Back in Los Angeles, not much had changed in Matthew’s life. Aside from the occasional paparazzi tail, things were business as usual. And the paparazzi weren’t exactly chasing him; there were simply too many people in Los Angeles who were more interesting and entertaining than he was, so most of them would just snap a few pictures and leave.
Since he was still practicing his reading and writing, he bought a stack of major newspapers and tabloids every day and rarely saw himself in them, save for a few limited ntions. In contrast, pictures and posters of the Scorpion King appeared much more frequently.
It seed the dia hadn't quite connected the Scorpion King with an ordinary actor like him yet.
Matthew knew he couldn't rush things. It was the height of the sumr movie season in North Arica, and with all the entertainnt news swirling around, it was only natural that coverage of him would die down after the promotional tour for The Mummy Returns had ended.
It wasn't just him and the Scorpion King; even the highly publicized incident of Brendan Fraser assaulting a fan seed to have faded into obscurity.
As for The Scorpion King spin-off, all he could do for now was wait.
Everything that could be done had been done. Helen Herman had contacted Sean Daniels and Stephen Somrs, and word ca back that Universal Pictures was officially moving the project into the consideration stage. It would be so ti before they gave it the green light.
Helen had specifically instructed him not to contact Sean, Stephen, or anyone at Universal Pictures for the ti being, and certainly not to make any commitnts. He was to leave all business negotiations to her to avoid any unnecessary complications.
By now, Matthew understood clearly that when it ca to negotiations involving personal interests, actors should try to stay out of the room. It was best to leave everything to an agent, so that neither side would get torn apart over deals, leaving so room to maneuver.
If an agent and a producer or production company reached an impasse, the actor could always bla the agent. But if negotiations fell apart in a one-on-one eting, things would just be awkward.
Besides, it was consistent with California's Talent Agencies Act and the rules of the Screen Actors Guild.
Thanks to his improved reading skills, he had read many books related to Hollywood, including the regulations of the Talent Agencies Act, and his understanding of the industry was far broader than it had been a year or so ago.
Hollywood was, without a doubt, a ga of fa and fortune, and it had its own set of rules—for instance, actors relying on agents to find work.
After working together for over two years, Matthew trusted Helen's abilities. Although the Angel Acting Agency now represented a large number of minor actors, he was the one with the most access to the company's resources.
He had also learned that his "PR campaign" had cost far more than $200,000. The Angel Acting Agency had invested a significant sum, and it certainly wasn't out of charity. How could a shrewd woman like Helen spend tens of thousands of dollars on him for nothing?
Matthew had a vague idea of what Helen was up to—she was plotting sothing much bigger with this project.
Needless to say, the woman had grand ambitions, and she was very likely to succeed.
Of course, an agent with ambition and intent suited him just fine. He wouldn't have had such a relatively smooth journey if his agent was soone who just went through the motions.
Matthew knew he was far luckier than most actors who had co up the hard way.
...
Matthew had been at loose ends for the past few days. He had originally planned to visit Britney Spears in Nashville, but her schedule had changed again; she had to go shoot a music video for her new album, so he had to stay in Los Angeles.
With plenty of ti on his hands, he began to make plans for the future.
As far as future plans went, the only thing that could be confird work-wise was The Scorpion King spin-off, which Universal Pictures had advanced to the project review stage, aning there was a very high probability it would eventually be made.
Nibora had recomnded a freelance sparring instructor so he could practice if he was interested, as it would help improve his physical conditioning and assist in future fight scenes.
His writing practice also needed to be maintained. He frequently updated his blog, which was difficult to do daily but manageable two or three tis a week. Unfortunately, his blog readership remained limited.
The most important thing was to hone his acting skills. Since finishing his course at the Los Angeles School of Performing Arts, he hadn't received any further systematic acting education. Most of the ti, he practiced through various forms of imitation.
Matthew concluded that his acting abilities were about average. He wouldn't have much trouble with comrcial entertainnt films or action-oriented roles that didn't demand much depth, but he would struggle with more complex scenes, like the one he had as Sergeant Hoot.
He was optimistic, believing this was a good thing—it showed he still had plenty of room to improve his acting.
To work on his skills, Matthew visited his forr teacher, David Astor, at the Los Angeles School of Performing Arts.
"It's difficult to improve your acting skills in a short period of ti."
In a coffee shop in North Hollywood, David Astor sat by the window, sipping his coffee. "I've never seen an acting genius," he told Matthew from across the table. "At most, I've seen people who have honed their craft step by step."
Matthew lifted his teacup and took a sip. He still wasn't used to the taste of coffee and had ordered a cup of black tea instead.
"But many people with diocre acting skills beco famous," Matthew said, setting down his cup. "And beco superstars."
David smiled. "That's true."
He then shook his head. "But most of them lose their montum once they beco stars. Their performances stagnate."
Matthew agreed. He had seen actors like Vin Diesel and rembered that in every role he played, he was always the sa. No matter who he was supposed to be, it was always just Vin Diesel.
"I don't want to be that kind of actor," Matthew said.
"You're a hard worker," David said, touching his bald head. "And now that you've beco a little famous, don't forget to maintain your drive to improve and hold on to your original intention."
Matthew knew this was sincere advice and answered seriously, "I will."
David looked hesitant, then sighed. "You work hard, but from a technical standpoint, you're not on the right path when it cos to honing your acting. You're taking a short and crooked path."
"I want to succeed," Matthew replied with a carefree smile. "And I don't want to succeed in five years, or ten years. I want success now."
David noted, "Simple imitation has no future. That kind of performance has no soul. You can't keep relying on it."
Matthew nodded cautiously.
Seeing that Matthew was listening, David continued, "Lately, you've been in action films, and your next role might be in one too. Matthew, that kind of movie focuses too much on the external display of the body. You're already in great shape. If you beco famous in another film like that, you'll be looked down upon by the arrogant academy and the critics for a long ti."
"Let them," Matthew replied with a dry smile. "At least I'll be on their radar."
Indeed, it was difficult for an ordinary actor to attract the attention of the academy and film critics.
David, an old-school actor, added, "The best path for a young man is to start in small, independent productions to hone his acting, then move on to comrcial productions, win a few awards, and continue to juggle art-house films to keep the critics and..."
He suddenly laughed and shook his head. "Sorry, I got ahead of myself. You're still a long way from that level."
Matthew knew this was the mainstream path in the acting world. He might have taken it if he hadn't been given a chance, but there was no point in thinking about it now. Should he turn down the lead role in a fantasy action blockbuster to dive headfirst into the murky waters of independent film?
He'd heard Helen say that the indie scene was far more chaotic than comrcial filmmaking.
"David," Matthew said honestly, "I would never pass up the opportunity I have right now."
"I understand," David, who had spent most of his life languishing in Hollywood without much success, naturally understood his decision. "But I'll say it again: don't forget to maintain your drive for improvent and your original intention."
Matthew nodded thoughtfully.
David glanced at his watch. "Matthew, at this stage, there's not much more I can do for you. You can co to anyti if you need a videotape."
"I haven't finished the last batch yet," Matthew smiled. "I'll co by in a little while to swap them out."
David stood up. "You're always welco."
David, who had an acting class to teach, was the first to leave the cafe. After Matthew paid the bill, he walked out as well.
He respected David, a man who had helped him not for personal gain, but because he appreciated his effort and offered support without expecting anything in return.
People like that were very rare in Hollywood. Most were more like him.
Matthew looked up at the bright sun in the sky and walked toward his car. He reached his used Ford and had just opened the door when he saw soone across the street taking his picture with a cara. He squinted and guessed it was a paparazzo. He gave a casual wave in that direction, not expecting the paparazzo to wave back.
"Funny guy." He got into the car, and when he looked again, the reporter was gone.
Matthew started the car and headed for Burbank. A short while later, he stopped at a red light and suddenly recalled David's words.
"Maintain my original intention? What was my original intention for coming to Hollywood?"
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