After signing with CAA, Jenny visited the agency several times, mostly to sign contracts. She'd encountered a few big stars, once even brushing past Leonardo DiCaprio, though he hadn't noticed her—partly because she was a minor player, partly because Jenny's visits to CAA could almost be described as unkempt. She wore no makeup, and her demeanor wasn't particularly commanding. To these entertainment industry insiders, accustomed to seeing beautiful women daily, she didn't stand out much.
This visit was much the same. She had an afternoon rehearsal at Universal Studios, so she wore no makeup, just a T-shirt and jeans for easy movement. When she arrived, Cesare was still on a conference call. His assistant, Nara, brought her a glass of water and asked curiously, "Except for your first meeting with Cesare, you never seem to wear makeup. May I ask why?"
Jenny smiled. "Why do you think?"
"I don't know," Nara shook her head. "But I know Cesare must value you highly. Back when Jennifer—the other Jennifer—was on our floor, Cesare always had her hire a personal stylist and makeup artist whenever she came over."
Put simply, Chen Zhen had previously been a socialite wife. Her job was essentially navigating circles of idle, wealthy women who spent their days comparing themselves to each other. As everyone knows, idleness breeds trouble... So when it came to office politics, Chen Zhen was highly experienced. She could handle it effortlessly by adapting her past strategies slightly. She smiled, ignoring Nara's attempt at a conversation starter, and simply replied, "Is that so?"
Nara's true intention was to imply that Chen Zhen was valued more by Cesare than Jennifer Bell, which was why Cesare tolerated her lack of grooming. Of course, this was flattery. But Chen Zhen didn't engage because she didn't want to provoke Jennifer Bell too quickly. Nara had been working here for at least two or three years. Before Chen Zhen arrived, she was always the one to greet Jennifer Bell whenever she visited CAA, so she and Bell's entourage were naturally familiar with each other. If Chen Zhen had spoken disparagingly about Bell today, and Nara later encountered Bell's entourage, exchanging even a few gossipy remarks—how would Jennifer Bell perceive her? Such an outcome was entirely plausible, especially since Bell remained a CAA artist, merely with a new agent.
Of course, she knew a clash between her and Bell was inevitable sooner or later. That day when Cesare explained the name change to Lilian, Jenny only believed about thirty percent of it. It might indeed be one of Cesare's considerations, but it couldn't possibly be the main reason. She didn't know Cesare well enough yet, but Jennifer instinctively believed he was absolutely capable of thinking, 'You, Jennifer Bell, betrayed me? Fine. I'll just promote another Jennifer to trample you underfoot.'
But this conflict could easily be postponed—certainly not now, while she had no foundation yet. For the same reason, Jenny intended to downplay yesterday's incident on set, digesting it alone without telling anyone. In any industry, newcomers inevitably endure hardships, and Hollywood was no exception.
Since Jenny hadn't responded warmly, Nara didn't press further. She returned to her work, while Jenny picked up a magazine to read. A short while later, Nara took a brief phone call before turning to Jenny. "You can go in now."
Though she'd just been rebuffed, her smile remained professional. Jenny returned a polite, business-like smile and pushed open the office door.
"Sit." Cesare remained engrossed in a script, his head never lifting as he uttered the curt command.
Jenny took her usual seat, glanced at her watch, and after waiting about a minute, stated directly, "You know my time is valuable too."
Cesare finally looked up—as always, impeccably handsome and immaculately groomed.
He folded the page of the script and set it aside. "My apologies. It's a brilliant script. I got completely absorbed."
Before Jenny could respond, he opened a drawer, pulled out several thick folders, and handed them to her. "These are materials for Chicago. You need to study them thoroughly by Saturday—preferably memorize them. This is a compilation of notable Broadway musicals from recent years and miscellaneous background knowledge. Read it. I don't want any awkward silences at Saturday's dinner where Rob speaks and you can't follow up."
Jenny took two folders and opened the third, light one. "This is—"
"The Chicago internal footage." Cesare was referring to the musical version. "You know there's no official DVD release. I pulled some strings to get this. Don't waste it."
"Wow." Jenny stared at the three folders, then looked back at Cesare. "So you really want me to play Roxie in the musical?"
Cesare glanced at her. "Do you think I'm the type to daydream? Or that I enjoy teasing you?"
He maintained absolute control throughout their meeting. Before Jenny could respond, he jumped to the next issue. "Tell me you have clothes suitable for Mastro's level, not that so-called evening gown cobbled together from a T-shirt the other day."
Jenny mentally scanned her wardrobe and shook her head regretfully—there was a reason she dressed plainly. The greatest legacy left by her original self, Jenny, was a collection of beautiful clothes and shoes. But since she'd successfully lost weight, her size had shrunk, and almost all her fitted garments no longer fit. Especially cocktail dresses—a perfect fit was crucial. So she genuinely didn't have any suitable outfits ready.
"Lillian will accompany you shopping in the next few days." Cesare showed no surprise. "Now let's talk about Robert. Tell me what you did on set to earn his admiration on your very first day?"
Every time she met with him, Jenny had to suppress the urge to clash with Cesare. It wasn't that she disliked him; it was just that his absolute command over the conversation made her uncomfortable.
She recounted her day on set in detail. Cesare listened while glancing at the script, but the moment she finished, he closed it and continued without pause. "Very good. Now I understand—you've been fortunate. In a way, Renee and Catherine have paved the way for you."
"What do you mean?" Jenny had a vague suspicion forming. "Did Rob's inexperience annoy some people?"
"You must understand he'd never directed a film before. Annie (Rob Marshall's first TV series) was impressive and won awards, but he wasn't the sole director. Many say they gave him the director title only because he wanted it, and the stage production couldn't do without his designs." "Cesare said. "Rob is an exceptionally talented director and a renowned choreographer, but let's be honest—he's far more celebrated for his dance work than his directing. This was his first big-screen venture, so technical oversights were inevitable. Add his perfectionism to the mix, and you can easily imagine yesterday's three-hour incident wasn't the first of its kind. Renee, Catherine, and Richard are all established actors accustomed to working with renowned directors. Working with a new director, there's bound to be a period of adjustment."
He took a sip of water. "According to my sources on set, the three leads were professional—they didn't openly defy the director's authority—but their attitudes inevitably showed some cracks. And Rob's a control freak, you know. People like that naturally have huge egos."
Jenny understood completely. "In plain terms, his directing wasn't flawless—he made several rookie mistakes and was so tense he couldn't tolerate criticism. Though no one yelled at him, they likely looked down on him internally. Rob sensed this, felt immense pressure, and craved affirmation, praise, and unconditional support. And I just happened to be the lucky one who did the right thing at the right time, right?"
Cesare flashed a business-like smile. "Understanding that is key to maintaining it. Rob is one of Broadway's most influential technical authorities in recent years. Securing his support is crucial for you."
"You mean the musical?" Jenny finally found her opening. "—By the way, I think this whole idea is absolutely insane—but setting that aside, what I don't understand is why you suddenly want me to compete for a Broadway musical role. You know this would take at least six months. I'd have to leave Hollywood for half a year to perform in New York? Frankly, I don't see how this would benefit my film career."
"Jennifer." Cesare said calmly, as if Jenny's question had been entirely expected.
Jenny cut him off impatiently. "Jenny, please. It's either Jefferson or Jenny. Don't call me that fake name."
"Okay, Jefferson." Cesare readily complied, though his choice of words still left Jenny feeling uneasy. "Remember what we said the night we signed? My third condition?"
"...I'd trust you." Jenny recited reluctantly.
"So what are you doing now?" Cesare asked.
"...Fine," Jenny rolled her eyes visibly. "I won't ask. Okay, you told me to do a musical, so I'm doing it. Now back to the original question—have you lost your mind? Do you have any idea how cutthroat Broadway is? How huge Chicago is? Countless actors in Off-Broadway and Off-Off-Broadway are desperate to break into commercial shows on Broadway. Their professional backgrounds are undoubtedly stronger than mine, right? I mean, even they wouldn't dream of landing the lead in Chicago. What makes me think I could? How could it possibly be my turn?"
"Why not you?" Cesare countered, resting his hands on the table and leaning forward slightly, intensifying the pressure on Jenny. "Rob praised your singing. You've had professional training these past months. After filming Chicago, you'll have another month for lessons. You're already a great dancer. You have acting skills. You're beautiful. You have big-screen experience. Why not you?"
Jenny was speechless.
Cesare relaxed, leaning back in his chair. "Of course, you have your shortcomings. You lack name recognition—that's your biggest hurdle. No matter how strong your credentials, the producers won't rank you highly on their list. But we can overcome that with Robert's endorsement. Remember this: the stronger Robert's recommendation, the less significant your shortcomings become. You've already surprised me once—this dinner with Robert was largely your doing. I hope you'll surprise me again, earning even more admiration from Robert than I anticipated."
He fixed Jenny with a steady gaze. "Will you disappoint me?"
Under his intense pressure, Jenny couldn't help but let out a sarcastic laugh. "Have I ever disappointed you?"
Cesare's lips curved into another professional smile. "Then keep it up."
Her response was to sweep the folder into her bag, stand up, and stride out of the office.
She didn't say goodbye—it was rude, but she knew Cesare wouldn't care.
—Or maybe he did. Who cares? She certainly didn't....
Before heading to the set, Jenny stopped by her apartment to stash the materials. During filming, her bag would stay in the trailer. She didn't want any coincidental incidents that might tip the crew off about her bid for the lead in the Chicago musical.
That afternoon's shoot featured Gettie returning home from a party, discovering her lover's infidelity, and murdering him in a fit of rage. It consisted of about four or five takes—essentially a Gettie monologue. The cast was just her, plus the "adulterous couple." The actual filming process wasn't particularly noteworthy. Though Jenny had rehearsed countless times in the rehearsal space, confident her performance was flawless, Rob continued his pattern of low-level mistakes, dragging the shoot out for an entire afternoon.
Fortunately, the role of Kitty wasn't particularly challenging, and Jenny didn't need empathy to help her get into character. Kitty and Vanita's styles were quite similar. After so many nauseating simulations, Jenny hadn't fully mastered this style of acting, but she was certainly comfortable with it. It was like an instinctive reaction. With a slight mental adjustment, she could shift into that specific state, from head to toe. all the micro-expressions and mannerisms instantly shifted in style. This could also be considered progress in Chen Zhen's own acting skills.
Speaking of which, she herself categorizes her acting states: The first is the most basic—reading the script without simulation or empathy, performing it directly. This is the rawest form of expressionism, scoring barely a passing grade.
The second involves performing within an artistic space through empathetic acting, where emotions run unchecked and lines feel like her own words. This transcends mere experiential acting; it borders on method acting—a branch of experientialism where she fully inhabits the character, bordering on a mild form of dissociation. This approach merits an 80% score. The reason it doesn't reach perfection is that a skilled method actor maintains restraint and adjustment, presenting a "realistic character suitable for filming." Jenny's simulation, however, directly projects the real character, leaving many details still requiring refinement and modification.
The third approach involves cultivating empathy within the performance space and then carrying that resonance into real-life acting. While the empathy boosts the performance, it remains a lingering influence, allowing greater self-control. This represents a successful fusion of the experiential and method approaches, typically scoring around 85 points. Her performance in CSI exemplified this technique, leading to online comments like "her presence completely overshadows the TV show" and "her acting belongs on the big screen."
The fourth type involves returning to reality for performances without special effects after repeatedly practicing empathy in the performance space until mastery is achieved. This essentially replicates previous practice results, blending experiential and expressive approaches. According to Chen Zhen's self-assessment, this scores around 80 points. If the role is less complex and the scene relatively simple, it can reach 85 points.
Her portrayal of Gitty exemplified this approach. It stemmed partly from her desire to reduce reliance on the golden touch, and partly from Robert's tendency to reshoot scenes excessively. Chen Zhen had previously discovered that excessive empathy in a short period caused headaches. Given Robert's habit of spending three hours re-shooting a single simple shot, maintaining empathy throughout would have driven her mad. Thus, she half-heartedly adopted the fourth method.
The result turned out well enough. Rob had no complaints about her acting; his concerns were purely technical—lighting, framing, and other details that often trip up new directors. Jenny's job was to repeat the scene over and over, all afternoon long, like a broken record, endlessly replaying the same performance.
Acting, then, is not just a technical craft but a physical one. Even for supremely talented stars, the shooting process isn't like many imagine—one take, perfect, then move on to the next scene. Truly elite actors are consistently high-performing machines. It's not impressive to nail a scene on the first try; the real masters deliver the same quality on the hundredth take of the same day.
After shooting all afternoon, she went home exhausted and fell straight into bed, only getting up in the middle of the night to shower. The next two days were uneventful, but on the third day, she filmed the scene where Kitty gets arrested and thrown in jail—lashing out at reporters—and struggles fiercely. That wrapped up her shoot. After Robert revised the script, Kitty's role was reduced to what Chen Zhen saw in the final cut. The earlier musical sequence, including scenes showcasing Kitty's star power, had been cut. The role's screen time plummeted to about one or two minutes. As the actress playing the warden, "Mama," casually quipped, "If we'd known it would turn out like this, maybe only half as many actresses would have auditioned. At the very least, Lucy Liu wouldn't have shown up."
Lucy had already joined the Kill Bill crew by then. She and Jenny occasionally kept in touch—Jenny had naturally made friends on set, including the actress who played Velma in the musical Chicago, who portrayed one of the six female prisoners in the film.
However, she had zero interaction with Renee and Catherine throughout the entire shoot. Since they didn't share any scenes, there was simply no opportunity for contact. Even though they might have crossed paths during meals, Jenny wasn't about to court disaster by introducing herself. Beyond the first day, Renee's manager Veronica also stayed out of her way. After enduring one final grueling session with perfectionist Rob that left her aching all over, Jenny wrapped up her filming for Chicago and left the set.
The following days held no classes for her. Her only preparation was dinner with Rob Marshall on Saturday night.