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South

This is how South remembers the pilot: two days, two weeks long.

The first morning he shows up at 8:10 a.m., script in his mouth; he pulls off his shirt in the parking lot and somebody’s coming at him with a sponge. That day he eats three different meals called “lunch.” Bailey yells Cut, Wrap, Go Home at four in the morning.

South sleeps in his car for eleven hours. He wakes up, one big sweaty muscle knot, to Fenchurch the production assistant tapping on his window.

“They bought fifteen more minutes,” she says. “Shower, eat, next shoot’s at midnight.”

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