One of my favorite rituals whenever I release a “stable draft” into the wild (which is writer-speak for “I’ve stared at this long enough to pretend it’s finished”) is the inevitable Messed-Up Casting exercise. If you’ve missed the previous installments, here’s the premise: I imagine some Hollywood wunderkind with a trust fund stumbles across this blog, falls in love with The Halferne Expedition, throws an irresponsible amount of money at me for the rights, and—against all known laws of the universe—gets it greenlit.

From there, I picture three versions of the movie:

  • Who I saw in my head while writing
  • Who I’d cast now
  • Who Hollywood would absolutely, spectacularly miscast

Because sometimes you get Michael Keaton as Batman… and sometimes you get Tom Cruise as Jack Reacher. Spin the wheel, baby.

Jaysn Katsaros

Xenoanthropologist, wine enthusiast, aspiring scoundrel, part-time ladies’ man (results may vary)

  • In my head: Spoiler alert: there are two Jaysns. While he eventually becomes the Porthos duVallon of the Perichore, this is proto-Jaysn — nerdy, arrogant, slightly insufferable academic who thinks he’s charming. I basically reverse-engineered him from Jeff Goldblum as Ian Malcolm in Jurassic Park, just remove the stammer, keep the vibe, and absolutely keep the leather jacket.
  • Cast now: Jacob Elordi. He’s got a certain “leading man, but could also be a nerd” thing. Of course, if he gets cast as Bond next week, I will pretend I called it and quietly ignore this post.
  • Hollywood miscast: Timothée Chalamet, because half the audience will swoon and the other half will actively root for his death by Act 2.

Lars Wolff

Head of the LT-9 habitat. Engineer first, soldier second. Secret control freak. No patience for science types who make tactical decisions.

  • In my head: David Morse. He was always the militaresque guy who listened to reason and didn’t make waves. The guy you trust when everything goes sideways… maybe.
  • Cast now: Stanley Tucci. He can steal the lead, or he can be subtle and be the most interesting sidekick.
  • Hollywood miscast: Gerard Butler, because Hollywood doesn’t get subtlety.

Disha Tamana

Expedition leader. Exobiologist. Brilliant. Driven. So prideful she’d deny it under oath.

  • In my head: Yes, I know she’s not South Asian, but the character is absolutely Frances Sternhagen: the one person in the room who could shut down Jeff Goldblum mid-sentence and make him thank her for it.
  • Cast now: Neena Gupta. She has the presence, the look, and the range to play Tamana at multiple stages of her life without breaking a sweat.
  • Hollywood miscast: Shohreh Aghdashloo. Not because she wouldn’t be great—she would—but because Hollywood has a one-click button labeled “formidable woman somewhere between 40° and 80° east longitude.”

Anita Solvig

Quiet. Controlled. Intellectually dangerous. Low-key terrifying in a “she already solved the problem and didn’t tell you” way.

  • In my head: The name Solvig was intended to imply Nordic, which implied insane blue eyes to me for some reason. So … Meg Foster, circa 1979.
  • Cast now: Anya Taylor-Joy. Same unsettling gaze, plus the ability to make silence creepy.
  • Hollywood miscast: Jennifer Lawrence. Because I explicitly described one character in the story as blonde and accidentally triggered a studio executive’s “marketable” reflex.

Umar Amin

Geologist. Competent, but only in very specific circumstances. Outside those circumstances, he’s chaos, confusion, and mild panic.

  • In my head: No single actor, but there’s a lot of young Forest Whitaker in there. You know that intelligent, overwhelmed, but will get it if you give him time, thing.
  • Cast now: Anthony Anderson. I’m not sure if he’s right, but I think he’d be fun to watch. I just like that guy.
  • Hollywood miscast: Kevin Hart, because every movie now requires “a Kevin Hart type,” even existential sci-fi.

Cari Clarc

Action-oriented scientist trapped in a movie that would really rather talk about philosophy.

  • In my head: Ruby Rose. Fun story, but in the early drafts, the party stayed together, and Clarc didn’t lead half the team for half the book. I just realized halfway through writing Act 2 that neither Clarc nor Ruby Rose would tolerate standing around while everyone else debated meaning. So, she hijacked the story and fixed it for me. Respect.
  • Cast now: Ruby Rose. Don’t mess with a good thing. Also, I want to see her argue with the director.
  • Hollywood miscast: Kristen Stewart, because Hollywood loves putting people into roles they’ve already played, just slightly to the left.

Lev Novik

The SI with a conscience. Philosophical. Aspirational. Occasionally forced to live up to his own quotes.

  • In my head: Mostly a voice and a presence, but when human, he needs gravitas. I heard either Maximilian Schell or Max von Sydow in my head—calm, ancient, slightly terrifying wisdom.
  • Cast now: Anthony Hopkins. The idea being that you’d absolutely choose his voice for your AI and only later realize who it is. Just to delay the reveal, though, he’ll have to play it with a Slovenian accent. I’m sure he can learn.
  • Hollywood miscast: Ian McKellen, and the audience immediately starts whispering “You shall not pass” the moment he appears in the cave, and completely derails the scene.

That’s it. That the weird pipe dream made out of my personal influences, the more plausible contemporary version assuming unlimited budget and patience, and an inevitable, predictable version where some Hollywood mogul says, “Make it more ‘Marvel Movie’” and the glorious mess implodes onto the tabloids and YouTube fan outrage. Honestly, I’d probably watch all three, and I hate remakes.