The Best Movie Actor In Hollywood!

Chapter 97

It was still dark at two in the morning when Matthew arrived at Pinewood Studios and settled into a makeup trailer to begin the lengthy application of his makeup. Fortunately, his experience on Gladiator had prepared him for this, and he remained motionless while the makeup artist worked, holding his script.

The script had been with him ever since he boarded the flight to London, and Matthew pulled it out to read whenever he had a spare moment.

From his research and conversations with Helen Herman, he knew Stephen Sommers was a rather stubborn man. When working under a director like that, it was best to follow the script to the letter.

He also wore a small earpiece, always ready to listen to his lines in Ancient Egyptian.

The Scorpion King didn't have many lines in the film, but they were all in Ancient Egyptian. After his audition, the crew hadn't told him to prepare in advance; instead, they simply handed him a cassette tape and told him to master its contents as soon as he arrived in London.

The tape contained only five sentences, all of them short. Although Matthew memorized them quickly, he was a little concerned about his pronunciation and accent, so he would periodically replay the tape to listen again.

The makeup alone took nearly three hours, and by the time Matthew had changed into his costume, it was already 7:30 a.m.

Outside the makeup trailer, daylight had broken. Matthew was hungry, and there was still a while to go before filming began.

"If you want," said the makeup artist, temporarily setting the wig on Matthew's head with the help of her assistant, "you can go get some breakfast. The makeup application is done."

She glanced at her watch. "The crew will be starting soon, so I think the assistant assigned to you should be here any minute."Matthew asked, "Sasha, is the assistant a man or a woman?"

The makeup artist smiled. "I don't know. The production hired a lot of young men and women from both the UK and the US before shooting started."

She gestured to Matthew. "Stand up."

Matthew stood, and Sasha, along with her assistant, applied a special cosmetic oil to his bare torso and legs below his armored battle skirt.

Once the oil was applied, Sasha circled Matthew a couple of times and declared, "Alright, that's it."

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, and Matthew called out casually, "Come in."

A young woman who looked to be in her early twenties entered. She was dressed in a white T-shirt and jeans, with a rather plain face framed by short black hair.

The young woman walked right up to Matthew and introduced herself. "Hello, Mr. Horner. I'm Mira, your on-set assistant for the duration of the shoot."

Matthew looked at her and asked the question that was currently most important to him: "Do you know where the crew's food truck is?"

"Do you need me to get you some breakfast?" The young woman, Mira, clearly understood her duties as an assistant. "What would you like?"

Sasha, the makeup artist, chimed in at that point. "Bread or something light would be best, and only a small amount."

She reminded Matthew, "You can't smudge the makeup on your face."

Matthew, of course, knew he couldn't mess up his makeup. He turned to Mira and said, "Some bread, please."

He asked the two makeup artists, "Would either of you like anything to eat?"

"Thank you, but we still have work to do." Sasha went to the sink, turned on the faucet, and began to wash her hands.

Mira left first, followed out of the makeup trailer by Sasha and her assistant.

Matthew sat back down in his chair and had waited less than five minutes before Mira slipped back inside, carrying a selection of bread.

He was carefully eating his bread when a crew member approached and told him it was time to head to the studio.

Matthew picked up his weapon and shield and left the makeup trailer.

...

Inside the studio, the floor was covered in yellow sand, surrounded on all sides by a vibrant green screen, with openings only for the camera positions.

In addition to the sand, the enormous set was filled with hundreds of extras who, like Matthew, were bare-chested and armed with weapons.

All these men were to serve as the background.

The assistant director led Matthew onto the set and positioned him at the front of the extras.

Director Sommers finished checking the cameras and walked onto the set. When he saw Matthew, he frowned, a hint of displeasure rising within him, but then he paused to take a closer look.

"He seems to be in better shape than he was at the audition?"

Sommers confirmed it for himself, and it immediately occurred to him that this actor must have undergone significant training since the audition.

This caused the displeasure in his mind to subside a little.

At least in terms of his physique, the young man looked like he had done his homework.

Sommers walked out in front of all the actors and waved Matthew over. "Come here!"

Without a word, Matthew hurried over to Sommers.

Sommers was the director, after all. He quickly suppressed his personal feelings, putting the work first. "You'll stand on the rock in front of them," he instructed, "lead them into the attack, and just do what it says in the script."

Matthew replied, "Yes."

Sommers gave him another once-over. "Don't forget to use Ancient Egyptian."

Again, without hesitation, Matthew answered, "Yes!"

Sommers led his assistant aside, leaving Matthew alone to find his position among the extras.

Shield in his left hand and sword in his right, Matthew walked to a rock at the head of the "army." He glanced at the green screen, then turned to look behind him, where Sommers was thoroughly engrossed in his work.

He was undoubtedly a dedicated director. From their brief exchange, Matthew could tell that Sommers still wasn't fond of him, but he was managing to suppress those feelings and prioritize the work.

After all, Matthew had already signed his contract with the production, and short of some major upheaval, there was nothing that could be done to change that fact.

Matthew then turned his focus back to the script, running through it in his mind and muttering the strangely pronounced Ancient Egyptian lines to himself, putting Sommers out of his thoughts for the moment.

He was determined to avoid any trouble with Stephen Sommers. Before even arriving in London, he had resolved to be dedicated, patient, and humble, and to maintain good relationships with everyone on set. It would be best if he could improve things with Sommers, but at the very least, he wanted to avoid seeing that cold expression on the director's face.

Once the extras' positions were finalized, filming began.

"Aaaaaah!!!"

The set echoed with the powerful shouts of men as Matthew stood at the forefront, an oddly shaped Scorpion Bracelet on his right arm, his sword raised high as he roared.

He was physically powerful, with enough lung capacity that his voice could be clearly distinguished even among the cries of hundreds of others.

"Aaaaaah!" Matthew continued to roar. After nearly two months of dedicated training, his body was like Michelangelo's David, perfectly sculpted, but his brave and fearless expression was worth more than a thousand statues.

Matthew had already played a similar tough-leader role twice before, so he had plenty of experience and had rehearsed this countless times during his preparation.

Off to the side of the set, a man and a woman entered through a door, both dressed in the style of the 1930s and 40s.

"Brendan, is that the Scorpion King?" Rachel Weisz, the film's female lead, asked Brendan Fraser, the male lead standing beside her. He nodded. "Yep."

They both spoke quietly because the crew was filming a scene.

Rachel stared intently at the set. "He fits the part."

"Yeah." Brendan glanced down at his own slightly out-of-shape body and grinned. "Damn, I'm jealous now."

"Aaaaaah!" Matthew yelled again, raising his sword.

His expression turned grim, and he roared out several lines in Ancient Egyptian.

The soldiers, played by the extras behind him, roared and charged forward. Matthew kept pace, his long strides carrying him at the head of the pack.

"Cut!" Stephen Sommers yelled, halting the shoot. The crew immediately stopped, but Sommers didn't call it a wrap. Instead, he hit the playback button on his monitor to review the take.

His attention, of course, was focused on the Scorpion King.

Shouting—no issues. Physique—no issues. Expression and emotion—no issues. Costumes and props—no issues. Matthew Horner's performance—still no issues.

On a scale of one to a hundred, this scene would score an eighty.

That was more than enough for a commercial entertainment film.

Sommers hit the pause button, and the image froze on a close-up of Matthew.

True, he wasn't as massive as Johnson, but he possessed an indefinable warrior quality that was plain to see. If Johnson was merely an extremely strong man, then Matthew Horner, through the camera lens, looked as if Ares, the bloodthirsty Greek god of war, had descended upon the set.

"Print it!"

He couldn't find a single reason why this take wasn't good enough.