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It's time for me to do filming for Apollo 13 as the daughter Barbara Lovell. I think my agent is happy that I am working in films after what I have asked him to do for me business-wise. But I will ensure that it is worthy for him, and he will get a good commission.
The Halloween scene: Barbara wants to go trick-or-treating dressed as a hippie. Her mother Marilyn (Kathleen Quinlan) tells her she cannot, and Barbara protests that she does not want to go as her mother's "squeaky-clean" image of a girl.
The Beatles breakup: Barbara is visibly upset when she hears news about the Beatles breaking up, reflecting the cultural backdrop of 1970.
"They're not stupid, you're stupid!" During a family argument about whether to watch her father's broadcast, Barbara defends the broadcast and snaps at one of her siblings.
"Are you scared?" In a quieter moment, Barbara asks her father if he is scared about the mission. This scene adds emotional depth and shows the family tension behind the historic flight.
The first morning, Rose slipped into her polyester bell-bottoms and love-bead necklace, then waited outside her trailer with a mug of tea, watching the art department reassemble the Lovell kitchen for the day's shoot. She'd already memorized the blueprints of the set, even the placement of the avocado-green rotary phone—the phones would become a lifeline in the story, and Ron Howard had said, half-joking, "That's your prop. Own it."
She found herself next to Kathleen Quinlan, who offered a conspiratorial smile and ad-libbed, "Ready to be a terrible mother to you?" They both laughed, but Rose could sense the weight behind it: Quinlan's Marilyn Lovell was no sitcom mom. Ron Howard arrived, brisk and affable, and called the ensemble together. "Let's get the Halloween scene in the can before lunch."
On action, Rose let herself lurch through the lines she'd practiced, but now the tension was real: her voice sullen, her disappointment raw when her mother refused the hippie costume. She heard her own mother's voice in her head, the clipped accent, the insistence on decorum. Kathleen met her heat for heat, and the argument felt so lived-in that, when Ron called cut, the camera crew applauded. Ron's notes were precise. "More under. Let the anger skate on the surface, but show us the worry underneath. This is a family that's always bracing for the next shoe to drop."
The next setup was the Beatles breakup scene. Between takes, Tom Hanks slouched onto the set with a paperback and a can of Coke. He watched the playback on the director's monitor, then sidled up to Rose. "You ever actually listen to 'Let It Be'?" he asked. She nodded. "It's about letting go," he said, "but nobody in this movie can." Rose took the cue. On the next take, she let her bottom lip tremble, eyes fixed on the carpet while the news played in the background, her grief for the Beatles morphing into fear for her father.
The sibling fight was a blur—her line, "They're not stupid, you're stupid!" came out with a venom that surprised her. The prop apple she hurled at the table bounced off and rolled toward the gaffer. The crew laughed, but Ron kept the take. "That's the take," he said. "Print it."
Between scenes, Rose and her cast siblings passed around copies of Tiger Beat, giggling over the quizzes. Kathleen Quinlan, ever maternal, brought homemade banana bread. In the quiet before the final scene, Tom Hanks pulled Rose aside. "You know, the real Barbara watched her dad fly into space on a black-and-white TV in a rec room just like this. They had no idea what would happen. That's your job here: don't play the fear, just be the kid left behind."
For the last shot, Rose asked, "Are you scared?" and Tom paused so long she thought he'd forgotten his line. Then, with a twist of his mouth, he answered, "Not when I see you." The set was silent. Even the grips stopped moving. Ron Howard finally called, "Cut," his voice thick, and the moment hung in the air like the smoke from a spent rocket.
That night, in her hotel room, Rose watched the dailies and saw herself not as Hedy Lamarr's granddaughter or Laurence Olivier's legacy, but as a scared, stubborn girl clinging to her father's ghost. She closed her eyes and let the loneliness settle. For the first time, she felt like an actress.