And now, the encore.


While they think the BTS camera isn't looking, Sophia and Chosen stand in Neibolt's snow-covered front yard, staring up at the roof. Up above, four set handymen are in the process of stringing Christmas lights along the edges, tied off by safety harnesses as per studio policy. Discussing the impending shot, one young star is reasonably optimistic for their costar's sake.

The back-and-forth goes as well as anyone would expect. Turns out, Chosen isn't a fan of heights.

"It's not happening."

"You don't know that."

"I do. And I'm telling you, it's not happening."

"Quit being stubborn, Chose."

"It's not being stubborn if you know it's a bad idea."

"Your argument is invalid."

"Your face is invalid."

And so on...


Camera malfunctions are the devil. Waiting on said malfunctions to be hashed out, when you could be setting up elsewhere, is even worse. Bill and Wyatt both know there is no use in complaining, so they don't. Between takes, neither are allowed to leave the room, much less shed their costumes. So they pass the downtime time as best they can.

Both actors are kneeling, to either side of the hospital bed, leaning on their arms.

Staring at each other. It is as though, while no one was looking, they assumed holding this absurd contest.

To what end?

Who knows?

"..."

"..."

". . . . ."

". . . . ."

The staredown ensues for perhaps three minutes, as the set goes quieter and quieter around them.

That is, before a bemused Andy Muschietti clears his throat, sounding just a little perturbed. "Ahem. Guys?"

Without so much as a flinch, Bill raises an eyebrow at his younger costar. "You hear something, Wyatt?"

"Nah. You?"

"Sounded like Andy... maybe, kinda, sorta."

"Saying we're ready?"

"Du önskar."

"What?"

"You wish."

"Guys!"

Who's keeping who waiting now?


Rain, rain, go away. Come again some other day.

Holding an uncomfortable pose for the sake of the shot, Jaeden stares directly into the lens. There is an impressive amount of water adorning his face. Most of which is starting to gather in his upturned eyes.

That is, until he finally splutters and backpedals out of frame.

"Seriously, stop! Ugh! God, this is the real water torture."

Snickers erupt off camera.


Effects guys are really pyromaniacs in disguise.

Faced with shooting a burning-down Neibolt set, Andy wholly expects it to be a smoky, awful day.

Digital fire costs more. But, just gazing at the empty setup before anyone is situated, he swears he can already smell the smoke. The fire bars aren't even lit.

Turning to the BTS camera, he tilts his head. "...You smell something burning?"

Then a telltale crackle begins to emanate from behind a far wall, smoke puffing through seams in the wood.

The BTS cameraman chuckles. "Code Red, boss man."


"You're older than Earth and you still don't know shit about it."

Before a cut can be called, Bill shoulders in one offscreen retort.

"What can you expect? There was a time before feeds kept you up to date on anything."


"We waiting on something, Bill?"

Standing by in costume, Bill's contact-lensed eye cants just slightly toward the camera. Off in the near-distance, Andy is framing the sky as diligently as he sets up the foreground of a shot, with the help of three assistants offering their varied opinions and hopes. Is it really the same shade of blue as the day before? Are they gonna have to spend more on color-correction in post?

Bill knows these kinda cinematographic questions just go with the territory.

Doesn't mean he's entirely forgiving of having to wait even longer in this sweatshop-of-a-suit, as he flatly declares:

"Andy's pulling a Stanley Uris today. Riveting stuff, you should watch."


"Iron Maiden!"

"Ozzy!"

"Grateful Dead!"

"Metallica!"

"AC/DC! Oh, wait. We already did that."

Happening upon the mysterious tape switchers between setups (after enduring the seventh take with the wrong music belting out of the stereo), the BTS cameraman inadvertently discovers who is responsible.

"Finn!"

Jeremy and Wyatt decline to rise to their costar's defense, promptly skedaddling, leaving him alone in the lens. Wide-eyed, Finn uselessly hides the cassettes behind his back. "It wasn't me, I swear! It's a conspiracy!"


"Guaruba gua-row. Wait. No, that isn't it. Gua-ruba guaroubi. No, I just made up a new species. Guaruba guaro- Don't- stop laughing!"

It's okay, Jeremy. Scientific names are a bitch.


"You've got something there."

Bill points to a space below Jack's chin.

A little punch-drunk after so many takes wrestling in the grass, the kid falls for it. He looks. "Where?"

One gloved finger gently flicks his downturned nose. "There!"

"Gah!" Jack flinches, reaching to cover his face protectively. Then, hearing his older costar's off-screen snickering: "God, if this role doesn't turn you into a sadist yet..."


"Incoming!"

Just as they're fooled into believing the shot is ready, Jack and Finn scarcely manage to dodge a salvo of bucket-tossed slime, which splatters harmlessly on the wall. The stand-in 'drool' is foul, slippery and smells slightly like alcohol. But the real problem is, per an inventory screw-up, they have too much of it on hand.

So, rather than send it back...

Cut to Bill. Not as nimble in his ungainly costume, the Swede can only flinch and closes his eyes at being dealt another coating of slime to the face, as thrown by some unseen attacker.

"Not nice, Andy. Not nice at all."

Retaliation for holding the hospital scene up the other day?

If effects guys are pyromaniacs, set dressers have too much fun with their craft as well.


Barred from leaving the couch, Jaeden indulges in a rare moment of feel-sorry-for-myself.

"Nope, not scary," he deadpans, out of the blue.

"What isn't?" Bill asks, seated beside (instead of behind) Jaeden while the camera is off.

"Poltergeist."

"No?"

"Not after watching it twenty times, no."

"It hasn't been twenty takes."

"I meant, casually. Reacting to something you've seen before always gets repetitive."

"Yes, but twenty times?"

"On and off," Jaeden mumbles, absently twirling a bit of popcorn between his fingers. "But if the artiste behind the camera is still unhappy - "

"Nope! One more."