If you have one of the “Friends & Family” drafts of “The Halferne Perfidy,” you’ll notice know it’s riddled with 90-something footnotes that serve as sort of my “director’s commentary track.” They flag things I’m unsure about, backstory I cut for pacing, and the occasional pat on the back like, “Yes, this is a theme, please clap.” One early note describes Marte Ness as “Columbo or Jim Rockford if played by Bea Arthur.” What I meant was “Tyne Daly, circa the ’94 ‘Cagney & Lacey’ reunion,” but I thought that might be a bit too “Gen X” for my younger alpha-readers. People now swear they can only picture Bea now and refuse to accept anything else. Delightful for them. Unhelpful for me.

Naturally, that kicked off the inevitable debate: “Who’s in the movie?” To be clear, should such a movie happen, I will have nothing to do with it. I’m still recovering from what Hollywood did to William Gibson’s “Johnny Mnemonic.” Nevertheless, it gave me a topic to blog on today, so here’s the format for this little thought exercise.

  • Who I pictured while writing
  • Who I’d cast now (dream world; good coffee; sane producers; magic telephone that makes laywers say “Yes!”)
  • Who Hollywood would miscast (because, algorithms and Gen Z)

Get it? Short, punchy, and easy. Here we go …

Sean Clay

Middle-aged covert operator on a nonsensical mission to a chaos-driven world.

  • In my head: Late-’70s/early-’80s Robert Mitchum (“The Big Sleep,” “Nightkill”). Basically, older guy, weary, mumbly, not classically sexy, but could still detach your head like taking the lid of a jar.
  • Cast now: Gary Oldman. He’s the closest thing our generation has to “Mitchum energy.”
  • Hollywood miscast: Tom Cruise. They’ll read “60s,” think “Hey, so is Tom,” and call it an apology for miscasting him in two Reacher movies.

Marte Ness

Private investigator; Clay’s handler and informant; smarter than your favorite detective and twice as stubborn.

  • In my head: Tyne Daly, “Cagney & Lacey” reunion era. Tough, warm, zero nonsense.
  • Cast now: Angela Bassett. I never specified anyone’s ethnicity in the text, I’d like a diverse cast, and Bassett has always been a favorite of mine.
  • Hollywood miscast: Helen Mirren, also a favorite, but cast here only because any brief containing “older, brilliant, tough” seems to auto-route to her agent or something.

Sylvester Locke

Wealthy industrialist and political kingmaker; appears briefly, haunts constantly.

  • In my head: George Takei from that “Blow’d Up” parody Inexplicably, I pictured him in a black Mao jacket with a hip ponytail.
  • Cast now: Small part, so get someone we love and will have instant sympathy for … William Sanderson, natch.
  • Hollywood miscast: Pedro Pascal. He’s already on the lot, so, why not!?

Ursza Venter

Strung-out, drug addicted assassin for hire; lethal stillness, regrets with edges, secrets behind dead gray eyes.

  • In my head: It was always Léa Seydoux’s first appearance in “Ghost Protocol:” cold, unreadable, dangerous.
  • Cast now: A complete unknown. Ursza becomes a franchise pillar with depth later. We need youth and range, not baggage.
  • Hollywood miscast: Margot Robbie, because someone heard “Hitchcock blonde with martial arts skills” and wanted to inject more humor in the drug addict and human-trafficking scenes.

Vivaine

A Yorohito engineered to seduce targets and steal their secrets on contract.

  • In my head: Ana de Armas.
  • Cast now: Ana de Armas. Sometimes the obvious choice is, in fact, obvious.
  • Hollywood miscast: Zendaya, because brand synergy is stronger than genre.

Sem Talbot

An unethical chemist who desperately wants to be loved and weaponizes addiction to get it.

  • In my head, Anthony Perkins in “Psycho.” You can actually hear it in his dialogue at times.
  • Cast now: Cory Michael Smith (early “Gotham” Riddler flavor).
  • Hollywood miscast: Andrew Garfield, because they heard “Anthony Perkins-type” and wrote “call that awkward twink with a heart of gold.”

Prudence

Yorohito and right hand to Markus Klein; the polite smile before the cliff.

  • In my head: No one specific. She was a late addition and terrified me into writing all her bits in one afternoon.
  • Cast now: Someone unattainably exotic-looking but girl-next-door enough that you’d follow her up a booby-trapped mountain during a blizzard. Short list: Genneya Walton.
  • Hollywood miscast: Ana de Armas.

Markus Klein

Charismatic cult leader, mafia don, adjunct professor of menace.

  • In my head: Honestly, he’s pretty much based on Brian Blessed in the Blake’s 7 episode “Cygnus Alpha,” but toned down to a 7.5 on the Brian-o-meter.
  • Cast now: Brian Cox. My second favorite Brian, and also creepy/menacing when asked.
  • Hollywood miscast: The Rock. Box office says, “Yes!” Script says, “Why?”

Ren Sato

A walking phonebook and message bus for an entire city; creepy, helpful, or both.

  • In my head: A collage of memorably creepy henchmen, captained by Brad Dourif.
  • Cast now: Anthony Carrigan. He plays that knife-edge between endearing and alarming really well.
  • Hollywood miscast: Chris Rock. They won’t get Ren’s odd cadence but will think it might sound cool in Chris’ voice.

Yogananda Rinpoche

Abbot of a Buddhist temple in the worst neighborhood on the worst day.

  • In my head: Paramahansa Yogananda himself (make of that what you will).
  • Cast now: Since he’s possibly a reincarnation, he could be anyone. Let’s go with my favorite character actor, James Hong. He can do wisdom, gravity, and humor. Actually, I’ve seen him do just about everything, and I bought into it every time.
  • Hollywood miscast: Idris Elba, because when in doubt, cast some sexy charisma for your Buddhist Yoga Monk.

Abil Halferne

Mysterious advisor to the chancellor; plays five-dimensional chess with human lives.

  • In my head: Sylvester McCoy. It’s always been Sylvester. The part has serious Seventh Doctor vibes, only without the compassion and “never be cruel” credo.
  • Cast now: Still Sylvester McCoy. I wrote myself into a mental image corner with this one to the point I had to kill him in the next book to escape from it.
  • Hollywood miscast: Morgan Freeman. Narration sold separately.

Fatima Omari

Co-leader of the planet’s largest criminal syndicate. Thinks she’s the smart one, and probably is.

  • In my head: No one in particular. A silhouette behind a desk that you reflexively salute because she scares you.
  • Cast now: Noureen DeWulf, because, wouldn’t you if you had the pen?
  • Hollywood miscast: Shohreh Aghdashloo, because apparently there’s one-click casting for “formidable Middle Eastern woman.” Not faulting the decision, just the predictability of it.

Tarek Saleh

Former schoolteacher turned terrorist/freedom fighter; the least likely radical in any room.

  • In my head: Somewhere between Damian Lewis and early Ron Howard. Gentle face, granite resolve, mop of red hair.
  • Cast now: Taron Egerton. He’s got that “earnest guy who surprises you” gear.
  • Hollywood miscast: Matthew McConaughey, to court sophisticated ticket-buyers and perfume advertisers.

Oron Prevo

Space Hitler. Evil as heck, not interesting in this story, but I’m not done with him, yet.

  • In my head: David Warner is my first go-to for all bad guys until I find their individual voice.
  • Cast now: Ben Kingsley, because I love the way he can make a bad guy scary and interesting.
  • Hollywood miscast: Mark Strong, because someone heard “bald bad guy” and stopped listening at “Ben…”

For me, characters are like mood boards of faces, voices, clothing, and little silly mannerisms like the way they adjust their sleeves before exiting a room. Casting them, even if just in my head, clarifies how they talk, what they fear, when they smile, and what type of smile it is. This exercise also reveals the gap between artistic vision and marketing. My version trends toward “Who can I see in the part?” Hollywood inevitably trends toward “Who can we get to give a cool one-liner in the first trailer?”