# Chapter 9: Behind the Curtain
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Michael showed up at Crossroads Entertainment offices at 8 AM on a Monday, two days after signing the contract.
Jennifer looked surprised to see him. "Michael? We don't start pre-production meetings until next week. Shooting doesn't begin for another six weeks."
"I know," Michael said. "But I want to learn. I want to understand how all of this works—casting, pre-production, set design, everything. Would it be okay if I... observed?"
Jennifer studied him for a moment, then smiled. "You're serious about this, aren't you? Not just the acting."
"I want to direct someday. Produce. I need to understand the whole process, not just my part in it."
"Alright. You can sit in on meetings, watch the process. Just stay out of the way and don't interrupt unless you're asked a direct question. Deal?"
"Deal."
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Michael became a fixture around the Crossroads offices over the following weeks.
He sat in the corner during casting sessions, watching as dozens of actors auditioned for the supporting roles. Observed how Jennifer and Shawn discussed each performer after they left—noting chemistry, screen presence, whether they fit the vision.
He learned that casting wasn't just about talent. It was about energy, about how actors played off each other, about finding people who could elevate the material.
In his small leather notebook—$3 at a dollar store—Michael wrote:
*Casting notes: Chemistry matters more than individual talent. An actor can be brilliant alone but wrong for the ensemble. Shawn looks for naturalism over theatricality. Jennifer focuses on budget—can we afford them, are they worth the investment?*
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One afternoon, Shawn pulled him aside. "Hey, Michael. Want to talk about who's playing adult Mike?"
Michael looked up from his notebook. "You found someone?"
Shawn grinned. "Yeah. Me."
Michael blinked. "You're... you're going to act in it?"
"Just the opening and closing scenes. Adult Mike before the transformation and after. It's maybe ten minutes of screen time total." Shawn shrugged. "I directed *Just Married* a few years back, did some acting before that. Figured I could save us money and time by playing the role myself. Plus, it'll help me understand your performance better if I've been in Mike's headspace as an adult."
Michael nodded slowly, processing. In his original timeline, Matthew Perry had played adult Mike. But Shawn Levy? That was... different. Interesting.
"That works," Michael said finally. "As long as we match the character's energy between ages."
"Exactly what I was thinking. Let's schedule some rehearsal time, just you and me. We'll figure out Mike's physicality, his mannerisms, make sure there's continuity."
*Note: Directors who act in their own films have unique perspective. Shawn understands both sides—performance and technical. This is valuable.*
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Pre-production was a revelation.
Michael sat in on production design meetings, watching as the team built the world of the film. The high school sets, Mike's house, the gym where the pivotal basketball game would take place.
He learned about shot lists and storyboards—how Shawn planned each scene visually before they ever got to set. How cinematographers discussed lighting and camera angles, how those choices affected mood and storytelling.
The costume designer showed him how clothing told stories about characters. Teenage Mike's wardrobe needed to reflect that he was an adult in a kid's body—slightly more mature choices, colors that set him apart from his peers.
Michael wrote everything down.
*Production design note: Every visual choice is storytelling. Nothing is accidental. The color palette of Mike's house (warm, nostalgic) vs. the high school (cold, institutional) reflects his emotional journey.*
*Costume note: Wardrobe progression shows character arc. Mike starts trying to dress like a teen, gradually shifts to more authentic expression of his adult self in young body.*
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The casting finally came together.
Leslie Mann was cast as Scarlet, Mike's wife. She had comedy chops and dramatic range—perfect for the emotional scenes.
Sterling Knight, a young actor with Disney Channel experience, was cast as Alex, Mike's son. He had the right mix of teenage awkwardness and hidden depth.
For Maggie, Mike's daughter, they cast Michelle Trachtenberg. She'd been in *Buffy* and had the maturity to handle the more dramatic beats.
Michael sat in on the table read—the first time the entire cast gathered to read through the script together.
Hearing his words spoken by professional actors was surreal. Some lines landed perfectly. Others fell flat, and Shawn would make notes about rewrites.
"This is normal," Shawn told him during a break. "Scripts evolve. What reads well on paper doesn't always play out loud. Don't be precious about the words—be precious about the story."
*Note: Scripts are living documents. Stay flexible. Serve the story, not your ego.*
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Michael learned about the shooting schedule—how they'd film out of sequence for efficiency. All the high school scenes together, then the house scenes, then the exteriors.
He learned about call sheets and crew hierarchy. Who the key grip was, what a best boy did, why the script supervisor was one of the most important people on set.
He watched rehearsals, studying how Shawn worked with actors. The director was collaborative, open to improvisation, but also decisive when needed. He created a safe space for experimentation while keeping the ship moving forward.
*Directing note: Balance between collaboration and control. Shawn listens to everyone but makes final decisions quickly. No endless debate. Trust your instincts.*
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Five weeks flew by.
Michael spent mornings at the production office, afternoons rehearsing his scenes. Shawn worked with him extensively—helping him find the physical comedy, the emotional truth, the balance between broad humor and genuine heart.
"You've got good instincts," Shawn told him after a particularly strong rehearsal. "You understand the character. Now we just need to make sure you can sustain that energy through twelve-hour shooting days."
"I can handle it," Michael said.
"We'll see." But Shawn was smiling.
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The night before the first day of shooting, Michael couldn't sleep.
He lay in bed in his apartment, staring at the ceiling, running through his lines. The first scene they were shooting tomorrow was the transformation—the magical moment when adult Mike becomes seventeen again.
It was a pivotal scene. It set the tone for everything that followed.
Michael had rehearsed it a hundred times, knew every beat, every reaction. But tomorrow it would be real. Cameras, crew, lights. The pressure of an entire production depending on him to deliver.
*You can do this*, he told himself. *You've prepared. You know this character better than anyone.*
He finally fell asleep around 3 AM, alarm set for 5:30.
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**Day One: Scene 1, Take 1**
The high school gym had been transformed into their set. Lights everywhere, cameras on tracks, crew members moving with practiced efficiency.
Michael stood in his first position, wearing the costume that teenage Mike would wear—jeans, a vintage band t-shirt, sneakers. He felt oddly calm now that the moment had arrived.
Shawn approached, put a hand on his shoulder. "Remember: you're an adult trapped in a teenager's body. Confusion first, then realization, then wonder. Let it build naturally. Don't rush it."
"Got it."
"And Michael? Enjoy this. First day of your first movie. That only happens once."
Michael nodded, feeling the weight and the excitement of that truth.
The assistant director called out: "Picture's up! Quiet on set!"
Shawn moved to his director's chair, checking the monitor. "Let's make some magic, people. *17 Again*, Scene 12—Mike's transformation. And... action!"
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The scene took six takes to get right.
The first was too broad—Michael played the confusion too big. The second was too subtle—the camera couldn't read his reaction. The third had a technical issue with lighting.
But on take four, something clicked. Michael found the perfect balance—the physical comedy of looking down at his suddenly teenage body, the dawning horror and wonder, the small moment of touching his face and realizing everything had changed.
"Cut!" Shawn's voice was excited. "That was great! Let's do one more for safety, but I think we've got it."
Take five was even better.
"Cut! Moving on!" Shawn grinned at Michael. "Welcome to filmmaking, kid. That's how it's done."
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**Time Skip: Week Two**
They were shooting the cafeteria scene—Mike's first day back at high school, navigating the social hierarchy and trying not to embarrass himself.
Michael had fifteen pages of dialogue, rapid-fire comedy as he tried to fit in while his adult brain screamed at the absurdity of it all.
"Scene 47, Take 3. Action!"
Michael delivered the lines while dodging extras, reacting to the chaos around him, keeping his energy up despite being exhausted from six hours of shooting the same sequence.
The script supervisor approached during a lighting reset. "You're doing great. Staying consistent across takes. That's not easy."
Michael smiled, exhausted. "Thanks. Just trying to keep up."
In his notebook that night, he wrote:
*Continuity is harder than it looks. Remembering exactly how you held a prop, which hand you used, your exact position—it all matters when they edit it together. The script supervisor is your best friend.*
*Physical comedy is exhausting. Six hours playing the same scene from different angles. Keep the energy fresh each time while being technically precise. Harder than dramatic scenes.*
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**Time Skip: Week Five**
They were shooting one of the most important scenes: Mike sitting with his daughter Maggie at the basketball game, trying to connect with her without revealing who he really is.
It was all subtext and emotion. Mike desperate to tell her he loves her, that he's proud of her. Maggie seeing something in this strange new kid that reminds her of her father at his best.
"Scene 73, Take 1. Action!"
Michael and Michelle Trachtenberg sat in the prop bleachers, the gym crowd as background extras. The dialogue was simple, but everything was in the performance—the pauses, the looks, the almost-touches.
When Shawn called cut after the first take, there was unusual silence on set.
Then the script supervisor wiped her eyes. "Sorry, that just... that got me."
"Me too," Jennifer said from behind the monitors. "Michael, that was beautiful."
Shawn nodded. "One more for safety, then we're moving on. But yeah, that was the take."
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**Time Skip: Week Eight**
The final scene. The last day of principal photography.
Mike—back in his adult body, but changed by his experience—stands with his family. The speech where he tells them that sometimes you don't realize what you had until you get a second chance to appreciate it.
It was the emotional climax of the film. Everything built to this moment.
Shawn had saved it for last intentionally. By now, the cast had lived with these characters for two months. The emotion was real.
"Final scene, everyone. Let's make it count. Scene 112, Take 1. Action!"
Michael—playing adult Mike now, Shawn having filmed his parts earlier—delivered the speech. About love and family and second chances. About choosing the life you have instead of mourning the life you imagined.
The words were his, from his script, but they carried new weight now. After months of living this story, of working with this cast and crew, of betting everything on this film.
When he finished, there was silence.
Then the crew started applauding. Quietly at first, then louder.
Shawn called cut, then stood from his director's chair. "That's a wrap on *17 Again*!"
More applause. People hugging, a few tears.
Michael stood there, still in character, feeling the weight of what they'd just completed.
Jennifer approached, smiling. "How do you feel?"
"Exhausted. Exhilarated. Terrified."
"Good. That's exactly how you should feel." She squeezed his shoulder. "You did it, Michael. You really pulled it off."
Shawn joined them. "Seriously, kid. I had my doubts, I won't lie. But you proved me wrong. You carried this film."
"We all carried it," Michael said. "This was a team effort."
"Sure. But you were the center of it." Shawn grinned. "Now comes the hard part—waiting to see if audiences agree with us."
Michael thought about his contract. The 2.5% of box office if the film crossed $100 million domestic.
Everyone on set thought he was crazy for taking that deal.
But Michael knew something they didn't.
This film was going to be huge.
He just had to wait for the world to discover it.
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**END CHAPTER 9**