Chapter 7 |
Hanging up the phone, Matthew stood in front of the Red Penguin Services building, spreading his arms and laughing. The first step toward his dream of a stellar career and a better life had finally been taken.
The caller was Angelina Jolie's assistant, who told Matthew to go with his agent to the Columbia Pictures studio north of Burbank next Monday for an audition.
As for the role, it was a minor one, the kind the camera barely lingers on.
Matthew hadn't expected a major role right away; this was pretty much what he had anticipated.
He didn't know much about Hollywood himself, aside from major events that spread like wildfire—like Angelina Jolie eventually marrying Brad Pitt. But the body's previous owner, driven by his own Hollywood ambitions, had gathered a wealth of information, and Matthew now possessed those memories.
No matter what kind of actor you are, you need an agent to get a role.
Getting a role in Hollywood isn't easy, but the barrier to entry for becoming an actor in name only is low. The first step for anyone aspiring to act, whether as a professional or an extra, is to get some headshots and full-body photos taken, then register with an agency. You provide your height, weight, eye color, and so on, sign a contract, and get your information entered into their database so agencies can contact you.
The previous Matthew had already done this. He'd submitted his information to a small agency and had an agent's number in his phone, but unfortunately, he'd never been contacted.
Matthew pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts as he walked to the bus stop. Right now, his best option was to try contacting the agent whose number was saved in his phone.
He had considered finding an agent after his conversation with Angelina Jolie, but he'd been too busy renting a house and working to give the matter enough attention.
According to his memories, an agent was essential not just for landing roles; a good one could help an actor map out their entire career. Matthew also wanted to attend a proper acting school to continue his training, which was another necessity. But he was still figuring things out and needed the advice of a professional like an agent.
...
Hollywood doesn't just have five major agencies; there are countless smaller companies that survive in the gaps between the big players.
The Starlight Agency on Sunset Boulevard was one of them.
It was a small, recently established company with only seven or eight minor agents who had just gotten their licenses and didn't have many resources.
“Hello, Mr. Cook, it's me, Dennis. We had dinner together yesterday.” The caller, a heavyset man in ill-fitting glasses who introduced himself as Dennis, spoke with an obvious sycophantic tone.
Even though the man on the other end of the line was just a casting director for a small film, Dennis's voice was still dripping with subservience. “You need twenty actors for your film, right? Don't worry, it's no problem at all. These guys have all played corpses before; they won't even flinch if you kick them while they're on the ground. When can we sign the contract?”
“Yes? Excellent! Absolutely wonderful!” Presumably, the man on the other end had agreed, and Dennis smiled so broadly it looked like his face might crack from the strain.
“I'll see you in the morning.”
Hanging up, the stout man finally let the forced cheerfulness drop from his face. He sank into his chair, which groaned and creaked as if it might collapse at any moment.
“This goddamn business,” the man muttered, rubbing his face, which was stiff from the fake smile. In a low voice, he complained, “Jesus, I hate my job.”
He'd been working at the agency for almost a year, and of all the films he'd worked on, not a single one had gotten a wide theatrical release. They were all straight-to-goddamn-DVD.
The phone on his desk rang.
“Hello,” he answered, picking up the receiver. “This is Dennis from the Starlight Agency.”
“Ah, hello.” An unfamiliar voice came through the line. “Is this Mr. Dennis Coulter?”
“Speaking.” He thought another deal was on the line, so he plastered on his smile again, making his voice as polite as possible.
“My name is Matthew Horner.”
Dennis didn't recognize the name.
“I'm an actor. I submitted my profile to your agency a while ago.”
Hearing this, Dennis realized it wasn't another business call but just some wannabe. “What do you want?”
A hint of impatience crept into his voice.
“I've landed a role. I need an agent to sign the contract.”
Dennis's interest was slightly piqued. “A role? Who are you playing?”
“An extra.”
With that answer, Dennis's renewed interest evaporated in an instant. He let out a heavy sigh. “Oh, God...” he muttered.
“Mr. Dennis Coulter?” Matthew probably hadn't heard him and called out, “Are you still there?”
Suddenly, another phone rang. Dennis glanced at the number and saw it was the casting director he had just spoken with.
He immediately put Matthew's call on hold, just in time to see a young guy who had joined the company last month. He waved him over and said hurriedly, “I've got a call. Take this one.”
The younger agent took the phone and began speaking to Matthew.
Dennis Coulter picked up the receiver, but before he could speak, a booming voice erupted from the other end. “Dennis, what the hell are you playing at? I told you, I need cheap, non-union actors! Not expensive union ones! Why is there a union member among the actors you contacted? If I wanted union members, wouldn't I have just gone straight to the Screen Actors Guild and sent out a notice? Are you trying to pull a fast one on me?!”
“I'm sorry!” Dennis Coulter scrambled to smooth things over. “I'm so sorry! It must have been an oversight on my assistant's part.”
“Tomorrow morning!” he assured him. “You'll have the right actors by tomorrow morning!”
A few more curses and swear words followed, and Dennis Coulter could only listen until the end. After hanging up, he slumped in his chair and rolled his eyes in despair.
“Wait, what did you say?” The young agent's voice was filled with disbelief. “Are you saying you got a role in Girl, Interrupted, directed by James Mangold and starring Winona Ryder and Angelina Jolie?”
“What?” Dennis Coulter froze for a moment. “James Mangold? Winona Ryder? Angelina Jolie? Girl, Interrupted?”
How could such big names be connected to some small-time, unremarkable actor whose name he couldn't even recall?
If he remembered correctly, the Columbia Pictures film was a forty-million-dollar project! Not even the head of his own agency had access to something on that level, let alone him and his assistants.
Could there be some mistake? Dennis Coulter couldn't bring himself to believe it.
“Yeah,” the faint voice on the other end of the line said with absolute certainty. “Miss Jolie helped me get the part.”
Jolie? Angelina Jolie? Dennis Coulter shot to his feet. With a speed that completely betrayed his bulky frame, he lunged across the room, snatched the phone, and, ignoring the anger in the young man's eyes, announced loudly, “I'm so sorry, I handed the phone to the wrong person. This is your agent, Dennis Coulter.”
Seeing the fat man's shameless behavior, the young agent angrily started to say something but fell silent under his threatening glare.
“What's going on over there? Why are you passing the phone back and forth?” The guy on the other end sounded confused. “So, can you represent me?”
Dennis Coulter answered immediately, “Yes! Of course, I can!”
For an agent, a gig like this was nothing, but representing this kid meant a chance to deal with someone of Angelina Jolie's caliber and the cast of Girl, Interrupted—people he'd never had access to before.
It wasn't just him; the entire agency had never handled anything like it.
This was a foot in the door, a knock that could open up a whole new level of business!
Only a fool would want to stay stuck in a small-time company with no future.
Thinking about the chance to make higher-level contacts, Dennis Coulter couldn't wait. “Alright, Matthew, let's meet up. Come to the office, and we'll talk in person.”
After hanging up, Dennis Coulter noticed the young man was still staring at him. He grunted and said, “What are you looking at? He was my client to begin with.”
He was right. The young man shot him one last indignant look before slumping back into his chair, defeated.
About forty minutes later, the receptionist came in with a young man and announced, “Dennis, he's here for you.”
Following the receptionist's gaze, Matthew saw a large, heavyset man in ill-fitting glasses who, by visual estimate, weighed at least two hundred pounds.
“You're Matthew?” the stout man asked, habitually plastering on a smile as he greeted him.
Matthew nodded. “And you're Mr. Dennis Coulter?”
“Just call me Dennis,” the stout man said with apparent friendliness.
He glanced at his watch and said, “Let's go downstairs, grab some coffee, and we can talk there.”
Matthew silently followed the heavyset man downstairs, where Dennis ordered two coffees and asked, “So, Miss Jolie got you the job?”
“Yes,” Matthew replied, adding, “Please keep this confidential. Miss Jolie doesn't want outsiders to know about it.”
Dennis Coulter nodded. “Can you give me the general picture? How did you even get in touch with Jolie?”
Matthew was already prepared for this question and had woven plenty of lies into his story. The gist of it was that he'd come to Hollywood to pursue his dream, had a chance encounter with Jolie, and she had then helped him get a small part.
“I'll go with you on Monday.” After hearing the story, Dennis Coulter said with a rather pompous air, “You just focus on acting well. I'll take care of the rest.”