....
It had been over a week since the final draft of [The Hangover] was completed - including the storyboarding.
He had also given a full narration to three of his most trusted people.
The entire scripting process had taken Regal three weeks.
A full week longer than either of his last two projects.
Not because the script was especially complex - but because this ti, Regal hadn't completely isolated himself.
He had his hands in a dozen different things: managing tilines, outlining long-term strategies, approving system purchases, even glancing at web novels and comic adaptations, stats in between writing sessions.
Still, the final script ca in at just 120 pages.
That number startled him at first. Regal was used to layering in detail - every shot, every beat, every reaction ticulously described.
But sowhere during the drafting process, he realized sothing:
Cody is deceptively hard.
Harder than he rembered. Harder than [Following] or [Death Note], with all their noir shadows and moral dread.
In those films, he could feel when a scene worked. The tension, the pacing, the character arcs - he knew how to build them. He knew exactly what to tell his actors.
But with cody?
Even with [World Class] activated under his [Writing] skill, there was still that lingering sliver of doubt.
Would the gag land?
Would the timing hold?
Cody didn't follow the sa rules. It couldn't be forced. And no matter how perfect it looked on paper, the performance would always be the deciding factor.
And yet... he liked that.
The risk. That slight uncertainty before stepping onto set - it gave him a thrill.
Still, he couldn't just leave it to fate.
Casting was everything in a film like this.
Every line depended on delivery. Every joke on chemistry.
It would take ti - possibly more ti than the writing itself.
Then, his mind wandered.
Why were cody filmmakers rarely given the sa respect?
Even in his past world, actors who excelled at cody - who brought joy to millions - were often boxed in.
Typecast. Underrated.
Take soone like Jim Carrey.
A genius in codic timing. Unmistakable presence. Loved across all age groups. Quoted endlessly.
But when it ca to critical acclaim? He had to fight to be taken seriously.
Drama actors walked into the Oscars.
Cody actors - no matter how beloved, no matter how iconic - were always handed the sa consolation prizes: People's Choice Awards, a pat on the back, and maybe a spot in cult history.
To Regal, that had always been a quiet mystery.
How could sothing that brought so much joy... be treated like an afterthought?
Today, he was ready to challenge that.
He didn't just want to make a cody film. He wanted to make a cody film - the one that would stand as the genre's high mark.
A film so universally celebrated, so wildly successful, that the world would have no choice but to look again - to take cody seriously.
To see not only its power to make people laugh, but also its value at the box office...
...and it's right to earn respect.
Awards that mattered.
Artistic rit that couldn't be brushed off.
A seat at the table - not as a side dish, but as a main course, right alongside drama, thriller, and everything else that had long basked in the spotlight.
A seat at the table - just like any other genre.
....
Anyway, circling back, once the final draft was locked in, Regal quickly turned his attention to casting.
But this ti, things were going to take longer.
A four-day sprint of rapid-fire auditions wasn't going to cut it for this kind of film.
Instead, he asked Samantha to start quietly tracking down the actors he had in mind.
It was... awkward, honestly.
Giving her nas he didn't actually know - just vague impressions, placeholders.
Telling her to 'find them'.
So, for now, he only gave her the nas of the three lead roles.
Even that felt a little strange.
And sohow, Samantha always nodded, scribbled it down, and said. "I will find them."
If that was all there was to casting.
When it ca to pitching the project.
Even though the script was done, Regal didn't give a full narration to studios.
Instead, this ti around he presented a sharp, five-minute concept for [The Hangover] to a few select studios - and the reaction was different.
Very different.
From the start, he made it clear: this wasn't so moody thriller like [Following]. This wasn't a cerebral noir or morally dense drama like [Death Note].
This was a full-blown, unapologetic cody.
And yet - despite the pivot in genre, despite the tonal shift - the studios didn't hesitate.
In fact, they jumped in.
No, more than that.
They scrambled.
His na alone had beco a kind of beacon, an early-access stamp to a project bound to turn heads.
And while [The Hangover] wasn't a sequel, it was riding on the montum of two critically acclaid hits. That gave it weight.
The studios began outbidding each other to secure a seat at the table.
And all this happened before anyone had even read the full script.
It was, in part, a strategy, to put pressure on Red Studios.
Because as business-oriented as their collaboration was, Regal also believed in energy. In rhythm. In trust.
At this point, a Regal film under Red Studios wasn't just another release, it had beco an event.
To the studio, if Regal delivered one more hit this year, and they believed he would, it would seal the pattern.
Like a stamp.
A guaranteed Regal film, every year.
A brand.
And sure, maybe they earned a little less on his projects compared to others... but who else could promise you a guaranteed hit, year after year?
With that single move, Regal reminded Red Studios of his value.
The negotiations were now almost entirely in his favor.
Creative control? Granted.
Final say on casting, editing, marketing? On the table.
Of course, he wasn't going to rip them off, he believed in fairness, but he was going to take his rightful share.
Still, there was a catch.
Even Red Studios, despite their excitent, initially hoped to fund the entire project themselves.
Their preferred deal?
Hire Regal on a flat writer-director fee. Toss him a modest 4–5% of the profits, if they felt generous.
A few studios went further.
Offering a 50/50 co-funding arrangent to sweeten the pitch.
But it was clear what they were really after:
Control over the lion's share.
Keep Regal boxed in. Let him build the house while they owned the deed.
That's the reason Regal pulled this trick... To remind them that he is indeed doing them a favor.
Naturally, Regal didn't let that happen.
All of this unfolded in the two weeks following the completion of the final draft.
....
While Samantha was still busy tracking down the nas he had given her - Regal decided to shift his focus.
He turned his attention to sothing entirely different.
The casting of the non-human characters.
And, most importantly, the baby.
Ironically, it was shaping up to be the hardest casting decision in [The Hangover].
That process had quietly begun in the background, even while Regal was still finalizing the script.
Per his early instructions, the search had been spearheaded by Simon, his line producer.
They had prepared themselves for what they knew would be a long and demanding process. After all, they weren't just looking for supporting actors.
They needed a tiger.
And a hen.
And a baby.
And as luck would have it, they found the baby first.
The role of the six-month-old, Tyler, a.k.a. Carlos was sohow locked within a week. A stroke of fortune. One of the crew mbers had a close family connection who happened to have the perfect baby for the part.
Since the baby would essentially function as a specialized extra, with a limited number of scenes, the legal side of things was fairly straightforward. The entire role could be wrapped in about fifteen days of filming, tops.
With that out of the way, the team shifted focus to the animals - just yesterday, in fact.
And this, they already knew, was going to take so ti.
Yes, you heard that right.
Tigers.
Even though there would only be one tiger on screen, the production would require two behind the scenes.
More precisely, two male Bengal tigers.
Both were seasoned professionals - Hollywood veterans.
Misha, age 7.
And Dharma, age 6.
The pair would be loaned from an accredited exotic animal training facility based in Acton, California.
Regal had been clear from the beginning: real tigers, no substitutes. No CGI stand-ins unless absolutely necessary. Which ant the tiger search had technically started four months before the main cast auditions had even begun.
To handle it properly, the team brought in an animal casting director - Cassandra Vale.
Cassandra, a middle-aged industry veteran with decades of animal coordination experience, was intrigued when she read the script. She hadn't expected the animals to be so central to the story.
They weren't just background color - they had narrative weight. Their presence shifted scenes. Made them morable.
Cassandra reviewed nearly 20 different candidates before narrowing it down to the final two, based on temperant, comfort in enclosed spaces, and ease around caras and bright lighting.
Dharma was the calr of the two, stoic, composed, ideal for close-up shots.
Misha, on the other hand, had a sharper energy, better for movent-heavy shots and quick, reactive snarls.
Their contract was sealed at $1,200 per day per tiger, with additional hazard pay for shoots running longer than eight hours.
Clause 4.2 in the agreent explicitly required one licensed trainer per tiger, always present and within arm's reach, plus two backup handlers on standby at all tis.
Total estimated cost for tiger participation? $36,400. That covered training, travel, insurance, and idle days.
For now, it was ti to start their prep.
Training would begin in a few days.
The plan? Eight weeks of gradual acclimation.
The tigers needed to be conditioned to bathroom tiles, artificial lighting, enclosed hotel-room sets, and loud, unpredictable noises. To that end, a full-scale replica of the hotel suite had already been constructed at the training facility.
There, the tigers would rehearse with stand-in crew, fake caran, and scent-marked clothing from the lead actors.
Animal welfare officers from the Arican Humane Association (AHA) would be on-site throughout the process. The goal? To secure that rare, coveted badge: No Animals Were Hard.
To get there, daily health logs would be required. Hydration schedules. Stress indicators. Hourly rest intervals. It all had to be docunted. Diligently.
But as it turned out, the real challenge wasn't the tigers.
It was the hen.
Due to its smaller fra and naturally skittish behavior, the hen was much harder to control. Still, thanks to one particular white Silkie—nad Matilda—the process ran smoother than anyone had dared hope.
From the first few trials, Matilda stunned the team. During a simple test shoot, she perched calmly in the center of an elevator floor and stayed perfectly still - on cue.
Regal was quietly impressed.
He already had the entire film mapped out beat by beat in his head, but this little performance sparked sothing.
Unofficially, Matilda beca The Fourth Hangover Guy.
Regal imdiately rewrote parts of the script, inserting more close-up shots of the hen than he had originally planned. Subtle inserts, dry cutaways, a perfectly deadpan presence - Matilda added sothing no one expected.
Her contract was brokered through Feathered Talent Inc., a niche talent agency that specializes in poultry, parrots, and waterfowl. Matilda was booked at $400 per filming day, plus a premium diet of certified organic grains.
Total cost: $3,600.
She traveled with a custom portable coop trailer, had a personal handler at all tis, and was legally required to take a ten-minute break every hour.
Ironically, it took longer to condition the crew to Matilda than it took to train the hen.
During her scenes, the set had to operate in near-silence. Even low-frequency hums or vibrations could spook her. LED rigs had to be recalibrated to avoid flickering in a spectrum that caused her distress.
And all of this - was before they would even begin main cast auditions.
But the paperwork didn't end there.
If getting contracts signed and docunting every detail for animal welfare was one logistical hurdle, then getting permission to film with these animals in Las Vegas was an entirely separate nightmare.
And it was still ongoing.
City ordinances demanded multiple permits for any wild or farm animal entering a comrcial or hospitality structure. Hotels, casinos, parking garages - it didn't matter. Tigers and hens were treated the sa in the eyes of the law: security risks.
The Nevada Departnt of Wildlife, alongside the Clark County Animal Control Board, eventually issued temporary clearances.
With a condition.
A licensed vet had to be on call 24 hours a day throughout the shoot.
And then ca the public heat.
PETA attempted to call out the production, demanding Regal switch to CGI tigers. In response, the team released behind-the-scenes footage of Dharma and Misha's off-cara environnt: a lush, temperature-controlled trailer compound, complete with enrichnt toys, open exercise yards, and nightly rubdowns from their dedicated handlers.
It was a smart counter.
Still, the production was required to send daily health and treatnt reports to the AHA. In total, the animal-related docuntation reached a staggering 172 pages.
All of this.
All of this before they had even stepped on a set.
Before they had auditioned a single actor from the core trio.
Regal stood alone, scrolling through updates on his tablet, his eyes scanning the cluttered production schedule.
A quiet sigh slipped out.
"...Sigh..."
And this wasn't even the hard part.
Still, a faint glimr of relief crossed his face.
"At least." He muttered. "I might have just found the first mber of the Hangover gang. I know I can count on Samantha..."
.
....
[To be continued...]
★─────⇌•★•⇋─────★
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