Cinnamon Twigs (23 page)

             
‘Sure. Thanks. But Mathis is a hero.’

             
‘An unconventional hero. You don’t like conventionality, Daniel. I’m sure you could pull it off.’

             
‘I’m too young!’ I laughed self-deprecatingly.

             
‘They’re looking for someone a little bit younger than the character in the novels.’

             
‘They’re not gonna go for a television actor like me.’

             
‘Noland is leaning towards the idea of casting a relative unknown. There’s nobody in Hollywood right for the role.’

             
‘And you really think I’d be right for the part?’

             
‘Yeah, I really do. In fact, I think you’d be great for it.’

             
‘But he’s a crusty Englishman.’

             
‘Just get rid of the Cardiff accent and it’ll be a breeze for you. You can audition next week.’ Elliott finished the last dregs of his wine.

             
‘I honestly can’t see me getting the part. But this is a massive favor, Elliott.’

             
‘We’ve always been mates. It was a shame we grew apart. I think we could be good friends again.’

             
‘I think so too,’ I said. ‘Thank you very much!’

             
‘No problem. Apparently, Noland has looked at videos of you doing television work and he likes what he sees. If you land this part, you’ve made your big break in cinema. These are big budget movies they intend to make.’

             
‘It would be massive.’

             
‘All you have to do is further impress in the audition. They like the look of you. You’re big and brash. They like that a lot. It’s precisely what they’re looking for.’

             
‘I’ll let you know how it goes,’ I said.

             
‘Oh, I’ll probably know before you do.’ He grinned.

             
I’d been wrong about Elliott. Although we had continuously competed against each other, he understood that our friendship was constant and not tainted by jealous rivalry. He’d taught me a lesson about true friendship. Even though we’d grown apart and didn’t always see eye to eye, he had still been there for me.

             
Many actors analyze the roles they’re playing to the extent that they know what toothpaste they should use during performance time. I was never one of those actors. I got to know the basic traits of my character and conveyed my personal interpretation. If an actor thinks he’s
become
the character he’s playing then he’s a lunatic. I was always aware that I was just acting, either on stage or television. But I did a lot of research on Dean Mathis during the week running up to my audition. Knowing the character’s background turned out to be very useful. Mathis was driven by his past, by the tragic loss of his family. But additional forces were at work, which made him very complex. He resented upper class attitudes, despite being rich. But he couldn’t deny his propensity for wine and expensive cigars. He was strong and ruthless, and he avoided relationships - including sexual ones - like the plague. He didn’t want to become emotionally involved with a friend or lover in any way whatsoever, because it could compromise his vengeful intentions. But Jonathon Boyle had a wonderful way of alluding to the character’s emotions without making them overt in his novels.

             
Dean Mathis was an actor himself, not in a literal sense, but in the way he pretended to be a cold-hearted, ruthless automaton. But he revealed his emotions in the rare moments that made Boyle’s novels so special. The prospect of playing that character really excited me, because he was a sophisticated detective, a heap of contradictions. Not just an action hero. A good actor likes to play that sort of character. It’s too easy to play a regular villain, or hero. Mathis acted villainous in order to beat the villains.

             
Lauren helped me get to grips with the character. She told me my gait would be crucial: I had to walk into that audition room like I was capable of killing men with my bare hands. She said it would be necessary to put on a performance as soon as I met the producer, Derek Noland. So I worked on my authoritative grace and practiced an English accent. Mathis couldn’t help being a snob, so I couldn’t act like a lad from Cardiff anymore. I had to be a commanding hero, eloquent and graceful. But rough and ready at the same time.

             
I decided I’d wear a brown leather jacket and jeans to the audition. And I wouldn’t shave that morning, so I could appear polished not through my clothing but through my manner.

             
Some actors get lucky, but I didn’t really believe I’d land the part. I’d never auditioned for anything as big as that. But as I made my way through London’s hustling crowds, while the sirens sang in the landmark squares, I hoped my time had come to hit the film industry’s jackpot.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Becoming an Icon

It’s hard to act cool when you’re auditioning for the
Hollywood role of an imperturbable hero. I waited in the foyer until the casting directors called me. I wiped my brow with a damp handkerchief and strolled into the audition room.

             
Here goes nothing
, I thought to myself.

             
The two casting directors were sitting at the other end of the room. The first I gazed at was a spindly woman with a distinct, hawk-like face. A cigarette dangled between her lips, concluding in a precariously long nose of ash. The other casting director, a fat, greying man in his early fifties, didn’t even look at me. The producer Derek Noland sat between them. I relaxed at the sight of his kind face and warm brown eyes, and guessed his age to be around forty. The spindly woman fixed her hawk-like eyes on me as I moved towards the desk, treading across the expensive Anatolia rug and taking in the subdued lighting and pine wall panels.

             
I strolled into that immaculately designed room as if I owned the place, taking a seat before anyone asked me to and giving the three presiding judges very firm handshakes.

             
‘Pleased to meet you, Mister Mace.’ Noland smiled broadly.

             
I grunted in response. And then, guessing that might be
too
impudent, said, ‘Likewise,’ uttering the two syllables in as English an accent as I could muster. They knew I was Welsh but I wanted them to feel like Dean Mathis had just walked into the room. That audition room became a stage, a film set, and I transformed into the character I would play for many years.

             
‘Why do you think you’d be good for the role of Dean Mathis?’ The greying man’s voice sounded dismissive. I noticed that his complexion preserved the same shade as his hair.

             
‘Because no Hollywood ponce can do it,’ I said coolly.

             
Derek Noland tried to suppress a titter.

             
‘Do you like the books?’ the spindly woman asked.

             
‘What books?’

             
‘The Dean Mathis books, of course.’

             
‘Of course.’

             
‘Do you think you have what it takes to make it on the big screen?’ Noland leaned forward.

             
‘Yes. I look good inflated,’ I joked. ‘I’ve been told that the small screen doesn’t do my big blue eyes any justice.’

             
Derek Noland actually laughed this time. Then he asked me to read a few lines from the script. I read the lines with ease, in a gruff, no bullshit voice. I sounded just like Dean Mathis would in my imagination. Confidence suddenly coursed through my veins.

             
‘Thank you very much, Mister Mace,’ Noland said, shaking my hand again.

             
‘Thank you for having me.’

             
‘We’ll get back to you.’ The spindly woman leaned back in her red upholstered club chair.

             
‘I sincerely hope so.’ I swaggered out of the audition room.

             
I knew it had gone well. But it’d be a miracle if I landed the role. The casting directors had searched Hollywood, leaving no stone unturned. How could I, a minor television actor, steal that part?

             
I learned a couple of days later that Derek Noland wanted me to do some screen tests. Hundreds of onerous fights tests ensued over the following three months. I received scratches and bruises while going through rigorous training and fight choreography, not knowing how close I was to obtaining the role. I was told I couldn’t inform anyone, except Lauren, that my name was in the hat.

             
Noland told me the part was mine after the umpteenth fight sequence. It had been three months of uncertainty, of physical hell, but I’d made it. Lauren and I celebrated with champagne. Elliott gave me a call and congratulated me. If he’d congratulated me in person, I would have snogged his face off. I’d been very fortunate in getting my big break, and knew that many actors out there had been made to work much harder, but to no avail.

             
Here was my chance to be the dashing Hollywood hero I had always dreamt of being.

             
To prepare myself for the role, I hit the gym more than ever. The movie involved many fight sequences and I needed to be in peak condition. I cut down to ten cigarettes a day and persisted with a high protein diet, doing intense cardio to lower my body fat percentage.

             
The movie was called
Rogue
. I fell in love with the dark and witty script. Noland couldn’t find a director he trusted for the project so, having plenty of directorial experience himself, he chose to take the reins. He made a very stylish movie, yet unpretentious. He regarded the camera as a spy and made the picture deliberately voyeuristic. ‘Hitchcockian’ was the first word that sprang to my mind, and I believe Noland’s style deserved to be described with that prestigious adjective.

             
Principal photography began in October. The first shot of me as Dean Mathis was filmed outside a hotel in London. I sauntered into the hotel, wearing a black leather jacket and faded blue jeans. Despite that easy first take, the filming process was hard work. I did as many of my own stunts as possible, and got knocked about, but I had great fun and wore my bruises like medals. They proved I was working hard in the role. The production crew made me feel like a star, but I kept my feet firmly on the ground. I knew that if I acted overly proud of myself then that pride could devour all the hard work I’d done. It didn’t matter what Noland or the publicity people said. The public would determine whether I was worthy of the role.

             
After filming ended, I went for a break with Lauren. We stayed in a lovely hotel in Southern France. The media took a great deal of interest in me and many journalists believed I could be a hot new talent. To my amazement, a photograph of me bathing on a beach made the front pages, and I received praise for my toned physique. But I didn’t care for such superficiality, although the comments were very kind and made all those agonizing gym sessions (and resisting that last slice of pizza) feel worth it. I wanted to be praised for my performance. I’d have to wait until the movie’s release for that.

             
The picture would be released in over 2,500 screens in the US and Canada. Journalists wondered if Dean Mathis could become a cinematic hero. I sat in a hotel room, just hours before the premiere, and prayed that all would go well. It really was make or break. If the movie flopped, I could forget about Hollywood. But then I remembered the distant reassurances of Michael, and I knew my time had come.

             
The audience laughed at the comedic moments and sighed with relief whenever Mathis got himself out of trouble. The comments afterwards were favorable and critics empathized with the Byronic hero. The picture became massively successful and I was propelled into stardom.

             
Noland shook my hand during the premiere and gave me a congratulatory gold bracelet.

             
‘You deserve all the praise you get,’ he said. ‘You’re gonna be a massive star, Daniel.’

             
Rogue
was described as an ‘atypical drama,’ and critics noted that the action sequences were juxtaposed with profound emotional depth. My performance gained critical acclaim, and journalists flattered me with comparisons to greats like Brando and Connery. Dean Mathis was viewed as a revival of the masculine hero figure. Critics could see I’d paid attention to detail, and they complimented my leonine gait and ‘ice cool’ delivery of lines.

             
Although I’d always dreamt of fame, nothing could prepare me for its rapidity. Overnight, I became an international celebrity, photographed by the paparazzi and hounded for autographs by zealous fans. I’d even been given my own bodyguard, a towering man named Jonathon who had ebony skin and biceps the size of beach balls. He knew how to have a good laugh, despite his imposing stature, and soon became a close friend of mine, willing to put his life on the line to protect me.