January 2007, Vancouver, Canada
"Action!"
As soon as the command was issued, Emily, as Bella, walked onto the classroom set beside the actor who played Mike Newton.
"Oh yes, Ms. Swan," the teacher acknowledged her quietly, just as Emily walked in front of the only fan in the room. Her eyes were locked on Rob, who was playing a broody emo teen vampire, but as soon as the fan blew Emily's hair in Rob's direction, he held his nose as if his life depended on it.
Emily became self-conscious and looked away. The teacher gestured to the only empty seat in the room, which turned out to be the one beside Rob.
The vampire didn't remove his hand from his nose at all and stayed as far away from her as possible. Emily surreptitiously smelled her hair to check if she had an unpleasant odor.
As the class continued, Rob kept glaring daggers at Emily, as if he wanted to kill her right then and there. Emily played her part perfectly, embodying a nervous teen girl in a new environment, but for some reason, Rob's portrayal was off.
The more I watched him, the more I resisted the urge to laugh. At first glance, the film seemed like a parody rather than the real deal. And all because one person—Robert Pattinson.
I looked around to see if anyone else had noticed, but clearly, that wasn't the case. I glanced at Catherine Hardwicke, the director, but even she didn't call for a retake. After a few moments, I'd had enough and decided to intervene.
"Cut!" I called out, surprising everyone on set.
"Is something the matter, Troy?" Catherine asked hesitantly when I didn't speak right away.
Now I was in a bit of a fix. As the producer, I could tell Rob to improve his performance, but I didn't want to undermine Catherine's authority.
"Yes, can we talk before you do a retake?" I asked hopefully before motioning toward the side.
"Sure," she nodded, following me.
"What the hell is Rob doing?" I asked in a hushed whisper. "Emily is so good, but him? What I just saw was terrible. Laughable even. Why aren't you correcting him?"
Catherine sighed tiredly. "Believe me, I have tried. I tried so many times to get him to correct his acting during the rehearsals, but he is adamant that this is the approach to follow for the character. I thought to bring it up to you, but since you recommended him personally, I thought better of it."
I frowned slightly, thinking it over. I remembered watching the original [Twilight], and he wasn't so laughably bad even there. Did shooting this film a year earlier degrade his acting talent somehow? Or was it something else? Did my future knowledge come to bite me in the ass by making Rob a terrible actor?
"How many of his scenes have you shot?" I asked Catherine.
"Not many," she confessed. "Till now, we have focused on shooting Taylor Lautner's pre-transformation scenes for both [Twilight] and [New Moon] first so he could take a break for half a year to bulk up. This is the first major close up of Rob that we are shooting."
I nodded at that before asking the main question, "Can you get him to correct his performance, or should I talk to him about it? Because if he continues with this, we'll have to replace him."
I was dead serious about this. [Twilight] may be one of the most hated franchises of all time, but it worked because the characters took themselves seriously, and their portrayal didn't come off as cartoonish—exactly the opposite of what Rob was doing right now.
"I wouldn't mind if you talk to him," Catherine said seriously. "Maybe he needs to face reality directly from the producer to realize what's at stake."
"Okay," I agreed. "It's nearly time, so let's break for lunch while I have a talk with him."
Within ten minutes, everyone was off to have lunch, while Emily and Rob were laughing and chatting right where they were situated for the scene. It was so bizarre to see the change within a matter of moments.
"Rob!" I went over and called him out.
"Troy!" Rob fist-bumped me.
Emily went one step forward and hugged me like an old friend. "Congratulations on the Grammy record you set."
"Thank you," I said gratefully to her before turning to her boyfriend. "Can we talk, Rob?"
"Sure," he said in confusion. "What's up?"
The rest of the cast and crew had gone for lunch, so it was just Emily, Rob, and me. I really didn't want to do it in front of her.
"I can step out if you want?" Emily offered, sensing my hesitation.
Before I could say yes, Robert took over, "I'll tell it to you later anyway."
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at the obliviousness of this man. Fine. If he wanted it this way.
"You gotta stop doing whatever the hell you're doing," I said seriously.
Rob seemed surprised by my sudden shift in tone. "And what am I doing?"
I looked over at Emily to see if she would tell him, but she conveniently looked away. So she, too, had realized it. Wow. Talk about telling each other everything.
"Your acting approach is so wrong," I said bluntly. "It's like you are making a parody of the character. We are making a serious film here."
Rob laughed. The motherfucker actually laughed at that.
"Come on! You can't mean that! This film is pedophilia at its best. Why would I date a girl a hundred years younger otherwise?"
I closed my eyes for a few moments, trying not to pull one of my infamous judo flips on him.
"Fine," I said after a few moments. "We haven't shot a lot of your scenes, so you can still leave if you really think that." Then I turned to Emily. "What do you think of Henry Cavill, who played Cedric Diggory in [Goblet of Fire]? I think you two will look good together. Or I could ask Jamie Bell for a favor and step in for this."
As soon as I asked that, both Emily's and Rob's eyes widened comically.
"What?" Rob asked intelligently.
"Don't worry," I assured him. "You won't have to return the signing amount you've already received."
"No," Rob's voice turned serious immediately. "Please don't do that. I really want to do this."
"It doesn't seem like it," I retorted. "If you don't like the material, then why are you even here? Listen, man, either get serious or get out. I have more than a hundred million of my own money at stake on this project. I won't risk it just because you can't take your job seriously."
"Troy," Emily called out, lightly holding my hand. "Please calm down. I'll help him improve. We'll go over all his scenes again."
"Don't you two live together?" I asked rhetorically. "Don't tell me you've never practiced with each other."
"We did," Emily admitted. "But we didn't know what approach you and Catherine wanted. Now that you've made it clear you want a more serious tone, that's exactly what we'll do. No jokes. At all. I promise."
I glanced at Rob, who—for once—looked properly chastised. Then I turned back to Emily, whose eyes silently pleaded with me to let it go.
"Fine," I relented after a moment. "But you both need to sign an additional agreement stating that in any interview or public event, you will never badmouth Stephenie Meyer, Twilight, its storyline, characters—anything. The contract will lay out more clearly what all you can't say. If you breach this, you'll have to pay back double your entire salary."
The reason I imposed this condition so strictly was simple—Robert Pattinson famously hated the franchise that made him a superstar. In every interview, press junket, or talk show, he'd find a reason to call it a terrible story.
I agreed with him wholeheartedly, which was why I never bothered to act in it myself. But that was before I had a financial stake in [Twilight]'s success. As a producer, I'd be a fool not to recognize how much it can hurt the film's profitability when the lead actor publicly mocked it.
When they first signed their contracts, this hadn't occurred to me, but now I could recall Rob's interviews perfectly. In every single one, he came off as incredibly ungrateful. Had it not been for [Twilight], he would have been just another forgettable actor among millions. The least he could do was keep his mouth shut if he had nothing good to say.
Emily's eyes widened slightly, but she quickly recovered. After a beat, she nodded. "I'll sign it." Then she turned to Rob and nudged him hard in the ribs.
"Ouch! Yeah, I'll sign it too."
I nodded. "Remember, signing that agreement doesn't exempt you from improving your performance. I'm giving you a week—get your shit together by then. I'll ask Tobias and Evan to arrange on-set acting coaches if that'll help. But if you don't improve even after that…"
I didn't have to finish the sentence. The somber look on Rob's face told me exactly how hard he had taken the news.
Not wanting to linger, I left, leaving behind a worried couple. I hated being the asshole, but I had literal billions riding on this franchise. The first two films alone had a combined budget of $75 million. Factor in marketing, and that number would easily double to $150 million—probably even more. I couldn't afford to take risks.
Let's hope Rob learns his lesson because I would really hate to fire him.
(Break)
"It's so good to have you home, love," Mum said, hugging me tightly the moment I stepped out of the car. The security team hadn't even unloaded my luggage yet, but I didn't care. I hugged her back just as tightly.
Honestly, I had missed being home. I'd been in London briefly during my concert here, but my schedule had been so packed that I never got the chance to visit. I knew that coming home would mean losing an entire day, and I simply hadn't had the time. But now that the film promotions and the concert were done and dusted, I could finally relax with my parents.
"Leave him be, Kathy," Dad said from beside her. "He's not a little kid anymore. You're embarrassing him."
"I'm not!" "She's not!" Mum and I said at the same time before chuckling in unison.
"I missed you," I said sincerely. "I don't care if you do this in front of the whole world."
That earned me another tight hug before she sighed. "Are you sure you have to go? Why can't you just stay here with us forever?"
The vulnerability in her voice nearly made me cave, but I knew I had to leave eventually.
"I'll stay here until we finish shooting [The Night Of]," I promised.
She was worried because, after turning 18, I had asked Dad to purchase a few residential properties for me. As much as I loved my parents, I didn't want to live with them forever. I had chosen locations in Los Angeles, New York, and London—cities I was most likely to live in because of the nature of my work. I know property prices will go down significantly in the coming years, that's why I told him to stay on the lookout for distress sales that will start happening by the end of the year.
As luck would have it, Dad had finalized a place for me in the UK where renovation work had already begun.
"But why do you even have to move out?" Mum asked petulantly. "Didn't you say you were planning to take a break afterward?"
"I had planned to take a break to focus on my music," I reminded her. "Not for a vacation."
"Let's not argue about this right now," Dad interjected. "Let's go inside. I want to celebrate my son's Oscar and Grammy nominations."
"It's no big deal, Dad," I said as we walked in. "I already have four Oscars. As for Grammys…"
They don't matter. I had a reason to campaign for them before, but now that she and I have gone our separate ways, it doesn't matter whether I win or not. As soon as that reminder hit me, my mood instantly went down the drain.
"They do matter," Dad insisted, oblivious of my inner thoughts. "Do you know how many people would kill just for a single nomination?"
I did. Over the years, I had spoken to countless actors, and one question always seemed to come up when they met me for the first time: 'What does it feel like to win an Oscar?' It was a stupid question, but it showed just how much weight that golden trophy carried in the industry.
"I still think you should have gotten one for [Order of the Phoenix] as well," Mum remarked.
"Don't get greedy, Mum," I teased with a grin.
The 79th Academy Awards had announced their nominations just yesterday. As expected, I was nominated for Best Supporting Actor for [Little Miss Sunshine]. The film had done reasonably well at the Oscars, securing seven nominations: Best Picture, Best Director, two for Best Supporting Actor (one for me and one for Alan Arkin), Best Supporting Actress (for Abigail Breslin), Best Original Screenplay, and Best Editing.
[Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix] had also received four nominations: Best Sound Editing, Best Sound Mixing, Best Cinematography, and Best Visual Effects.
Under normal circumstances, it wouldn't have even landed those technical nods, but Warner Bros. had run an aggressive awards campaign this year. Their film, [The Departed], was the frontrunner for Best Picture and Best Director, so they had pushed hard to dominate in all major categories by campaigning me for a Best Actor nomination. The only problem was that I hadn't campaigned personally. I had attended one or two events here and there, but my packed schedule made it impossible to fully commit.
So while I didn't get the nomination, at least the film secured four technical ones because of heavy campaigns by Warner.
"So, are you ready to start shooting [The Night Of]?" Mum asked conversationally.
"As ready as I'll ever be," I nodded. "Have you considered my request for the show?"
"You mean the part where you bulk up and get tattoos in prison?" Mum asked wryly. "Going bald would have been a much better character development, but I understand that breaches your Harry Potter contract. Peter liked your idea, though, and he's added it to the script. But are you sure you'll be able to pull it off?"
"Of course," I assured her. "We'll just take a week or two off in between. Anything is possible if you put your mind to it."
Time to activate my Christian Bale mode.
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Fun Fact: That Twilight part actually happened. Robert Pattinson was willfully bad at the beginning of the shoot, and the studio had to threaten to fire him for him to improve.