Many times he yellowed his words so that nothing would affect him. But what could he do? Billy took a breath; he had just finished his second meeting, and in it, he found a second failure. As much as it hurt him to deny it, he was on a bad streak, buried in paperwork that amounted to nothing.
—No one can refuse. —Billy replied, as a paper reached him that he wanted more than anything, because for three months now he had been edging closer to a real answer.
—Well, you have a multinational role that fits you effortlessly, and it's because people see in you a handsome young man who's about to save the day. Sometimes they see that melancholic boy who does good work, but unfortunately, your image is that of an attractive man. —Jim Wait replied. He knew well that there were only two simple points: first, the man standing before him was competitive and tended to turn even the smallest gestures into greater demands on himself.
—I can't take two films so lightly. Both require a lot of work. —Billy commented.
—Then take it. —Jim replied.
—The roles are waiting for you; in fact, they want you for this part. They want a big project, but they know that if you're the vehicle of the performance, everyone will give it the green light. —Jim replied.
—They pay well? —he asked.
—Very well. Your two arthouse roles paid less than a million dollars. You chose the minimum; this one pays ten million, and the director asked for you, unlike at the end of that love affair. This isn't a rumor that reached you. —Jim replied, knowing firsthand that above all else, beyond a great performance, what the director wanted was someone who embodied exactly what he had in mind—and that meant spectacle, a show that could sell to everyone. When that happens, nothing more is needed than a recognizable face, and you are everything they're asking for over the next few years.
—A young man who turns simplicity into magic. Women line up to see your films, and you're the face of the highest-grossing movie so far. You're known, and people are drawn to seeing you. That's why they want you for the role; we're already seeing the sands calling for you. Cairo could be the solution to another great adventure. —Jim replied.
Billy nodded, now taking in a new stack of papers. It was time to set things in motion—a role he wished he could bypass, yet it seemed he was, for now, a man shaped by roles from that inspiring commercial side, one that increasingly drew people in. To begin with, he was already in two of the biggest series he knew, and producers were lining up for a third, not counting Harry Potter, which was a children's series. Meanwhile, The Lord of the Rings was blossoming and seeking many other roles that might serve him.
—I'll take it, but I'll do what I can. Even if I wanted to refuse, the role is mine. —Billy commented, aware of the baggage and the acting approach required: he had to be part of every take, and when those takes came to life, they would call again, because they always did. But they had given him roles he didn't like, and those roles, ironically, were the ones people tended to see—out of sheer simplicity.
Billy took the script and realized that now it would be a matter of seeing whether the directors would truly stand by him. A position he would hold. He could say it and do it as much as he wanted; he only hoped that the films that truly mattered to him would be within reach—those that were part of the breeze that turns the mills of Hollywood, from angles or near-opposites where Billy now looked with kinder eyes at roles he had once scorned but accepted, and those he cherished yet needed, but which never came his way.
—They want to see you tomorrow—or tomorrow. —Jim replied.
—I can do it. I want to do it tomorrow morning. —Billy said.
***
In 1992, when it happened, James Jacks began the project with the simple idea of making The Mummy; however, Universal was not a company inclined to sell a film with such high risk. They wanted a low-budget horror movie where nothing would be left hanging, and so it was done. Jack hired Clive Barker for a horror film that was, at the very least, violent, with a story revolving around the head of a museum.
What Jacks wanted, and what that desire earned him, was the chance to make a somewhat broader film. However, it was only now that Stephen Sommers came under the command of James Jacks and Sean Daniel, who were part of that representation. A project that began in 1997 with the vision of The Mummy as a kind of Indiana Jones, with the mummy as the creature competing against the hero.
—I think the idea is fantastic. —Billy whispered. —The idea of a mummy, that fantastic element, is what fills the story with substance. The idea of Rick O'Connell as the adventurer, who seems to live a life of danger, and is the survivor of the film. Win the girl and save the world. —
—So that's how you see your role. —Stephen asked.
Before anything else, Rick O'Connell was first considered for Tom Cruise, due to his excellent performance in Mission: Impossible, which earned him a reputation as an action star. A small note was sent to Daniel Day-Lewis, which was completely rejected.
The role was sent to Matt Damon, whom Stephen Sommers liked for his recent parts—modest beginnings that matched what the director wanted. And now Billy, whom they saw more as a pretty face, a man who represented duality over brute force, a different Rick O'Connell—one woman would enjoy watching, a face devoted to drama.
—He looks particularly good in the costume. —Jack Sack commented, observing the young man's charm, one that seemed to lend the role a sensitive quality. They needed someone lighter throughout the film to keep it from feeling too serious; otherwise, the audience wouldn't be able to enjoy the hero's journey.
Billy read a few lines and did his best to leave nothing unresolved. He did what came naturally to him, to give that suspenseful, fresh, and calm vibe. He read the script and took note of the faces; the competition was shifting, and he was beginning to see where people's specializations lay.
...