When George Lucas found time to visit the set, Irene was filming the final courtroom scenes.
"Hey, warm up the lighting. I want Reese to stand out."
"Got it, boss."
"This outfit for Elle isn’t working. It needs to be sharper, more professional. Have you seen appropriate business attire? I want a ’pink statement,’ not ’pink and soft.’ Change it."
When George arrived, he observed Irene giving instructions. No matter how even-tempered someone was, sitting in the director’s chair often changed their demeanor.
Seeing that Irene had not noticed him, he joined Francis in a nearby trailer to talk.
"Time passes quickly. Even Irene is directing now," George said, accepting the teacup Francis offered. He took a sip, found it hot, and set it down.
"Your Star Wars prequel should be in post-production, correct?" Francis asked, with a hint of inquiry that George recognized.
"What, you haven’t secured distribution for Irene’s film yet?"
Friends were difficult to conceal things from. "Several companies have expressed interest, but I haven’t decided. I was going to ask you—what’s your view on 20th Century Fox?"
"You’re planning ahead. Wait until Irene completes filming. Each studio has a different approach, and I can’t advise without seeing the final cut." George lifted the teacup again. "By the way, is Irene encountering major problems on set? You can call in favors, but if the film is poor, reputation alone won’t help."
Francis was on set daily and reviewed dailies after wrap. He had confidence in his daughter. "She isn’t at our level, but I expect she can achieve fifty or sixty million at the box office."
George nearly choked on his tea. "That confident?"
Francis did not elaborate and only smiled.
George remembered Francis had the same expression during The Godfather and felt reassured.
On set, while Irene supervised final adjustments, she noticed Edward Nelson approach.
He produced two Britney albums from his jacket. "Hey, boss, do you know how difficult these were to get? I waited in line."
Irene took them. She had been occupied and hadn’t supported her friend’s release. "Excellent. Go buy another hundred... no, two hundred. One for each crew member."
Edward paused. "Boss, I’d like to help, but I can’t. There’s a limit of one per customer. I bought these from someone at a markup."
"She’s that popular," Irene said. She had intended to support her, but it appeared unnecessary. "Never mind then. How much were these? I’ll reimburse you."
"It’s a small amount. Don’t worry. Next time you have a project, call me." Edward’s scenes had wrapped, but he hadn’t secured other work, so he remained on set. Whenever Irene was available, he stayed nearby.
Irene noted that he was attractive and had saved her rental costs, so she did not object and usually asked him to run errands. He became more proactive, working without pay and spending his own money.
Irene considered his acting ability, then looked at his features, and nodded despite reservations.
Edward had short light brown hair, blue eyes, a defined nose, and clear features. When he smiled, he was striking. His appearance was comparable to Leonardo DiCaprio at the time.
Unfortunately, his acting was not at that level, which explained why he had not achieved recognition previously.
Given his background, he did not need to pursue acting. Whether he succeeded or not, he could return to his family’s business. In her previous life, after encountering certain industry practices, he had left the field.
But in this life, he had met Irene, who appreciated appearance. "Boss, do you know any other suitable productions you could recommend?"
"What, still no work?" Even with limited skill, his appearance should have secured roles with dialogue.
"Don’t ask. I attend auditions and people claim they know producers or directors and can make me the next Leonardo, provided I’m cooperative. They suggest meeting at a hotel to discuss. They’re old enough to be my grandparents. If I’m going to comply, I’d rather work with you, Boss. What about casting me through a connection? I have confidence in you. I’ll be your regular supporting actor from now on."
"Thanks for the confidence. Would that benefit me or you? And you’re self-aware, only requesting supporting roles?"
"Heh, I forgot you’re still a minor, Boss. When you’re of age, feel free to contact me anytime."
"Leave."
"Director, lighting is set." During their exchange, time passed. The lighting crew had finished adjusting the overhead lights, and camera had completed track calibration. Everything was prepared.
Irene’s expression became focused. She walked to the monitor and picked up the radio. "All departments, stand by for a rehearsal." She turned to Reese, who was positioned at the crowd’s edge, her tone steady and confident. "Elle, remember, show composed elegance in the crowd—not exaggerated display, but internal confidence. Action."
The clapperboard sounded.
Elle Woods inhaled, raised her chin, and walked forward with assurance. She wore a bright pink suit, moving through a group in dark suits.
She moved against the flow, each step measured, her figure creating a distinct path through the crowd.
Without dialogue, the scene conveyed composure and presence.
The camera held on her glance back, showing both confidence and warmth.
"Cut," Irene said, then added via megaphone: "Good. But we can improve. Remember—you are not background, you are Harvard Law students. Look at Elle with assessment, curiosity, even slight confusion. We need to heighten the contrast. Another take."
When the final take was completed successfully, Irene stood from behind the monitor, looked at the crew and cast, took a breath, and announced clearly: "That’s a wrap on Legally Blonde."
The set erupted in cheers. Irene stood at the center as lights were turned off one by one, like a gradual curtain.
She experienced a sense of release, as if she had completed a long, demanding task and finally reached solid ground, still unsteady.
The past months passed through her mind: from the first failed take, to repeated schedule revisions; from late nights reviewing footage, to moments of tension and near exhaustion.
Now, those feelings settled into calm.
Every set, every prop, even the dust in the air had been under her direction.
She opened her hands. The texture of the script pages remained in her memory. Those hands had clenched in difficult moments, reminding herself to remain composed, to continue.
A new feeling emerged. It might not be perfect, or even exceptional, but she had completed it.
She looked once more at the empty courtroom set, then turned and joined the celebrating group.
Her steps were light but steady, like a student who had submitted an important examination. She did not know the outcome, but she had done the work.