“The best things. I've seen your work on theRoadhouseremake, the Wonderland Studios films, that insane car chase sequence inFast & Furious. You have an eye for making actionfeel real without sacrificing safety.” She leans forward. “Tell me why you want to make the switch.”
This is the question I've been preparing for, but somehow, it still catches me off guard. How do you explain that your body is starting to betray you without sounding like damaged goods? How do you admit that you're tired of being the guy who gets thrown through windows instead of the guy who figures out how to make it look good?
“I love this business,” I say, and the honesty in my voice surprises me. “I've been doing stunts for fourteen years, and I still get excited every morning when I show up to set. But as I get older, I can feel the difference. Recovery takes longer. The moves that used to be second nature require more thought, more preparation.”
Helena nods, no judgment in her expression.
“I want to stay in this world for as long as possible,” I continue. “And coordination lets me use everything I've learned while building something bigger than just my own performance. I want to create sequences that make audiences forget they're watching a movie. I want to mentor younger stunt performers the way the coordinators I worked with mentored me.”
“That's exactly what I want to hear,” Helena says. “Let me tell you aboutPace.”
She turns her tablet toward me, showing concept art of sleek Formula One cars racing through Monaco, Silverstone, and other tracks I recognize from watching races with my dad.
“It's the story of the first woman to break into Formula One as a driver,” she explains. “Not just as a novelty or a publicity stunt, but as a real contender for the championship. We're following her rookie season as she deals with sexism, rivalries, media pressure, and the constant threat of death that comes with driving two hundred miles per hour.”
The concept art is stunning: high-speed chases through narrow European streets, crashes that look devastating but controlled, close-ups of drivers' faces that capture the terror and exhilaration of the sport.
“The network is giving us a budget that would make most feature films jealous,” Helena continues. “But they want everything to look and feel completely authentic. No CGI shortcuts, no AI, no obvious stunt doubles. When our lead character is racing, the audience needs to believe she's actually behind that wheel.”
“That's ambitious,” I say, studying the storyboards. “And expensive.”
“Very. Which is why I need someone who can design sequences that look incredible while keeping everyone alive.” She flips to a particular scene. “This is the one I've been struggling with. It's the climax of episode six. Our protagonist is racing at Monaco, and there's a multi-car accident that she has to navigate while going full speed.”
I look at the storyboard, and immediately I can see the problems. The angles are wrong, the timing is impossible, and there's no way to make it safe for real drivers.
“May I?” I gesture to her tablet.
She slides it over, and I start sketching rough modifications on the digital storyboard. “You're thinking about this like a traditional car race, but Formula One is different. The cars are lower, faster, more responsive. We had a similar setup on a commercial I did with the Bobby Ore team last year—tight angles, low rigs, full-speed run through a closed course in Burbank. If you don't plan for sight lines and trajectory, someone's going to get clipped. Instead of trying to stage the whole accident in one shot, you break it into pieces.”
I draw quick lines showing different camera angles. “You start with the wide establishing shot of the accident beginning.Then you cut to interior shots of our lead seeing it develop. Then extreme close-ups of wheels, debris, sparks. By the time you cut back to the wide shot of her navigating through the wreckage, the audience will be so invested they won't question how she managed it.”
Helena watches as I work, occasionally asking questions about sight lines and safety protocols. This is what I love about coordination work. It's like solving a three-dimensional puzzle where every piece has to serve both the story and the people performing it.
“You use stunt drivers for the wide shots,” I continue, “but your lead actress only needs to be in the car for the close-ups and reaction shots. You can shoot those at thirty miles per hour and make them look like two hundred with the right camerawork and sound design.”
“Brilliant,” Helena says, and she sounds like she means it. “That's exactly the kind of thinking I need on this project.”
We spend another twenty minutes going through other scenes, and I find myself getting more excited than I've been about work in months. This isn't just about making things look cool. It's about telling a story that matters, about bringing a character to life in a way that's never been done before.
“This is exactly the kind of vision I need for this project,” Helena says as we wrap up. “I'm really impressed, Brandon. You'll definitely be hearing from me soon. I need to work through some formalities on my end, but…” She pauses, and there's something that feels like a promise in her smile. “Let's just say I think this could be the beginning of a very exciting partnership.”
“I hope so,” I say, and I mean it more than I've meant anything in a long time.
“I heard through the grapevine that you and Stella are together now,” Helena says with a knowing smile. “She's lovely, by the way. Very sharp.”
“We're just friends,” I say automatically, then immediately feel like an ass for it. It's not that I want to hide what happened between us, far from it. But Stella and I haven't even talked about what crossing the friendship line means, and the last thing I want is for her to hear through the Hollywood rumor mill that I'm telling people we're together before we've figured out what we actually are. She deserves better than that. We both do.
“Really?” Helena raises an eyebrow. “Could have fooled me at that premiere. You two had some serious chemistry.”
“She's a good friend,” I repeat, hating how the words taste like a lie.
“My assistant will send you some additional materials to review. Keep your schedule flexible for the next few weeks.”
I shake Helena's hand, thank her again, and walk out of the building feeling ten feet taller. It's the kind of meeting that makes all the years of bruises and uncertainty feel like momentum instead of survival. My phone buzzes as I cross the street toward my car.
Stella.
The second I see her name, I'm already smiling. Of course she's the first person I want to tell.
