenny's task was simple: struggle repeatedly before being surrounded and escorted to the police station. Yet this straightforward scene required over twenty takes. —Because the director wasn't satisfied.
It wasn't the performance he disliked, but the visual impact. He changed the camera angle four times and cut several extras. The scene took over two hours to shoot, and Jenny felt she'd already worked off her entire day's exercise quota through all that struggling.
But she didn't protest or show the slightest dissatisfaction. She just repeated the simple shot over and over.
It was Rob Marshall's first time directing a film, so miscalculations and inexperience were inevitable. Add to that his perfectionist temperament, obsessed with every detail (and honestly, after over two hours of shooting, Jenny understood this completely). The person most frustrated by his constant "Cut!" calls was Marshall himself. Though he appeared calm now—even somewhat energized—Jenny was certain that anyone daring to show impatience would face a barrage of criticism from the director.
It had been a month since Chicago began filming. The crew had likely absorbed their fair share of criticism and served as emotional outlets before, so everyone quietly went about their tasks. Half an hour later, the scene was finally wrapped. The set designers began changing the scenery, and a new batch of extras was summoned. They were still at the prison entrance set, now preparing to shoot daytime scenes.
Intermissions were usually downtime for actors and directors. Jenny grabbed some ice from the refreshment bar, wrapping it in a napkin to massage her wrists—after nearly three hours of filming, her hands were swollen from being handcuffed behind her back, especially her wrists, which bore deep purple marks.
"Hey." Director Rob approached with a glass of water, greeting her. He gasped. "Oh, your hands look painful."
"It's actually fine," Jenny smiled at him.
"Um, well..." Rob seemed genuinely concerned. "Sorry, I spent too much time on this shot—"
"No, no," Jenny cut him off. "I heard from Vijay—I mean, Cesare mentioned something, Mr. Marshall. I truly appreciate your dedication."
She met his eyes calmly and sincerely. "I believe this pursuit of perfection will make the film truly great. Three minutes, three hours, three days—it doesn't matter. As long as you're not satisfied, we'll keep shooting."
Rob seemed a bit flustered. He rubbed his nose. "Whoa—call me Rob, girl—Jennifer, right? You're being too polite. In LA, no one calls anyone that except waitstaff. Just call me Rob."
"Okay, Rob." Jenny grabbed another handful of ice and began icing her right hand. "Seriously, you don't need to be so formal with me. I'm completely on your side. I'm your person."
Instead of the expected warmth or admiration, Rob first frowned, studying Jenny intently. After a moment's thought, he broke into a smile, clinking glasses with her. "Thanks for your support—oh, but now you've made what I'm about to say really awkward."
"What do you mean?" Jenny had a pretty good idea.
"You know I originally planned to expand Kitty's role—that's why I chose you over Lucy Liu. Your musical foundation is stronger than hers," Rob explained, his thick brows knitting together. "But once filming started, things turned out more... unpredictable than I anticipated."
He hesitated, then opted for bluntness. "More difficult to manage. Before shooting, I was overly confident, constantly adding elements. Now I have to trim things back to the original script framework. So your musical number will likely have to be cut."
This was a sudden announcement, meaning Jenny's month of dance lessons had been wasted. For most people, it would be hard to accept, but Jenny was mentally prepared. She nodded in agreement. " "No problem, Rob. From the script's perspective, cutting it makes things cleaner and sharper. The audience doesn't need to dwell too much on Gitty. She's a spark, a jolt—just there to energize the crowd. Giving her a song and dance would make the middle section feel bloated."
Rob stared at her in surprise for a moment. Jenny smiled. "What? Can't a blonde have some brains?"
"But I—you're not—" It took Rob a moment to compose himself. "Alright, I've read your resume. Honestly, you're nothing like I imagined."
He studied Jenny with fresh eyes. "I'm starting to see what Cesare's been talking about. You're different from most girls in LA. Maybe... his suggestion makes sense."
"What suggestion?" Jenny asked blankly.
A clapperboard call echoed from the distance. Robert shook his head, not answering her question. "I'll reach out to Cesare, Jenny. Thank you. You're professional, and it's been a pleasure working with you. I should go. See you tomorrow."
He gave Jenny a hurried nod and turned to leave. Jenny watched him disappear before heading downstairs to remove her makeup and change clothes.
So what was Cesare pitching to Rob Marshall behind her back?
No, actually, there was nothing to hide from her. He was just too lazy to tell her—Cesare was the kind of agent who was truly overbearing. Jenny suspected he had a plan for her, but so far, as the person involved, she knew absolutely nothing about it.
For some reason, she was determined not to call Cesare until he reached out to her first. —Life was like a forced encounter, both subject to domineering control. At least she could choose the dignified cold shoulder over uselessly calling to pester him with questions.
But this time, Cesare didn't keep her waiting long. Just as Jenny slipped past Washington on her way home that evening, his call came through.
"What did you do on set?" Cesare demanded bluntly. Jenny uttered a puzzled "Huh?" as she climbed the stairs.
"You know I told you to make a good impression on set," Cesare said.
Jenny was confused. "But I did make a good impression! Ah—if you mean my song and dance being cut—"
"Your song and dance was cut?" Cesare's voice rose slightly, but he changed his mind before Jenny could answer. "Never mind. For the script as a whole, it's actually a good thing. It's hardly a loss. What I want to know is: what did you do on set? Rob acts like a tyrant on set, and you won him over on your very first day?"
Jenny's heart pounded, but she forced herself to stay calm, even teasing Cesare back. "Is that surprise I hear in your voice? Cesare, surprise? Those two words don't exactly go together."
Perhaps realizing his slight lapse, Cesare's tone softened considerably. "Let's discuss this in person—are you free tomorrow morning?"
"No," Jenny asked. "Do you want me to come to the office? Why?"
"I've arranged dinner with Rob on Saturday, and you're coming too," Cesare said. "The rest of this week, you'll be preparing for that dinner."
"What do you mean?" Jenny was starting to get impatient. "You know you're being teasing, Cesare?"
"I want you to make a strong impression at that dinner, Jefferson," Cesare finally revealed his hand. "Get Rob to nod and put your name on the cast list for the Chicago musical. I want you to land the role of Roxie, understand? I want you to trample Renée Zellweger's performance underfoot on Broadway and use her as a stepping stone to your rise."