10 Panic
TEN
Panic
This audition was going to make my Guiding Light chemotherapy scenes seem like a walk in the park.
“I know this is not the lighthearted comedy you want, but this movie will make your career,” my agent said. “If they cast you, you’ll be costarring with Nicole Kidman. Let me repeat that: NICOLE KIDMAN.”
Nicole Kidman was fresh off filming Moulin Rouge!
and fresh out of her marriage to Tom Cruise, and she was one of the most talented, bankable actresses in the world.
Moulin Rouge! hadn’t even been released, but she was already seen as a sophisticated, coolly emotional, regal presence in whatever film she signed on to.
She could sing, she could dance, she was gorgeous, and no matter what role she took on, she made it her own.
She was also one of my favorite actors in the world.
I figured lighthearted parts could wait. So while Mom filmed, I threw myself to the floor, seized up, curled my toes, and writhed in agony for thirty seconds straight. Then Mom packed up the tape and shipped it off to my agent.
The film was Panic Room, and it was the brainchild of David Fincher, who was coming off the blockbuster success of the psychological thrillers Seven and Fight Club.
He’d filmed Fight Club in around two hundred different locations, and it had exhausted him so much that he wanted his next movie to be the opposite.
He needed predictable, tight, and claustrophobic.
On one stage in Los Angeles, Panic Room would tell the story of a single mother and her daughter, who escape into their Upper West Side brownstone’s panic room when three men invade their home.
It was an amazing premise. I just needed to learn what a panic room was.
“It’s a secret room in your house that’s closed off from the outside, with no windows,” Dad said. “You go in there to hide during a home invasion or, I don’t know, a zombie apocalypse. Of course, if there’s a fire, you’re dead.”
The part really was perfect for me. Not only did Nicole Kidman have long, curly hair like me, but I’d be playing another tough-yet-emotional part.
The film was nonstop intensity, and because of my work on soaps, I’d learned how to dial up tension and play off other characters.
On Guiding Light, every drama pivoted among several different characters, their energy shifting in relation to one another.
I’ve been told that even when I’m not acting, I have a palpable energy; when I’m up, it’s like the sun has come out from behind the clouds.
When I’m down, everything feels dark. As an actor, Nicole Kidman is much the same.
I thought we were a match made in movie heaven.
David Fincher had liked my work in Remember the Titans.
If I got the part, I’d play a diabetic preteen named Sarah.
Nicole Kidman would play her mother, Meg, who was recently divorced and looking for a fresh start in her new home.
When three men invade the house looking for the $3 million they know is hidden under the floorboards, Meg and Sarah retreat into the panic room.
They think they’re safe but soon discover that the room doesn’t have a working phone.
Worse, Sarah doesn’t have her insulin. That’s where the seizure I put on tape came in.
The producers and David Fincher loved my audition. When my agent called me to say I got the part of Sarah, I felt like my chest might explode with happiness.
Before filming started, Mom and I packed up and moved to Manhattan Beach—just south of LA—where the set was located.
Mom rented a Chrysler Sebring convertible, which she did every time we went to LA, and we drove south along the ocean with the top down.
I met Nicole Kidman, who was delightful and even taller than I thought she’d be.
(Though—truth be told—I’m five foot two on a good day.
To me, everyone is tall.) Nicole and I began camera tests, and I went into costume fittings and hair and makeup trials to create a look for my character.
I even made plans for playdates with Nicole’s children, Isabella and Connor, who are three and five years younger than me.
I prayed that Nicole and I would fall into our roles as if we’d been born to play mother and daughter.
The script was intense, and the acting was physical, and with every line and every scene I committed to memory, I felt more and more exhilarated.
This went on for two glorious, jam-packed weeks until, one afternoon, Nicole hurt herself on set. No one—least of all me—knew what was going on.
Mom got a call that night from the film’s assistant director.
“Nicole Kidman injured her knee, Lesley,” she said. “Please tell Hayden that I am so sorry, but Nicole’s pulling out of the film.”
I didn’t hear a word of the conversation, but from the set of Mom’s jaw, I could tell things weren’t good.
“Apparently, Nicole injured herself while she was filming Moulin Rouge!,” the assistant director continued. “And yesterday she aggravated that same injury. It’s a hairline fracture, meaning she needs to be off her feet.”
“What happens now?” Mom asked.
“We’re trying to decide whether to stop filming and wait for her or hire someone else. It’s up to the studio now, with Nicole’s blessing.”
Mom hung up the phone and told me everything. My heart was crushed.
The waiting game began the next morning and continued for a few tense days.
Soon, the studio announced it was looking for other actors to replace Nicole, but they weren’t optimistic.
All the big leading ladies were tied up in other projects, although there was a possibility that Angelina Jolie might be free.
I thought it would be amazing if two girls from Snedens Landing ended up in the same film.
Maybe they could even replace Dwight Yoakam with Bill Murray (in the role of one of the three home invaders) so we could have a proper Rockland County reunion.
Mom and I flew home so I could go back to school, but we understood I might have to return at a moment’s notice.
I was uneasy every morning when I woke up.
Like most children, I liked a solid routine, and not knowing which coast I’d be on the next day was disconcerting.
I also knew this role was a gift, and I was chomping at the bit to play it.
It really felt like my entire future hinged on this film.
Then we got the call. Jodie Foster would be replacing Nicole Kidman in the part of Meg.
I was overjoyed—even as happy as I’d been about Nicole Kidman.
Jodie Foster was one of my favorite actors, and I could relate to her because she’d been working since she was a kid, just like me.
People had said we looked like each other because both of us were small and strong.
She brought a quiet force that balanced out my ability to convey big, hard emotions.
I told myself it was a great match, and I couldn’t wait to play her daughter.
Mom and I were supposed to fly back to Los Angeles as soon as possible so we could start filming. I was ready, more than ready. But the next morning, Mom woke me up with some news.
“Honey, I have something to tell you about the movie. The producers want to move on to someone else. They’re just not sure you look enough like Jodie Foster.”
I was speechless. I did look like Jodie Foster. Not just that, but I’d earned this part. How could anyone take that away from me?
“They’re going with an actor named Kristen Stewart. I’m so sorry.”
In later years, some media reported that I dropped out of the film before Nicole did—and even before filming began.
It was the other way around. Once Nicole was gone, I was out, too.
I never got an explanation as to why, and at the time, I accepted it, even though I was incredibly sad.
I told myself that parts are like trains, and there will always be another one coming down the tracks.
I tried to convince myself that this was meant to be—even though it tore me up.
Years later, my former manager told me the real reason why I was dropped from the film. The director spoke to Mom about cutting my hair so I would look more like Jodie Foster, who’s always rocked a great bob. Mom said no. It was a deal-breaker.
Panic Room went on to gross $197 million worldwide.