The Best Movie Actor In Hollywood!

Chapter 387

After entering the screening room, Matthew found his seat. He had just settled in when Depp, sitting beside him, leaned over and whispered, "Everything alright?"

Matthew nodded.

As far as he could tell, everything really should be fine, but only Harvey knew what was truly going on in his own mind.

Keira also leaned in, her voice laced with concern. "Harvey didn't ask you to his hotel room to... talk, did he?"

Matthew gave her a look as if she'd asked a silly question. "No," he replied.

Depp chimed in, "You didn't have a confrontation with him, right?"

Matthew shook his head. "I'm an honest, upstanding guy. Why would I ever get into a confrontation with anyone?"

Keira rolled her eyes.

Matthew gestured toward the screen. "The film's starting."

Regardless, this was a Gore Verbinski film, and Matthew was determined to watch it seriously. He needed to understand the director's style to make their upcoming work together go more smoothly.Moreover, the film starred an actor Matthew admired—Nicolas Cage.

Unfortunately, having just been cornered by Harvey, he hadn't had a chance to exchange a few words with Cage. Still, Matthew knew that the actor wasn't in a good place professionally. After the failure of John Woo's Windtalkers, his luck had soured, and his last few films had performed poorly, both at the box office and with critics.

And without National Treasure to his name, his situation was even more dire.

He had always loved Nicolas Cage's movies, and in many ways, he still did. But that admiration was for the films and the characters, and it had nothing to do with the professional rivalry over roles.

The movie began, and Matthew watched intently from the opening titles to the final credits. Perhaps it was because he simply wasn't interested in this genre, but he felt that Gore Verbinski's new film didn't even compare to his earlier work, the American version of The Ring.

He suspected that if most of the audience shared his opinion, Nicolas Cage was headed for another box office disaster.

Of course, Matthew knew his opinion might not be entirely accurate. He lacked a deep understanding of the particularly American midlife crisis the film was exploring.

This film, The Weather Man, was an echo of American Beauty from a few years prior—another story about the midlife crisis of the American urban middle class.

Matthew was an adult, but he was far from middle-aged, and he was experiencing neither a financial crisis nor a midlife one.

He wasn't middle-aged or middle-class, nor was he deeply versed in the nuances of American culture, which made it difficult for him to connect with the film.

The film was an hour and thirty-four minutes long, and for the entire runtime, it felt as though someone was droning on about the proper way to putt on a golf green or the pedigree of a racehorse—all building to nothing.

Matthew lacked a film critic's ability to simultaneously dissect various cultures, nationalities, and social classes with profound insight. As a result, the film simply failed to resonate with him on a personal level.

He didn't really know what a midlife crisis entailed and couldn't grasp the film's mood. As far as Matthew was concerned, a midlife crisis just meant drinking too much and being grumpy.

Matthew couldn't understand why Gore Verbinski had chosen to make this film. Perhaps the director had some artistic statement to make that he, as an actor, just couldn't grasp.

And what about Nicolas Cage? How many moviegoers would pay to see a film about a midlife crisis? Was it possible that Cage, perhaps going through his own crisis, had chosen the script because it resonated with him?

A film this dull was likely to send an actor whose career was already in decline into an even steeper nosedive.

The outcome was just as Matthew had predicted: The Weather Man grossed a mere $10 million in its first week in North America, and the word-of-mouth was terrible.

For Gore Verbinski, who had the Pirates of the Caribbean trilogy under his belt, a flop on a relatively small production like this was no great disaster. But for Nicolas Cage, it was another story. His star was fading, and this would only accelerate its fall.

After receiving countless accolades, the superstar now found himself on the brink of a fall from grace.

After the opening weekend of The Weather Man, Matthew, along with director Gore Verbinski, returned to work on Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End.

Meanwhile, a steady stream of news related to his own career reached him through Helen and Bella Anderson.

In November, David Ellison's company, Skydance Pictures, officially signed a distribution deal with Warner Bros. The studio would handle the North American and international release of 300, taking full responsibility for the film's promotion and distribution.

The official signing of the distribution deal also meant that Harvey Weinstein's quest to acquire the rights for 300 had ended in complete failure.

According to Helen, a Warner Bros. executive had a contentious history with Harvey. At one party, the executive had given Harvey a stern warning, which led to Harvey repeatedly and publicly denouncing Warner Bros.

It was only then that Matthew realized Harvey had wanted the distribution rights for 300 not just because he was optimistic about the film's prospects, but specifically because Warner Bros. also wanted the project.

In other words, to a certain degree, Harvey had been targeting Warner Bros. all along.

The roots of the feud went back to The Lord of the Rings trilogy. It had been produced and distributed by New Line Cinema, a Warner Bros. subsidiary, but the Weinstein brothers had previously owned a portion of the rights. This led to a conflict over what they saw as an unequal division of the spoils.

Harvey had repeatedly and openly attacked Warner Bros. in newspapers, magazines, and television interviews.

This time, Harvey had gone head-to-head with Warner Bros. over the distribution rights, and while he ultimately lost, he had still managed to cause them a great deal of trouble.

The six major Hollywood studios were all part of larger media conglomerates, but for the most part, they operated with independent bookkeeping. Unless it was a matter of significant scale, the parent company rarely interfered in the day-to-day operations of its subsidiaries.

They certainly wouldn't unleash the full might of the conglomerate to fight Harvey over something so trivial.

When Helen explained all this, Matthew's first thought was that it had nothing to do with him. But she reminded him gravely that Harvey operated like a D.C. politician: if you weren't on his side, you were against him.

She then told Matthew a story about a famous Hollywood actress at the Venice Film Festival. While sharing an elevator with Harvey, he began harassing her. She rebuked him, but he didn't stop. When the elevator reached his floor, he pushed her out and tried to drag her by the arm toward his room. It would have ended with a predictable, ugly outcome if the actress hadn't fought back fiercely and managed to escape.

A man who would dare to harass people with connections as deep as Gwyneth Paltrow and Angelina Jolie was as domineering as one could possibly imagine.

Matthew took Helen's warning to heart. He was well aware that Hollywood was a small world, and it was impossible to avoid Harvey forever. For now, the producer didn't seem intent on targeting him, but there was no guarantee things would stay that way, especially if 300 became a massive success.

The most important thing for him was to keep building his public profile. Superstars on the level of Tom Cruise or Tom Hanks were untouchable, even for a predator like Harvey.

Perhaps Harvey would do nothing. But a person's intentions were the hardest thing to gauge.

The power dynamic was immutable: producers were naturally above actors. And Harvey's influence within the Producers Guild of America was immense. He didn't even need to do anything overt. When an actor was competing for a crucial role, if there was anyone important on the production who knew Harvey, a single phone call could change everything.

Just as the actors' guild would always stand against the Producers Guild of America, producers tended to stick together.

On the other hand, there was also good news. Helen had finalized Matthew's contract with David Ellison's Skydance Pictures for 300.

It was an exceptionally lucrative deal.

The contract stipulated that from the moment filming on Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End concluded—which would mark the official start of his work on 300—the production would provide Matthew with a full-time driver, two bodyguards, and a trailer. Furthermore, the production would be fully responsible for the salaries of his entire entourage, including his stylists, costume designers, and personal assistants, for the duration of the shoot.

His name in the on-screen credits and in the paid billing had to be the same size as the film's title and appear before any other leading actors. On the poster, his name could be no smaller than thirty percent of the title's font size, and it had to be larger than the names of any other actors, as well as the distributor's logo and the release date.

Matthew also had the right to approve or decline participation in any promotional activities, including media interviews. If he agreed to a specific interview, his schedule was to be given priority. For any other appearances or interviews, the production was required to give him or Helen forty-eight hours' notice.