A Star is Born (6 page)

Apparently I was not the only one to reach that conclusion, at least based on the post-viewing interviews. The questions both Derrick and Bill got (they did all of the interviews together) were of a higher caliber than I had anticipated. I had anticipated more of “why did you choose that shade of blue for the water?” when what we got were substantive questions about the socio-political conditions that led to the story that had just premiered. Despite the questions being of a greater depth than usual, both guys showed their involvement in the picture by providing equally in-depth answers.

Following an hour and a half of questioning by reporters and reviewers, we all adjourned to a local eatery for the post-premiere celebratory dinner. Traditionally, these dinners went on for quite some time, while everyone waited for the first reviews to hit the newspapers. But, in the modern age where newspapers were a dying industry, everyone waited for the first blog reviews to appear, and blog postings appeared much faster than newspapers could be published, so there really was no need for the meal to last for hours, like they once had.

Moira got the first word once we were settled. “So, boys, I’ve got to tell you. I’ve been around this town a long time. In that time I’ve seen a lot, heard a lot, watched a lot of movies, seen a lot of second-rate actors. But tonight I saw two first-rate actors bringing some of the former glory back to Hollywood and the American movie industry. I think you’ve got a hit on your hands, guys. I’m proud of you both. Congratulations on a job well done.” This was indeed high praise from a woman who rarely gave praise, which told all of us that it was much deserved.

Bill and I rarely ate out. For one, we didn’t have a lot of spare cash for luxuries like eating out. For another, as students we didn’t have the time to spare. But that night we were celebrating. Everyone ordered whatever he or she wanted, and everyone feasted, toasted, and celebrated. We were celebrating; we were happy.

W
HEN
the movie was released to the general public on Christmas Day, it instantly shot to the top of the box office results and became the number one film in America for several weeks running. The producers had gambled on combining a huge star with an unknown, and it appeared their gamble was paying off big time. The movie recouped all of its production costs in record time and started generating pure profit for everyone involved.

Moira represented Bill as well as Derrick, and she had negotiated things that neither Bill nor I would ever have thought to ask for, such as percentages of revenues—not profits, since studios played lots of games with how much it cost to produce a film and therefore when “profit” began to accumulate. She had negotiated a deal that gave both men more income from the post-profit stage than either of them had earned in the basic contract.

For two people who had been living on next to nothing for so long, to suddenly have vastly more—I mean
vastly
more—money at our disposal was an unusual thing. Neither of us quite believed that it was real. While there are many, many stories of actors who went from having no money to suddenly being wealthy overnight, there was no way that we would be living the high life and spending it all. We had lived on so little for so long that we desperately tried to preserve all of our newfound wealth by spending even less than we had before we had the money.

Scripts and Decisions

A
LMOST
immediately after the movie came out in general release, Bill and Derrick began to be inundated by scripts and offers to do more movies together. It seemed that everyone had recognized that the two men were dynamite together and had a chemistry on the screen that really worked. So everyone wanted that chemistry for the next picture the two guys did together.

Bill and Derrick continued to spend lots of time together, reviewing the scripts and discussing the merits and downsides to each of them. By the end of the first week of the general release of the film, they were sitting absolutely surrounded by mountains of scripts. I don’t know how they kept one straight from another, but they did. Moira spent a lot of time together with them, going through the scripts. She was able to offer not just opinions about the scripts but also about the people who would be involved in the production of each one. She had been around long enough to know everyone, and to know whom they could work with and whom they couldn’t.

Along with the scripts came an avalanche of phone calls from producers and agents trying to persuade Bill—Derrick knew better and had a largely unlisted life—that he should accept their offer over all others. Whenever the calls came in while Moira was there with the guys, she grabbed the phone and proceeded to scare the daylights out of several people with her rather aggressive protection of “her boys,” as she called them.

Another thing that we had to adapt to rather quickly was the fact that Bill was now recognized just about everywhere he went. So, simple trips, like a quick run to the grocery store, were no longer simple trips. No. Now those trips were adventures in seeing how many people would try to shake his hand and have their picture taken with him. One woman was so overcome with excitement at seeing him in the grocery store one afternoon that she screamed and fainted. Bill had instantly grabbed her and lowered her safely to the floor. When she roused and realized that it was Bill holding her, she did the whole thing again. At that point I grabbed Bill and pulled him out of the frozen foods aisle—all I could picture was a horrible
Groundhog Day
event happening over and over and over again, a piece of film that was on perpetual repeat.

Bill took to wearing sunglasses and a baseball cap and to dressing in clothing that made no one give him a second glance—baggy sweatpants or ratty old jeans—whenever he went out anywhere. It helped, but did not totally eradicate the problem. He was quickly coming to discover what every successful actor in Hollywood had learned the hard way—the adoring public demanded a lot from those they adored.

At first it was novel, then it was mildly disruptive, then it was a pain, and then we came to simply hate it, partly because it happened anytime we went anywhere. It was at that time that I acquired another job—I ran interference for Bill so that his adoring public could look but not touch. It was my job to constantly be on guard for those who might be watching Bill, studying him, trying to figure out if they were right. I played the bad cop, which meant that their perception of Bill was untarnished.

And, let me tell you, whenever both Bill and Derrick went out anywhere together, it was a free-for-all, a sideshow worthy of Ringling Brothers. It was for that reason that we limited our time together outside of our home, Moira’s home, or Derrick’s home, to the bare minimum. This was also a pain, to feel that you were a prisoner of your own fame, of your own good fortune, but that was a fact of life. I guess it really was true that nothing in life was free, and that included the cost of doing a good job in a movie.

On one particularly grueling day, when Bill and I had a lot to do and when his usual ploys weren’t working well, I tried a new approach with someone—I lied. I hated to do it, and it felt totally wrong, but I lied. I told one woman who came up to us in Target, “If he was really that actor, would he be shopping in Target? Himself? I think all the actors have a whole staff of people who take care of those things. This one not only shops in Target, but he has to go home, do the dishes,
and
clean an old lady’s pool. Trust me, not star-quality jobs.”

She gave my words some thought, not totally buying it, but she did go away a moment later with a shake of her head. “You really do look exactly like him,” she said as she left us in the produce aisle. We never dawdled when out in public anymore, simply because it led to the horrible consequence of being mobbed by adoring fans.

One night at home, Bill was feeling terribly torn by the whole thing. “I probably should talk to some of those people that come up to me wherever we go. They do, after all, pay my salary every time they buy a ticket to see our movie. Maybe what I should do is to just allow an extra twenty minutes for any venture out for the inevitable meet and greet. What do you think?” he asked me.

“I think that only you can decide that one,” I told him. “There are times where it might work, but once school begins again, we don’t have lots and lots of free time. We both have rather full schedules.”

“Um….”

“Um?” I asked, not liking the sound of whatever was coming next.

“About that….”

“What about that?”

“I’ve been thinking.”

“Oh, no. What now? That’s never a good way to begin a sentence.”

“You know that Derrick and I have been absolutely inundated with scripts. Right?”

“Yes. I do believe I’ve observed you looking at one or two… hundred! Where are you going with this?”

“I’ve been thinking.”

“You already said that. Just spit it out.”

“If you’d shut up and let me, maybe I could!”

“Fine. Talk,” I said, sitting down and simply looking at him.

“I’ve been thinking. Everybody says that your shelf life in Hollywood is really short and unpredictable. So when it happens, you simply have to hold on for the ride, because all too quickly it’s going to be over.”

Bill paused, as if waiting for me to say something. But I remained silent, simply looking at him with as much of a neutral expression on my face as I could muster. I had a good guess on where this conversation was going, and I didn’t like what I thought he was about to say.

“So, I’ve been thinking.”

I kept my mouth shut but arched my eyebrow, a silent way to say, “Get on with it already!”

“Um… how to say this? I think Derrick and I are going to accept one or more of the scripts and start work on another movie, with several more to follow immediately after that one. I can’t very well do that and go to school at the same time. So I’ve been thinking about taking a leave of absence from school for a quarter… or maybe two.” He rushed on, afraid I was going to say something, but I didn’t. “This would just be a short-term, temporary step to get me over this hump where we’re inundated with really great offers.”

He stopped talking at that point. He looked at me, but I remained silent. “So?”

“Am I allowed to speak now?” I asked.

“Yes. I would like to have your advice, your opinion, please. You are the wisest man I know.”

“Stop sucking up, my dear. You’re not very good at it.”

He pulled himself upright with a look of indignation on his face. But I suspected he was indignant not because I had called him on speaking untruthfully, but on not being a good enough actor to convince me that he was being honest. I held my ground.

“Bill, you have to make your own decisions in life on a lot of things. Something like this, though, has an impact on me as well. Does this mean that you plan to remain here in California? I’m still in school, working on a four-year degree. When I complete that four-year degree, I had thought we were going to go back to New York. I didn’t think we’d be staying here.”

I paused for a moment, reconsidering my approach to this discussion. “I’m very, very happy for you. You have to make decisions that most of us will never know. And you have to make those decisions because you’ve done something amazing! You made a movie, and you did a fantastic job with your role. And I’m so very, very proud of you! Please know that.”

“Thank you,” he said, suddenly surprised. “That means a lot to me.” I had told him before that he had done a great job, but to repeat that now in the present moment seemed to carry a lot of weight.

“All I had to do was look at the volume of paper that has appeared on our doorstep in the last few weeks to know that you and Derrick are hot! No question. No discussion needed. You two did something amazing. There was an energy there that few others can produce. The number of scripts that appeared tells us that others saw that too. Everyone who looked can see the obvious. Everyone wants to hitch their wagon to you two, because they know you’re going to take them places that they can’t go on their own.

“And I’m so happy for you. But I’m scared at the same time.”

“Why?” he asked.

“Because we’re going different directions, and I’m scared that we will have less in common. I’m scared that we’ll know less and less about one another. I’m scared that we’ll drift apart, that you’ll have your Hollywood friends and I’ll have my school friends. I’m scared that we’ll never be able to go out in public again without fear of someone recognizing you and intruding on our time together. I’m scared that you’ll have to hide who you really are to get ahead. I’m scared that I could be left behind.”

I paused for a moment to give him time to assimilate some of what I was saying to him. That, plus I needed some time to assimilate the same information. “I don’t want to lose you, Bill. You’re everything to me. Is any of this making sense?” I asked.

Bill didn’t speak for a moment, but simply nodded. “You mean everything to me as well. And if I can do something that earns me some money now that can make our lives easier down the road, then I’ve got to do it—for me, for you, for us.”