796. A lucky star.
He wanted to do the work; everyone was pleased. The way Billy carried the instinct for acting, every gesture, every form, and the revolution embodied in the character of Private Ryan created a visual spirit that was extraordinarily difficult to achieve. A creation that could never be simple.
Exhausted, sweat ran down his back, and he had entered what they called a trance. Yet he was the greatest star in Hollywood, and everyone wanted him to be part of the film. They preferred that he hold a certain prominence over the others, because he was already a face that was beginning to be recognized all over the world.
-I have to go.- Billy replied, tossing the cards onto the table with a long sigh. He needed some water; his throat had gone dry. It had been more demanding than any recording session he had ever endured. Even when he filmed the scenes his own way, from different angles, he had been fortunate to participate only in the battle at the Omaha bridge set, and from there the ending would finally be assembled.
-Thanks for the chocolates.- someone growled jokingly.
They did not gamble with money because it was forbidden, and that alone would have caused endless trouble. Instead, with a kind of embarrassed enthusiasm, they wagered cookies, chocolates, and small cartons of milk, which were distributed one or two at a time—or even three if someone managed to persuade the person handing them out. Billy, with a determination that was entirely his own, often ended up with an extra ration because the woman distributing the food adored his smile and secretly slipped him another portion. That caused some mild resentment among the others, but once the treats left Billy’s hands they usually ended up shared with the rest, for practical reasons and simple fairness. Billy had realized that the irritation always faded whenever he lost the round.
-Hello, sorry I’m late. I was making friends.- Billy said to Steven.
-They’d like to ask you a favor.- Steven commented, introducing him to the executives—four men in tailored suits, well-perfumed and well-rested, wearing those polite pink smiles that suggested a neat and calculated idea behind their presence.
-A favor.- Billy replied, not wishing to elaborate further. The word itself seemed to contain everything that needed to be said.
-It’s simple. They say you’re one of the most pragmatic people around. We’d like you to join the team and take part in an international tour across several countries, serving as one of the public faces.- Ian Bryce explained.
-I work, and I can do it for a price.- Billy answered calmly.
-Let the agents handle the details, as long as we have your approval.- Mark Gordon replied.
-Yes, I’ll do it. I think it’s simple enough. But I won’t attend parties after ten o’clock, and I won’t deal with special access requests from people outside the schedule.- Billy responded.
-All right, let’s do it.- Steven concluded.
-Hey, how about this—what if I pay you through promotion and you let me produce a video game based on this? I think it could be a great opportunity.- Billy suggested to Steven, who was sitting beside one of the long-faced executives. The man studied the star closely.
They had pressured Spielberg to hire him, and in the end he said yes. Once he watched the young man perform—the discipline, the global presence, the smallest details of his craft—it became clear that true dramatic art was there. And so he set aside his doubts and gave him the role.
-Do you want to give your salary back to me?- Steven asked.
-Yes and no. I want to make a video game. What you have in this film is so powerful that I’m afraid it’s going to become one of the greatest films—perhaps of this entire era. I think we should make a series and other strong films as well. How is it possible that everything feels so real?- Billy whispered late at night. After a week of filming, everyone had entered what actors call the zone, and the work advanced without the slightest obstacle.
-We’ll sort it out, you and I.- Steven said, referring to Billy. Then he looked at the producers and offered them a somewhat bitter smile.
-Now that you have the golden insurance policy, I want you to do what I ask—give me the money for promotion. You have Mr. Carson backing you, so what more could you possibly want? Haven’t I already provided enough guarantees for you to keep that in mind?- Steven replied.
They simply nodded.
-Thank you for the work.- Mark answered. The Universal money moved quietly through strategies and necessities that ordinary people rarely noticed, yet it was precisely that hidden machinery that allowed everything to exist.
-Yes, I think I can do it.- Billy said.
-So you want to make a video game.- Steven asked, realizing how complicated, messy, and delicate the negotiations had become. Some time earlier DreamWorks had decided to open a gaming division tied to its films, but Billy had advised preparing carefully, and they had begun assembling an entire development team.
-Then we’ll do the project together.- Steven said, referring to his company.
-Together, but I keep the name. The idea is to build different games on that foundation. I’ll use D-Day as the hook for the new Lux Animation console.- Billy replied. It was a quick decision, but in his mind it carried a living, powerful idea. Later he would make another about the Russians, about the battle of Stalingrad and the crushing repression of a people who struggled to remain brave and independent.
-How many games, and what will the split be?- Steven asked.
-Hmm… keep thirty percent of the net profits, but help promote an additional team to support the development we already have at Id Software. I think it will become a trilogy. The first will deal with the First World War. It will be an expensive and long project. Then it will be Medal of Honor: World War II, covering everything from the moment the United States landed on the beaches all the way to the end of the war. After that I’ll make one beginning in Africa and another centered on the Russian front.
-I liked the storyboards very much.- Billy added.
-Scene 124. Take three.-
EXT. BRIDGEHEAD – NIGHT
Darkness. Miller, Jackson, and Forrest smear their faces with black soot. The rest of Miller’s men and several paratroopers, including Ryan, watch. Upham looks deeply distressed.
UPHAM
It was my idea, sir. You’ve got to let me go.
MILLER
Upham needs to learn the difference between whining and complaining properly. You can’t rely on whining alone. Natural talent isn’t enough—you have to study and practice.
UPHAM
But, sir…
MILLER
There you go again. That’s whining, and that won’t do.
UPHAM
Damn it, sir…
MILLER
That’s better, but you’ve still got a long way to go. Talk to Reiben—he’s got natural talent and he works at it. He’ll give you some pointers.
REIBEN
Leave him to me, Captain. I’ll make him whimper and groan with the best of us.
MILLER
See to it.
RYAN approaches Miller.
RYAN
I’d like to go, sir.
MILLER
No, soldier. I want you to stay right here.
Keep your head down. Don’t do anything brave or stupid.
REIBEN
Aren’t those the same thing, sir?
Miller smiles.
MILLER
Reiben, I don’t know what I’d do without you. Sergeant, keep Ryan close to you and keep him alive.
SARGE
Yes, sir.
Miller checks on Jackson and Forrest.
MILLER
Ready?
FORREST
Yes, sir.
JACKSON
Absolutely, sir.
Miller, Forrest, and Jackson prepare to leave.
REIBEN
(southern accent)
Y’all come back now.
JACKSON
Reiben, are you making fun of the way I talk?
REIBEN
(thick southern accent)
Hell yes!
Jackson shoots him a hard glare, then follows Miller and Forrest into the darkness. Sarge, Ryan, and the others watch them disappear.
EXT. GERMAN EIGHTY-EIGHT POSITION –
A German eighty-eight fires, sending its massive shell screaming into the night. Its eight-man crew reloads.
IN THE DARKNESS
A slight movement. It’s Miller. He crawls to the edge of the position and freezes in the shadows.
-CUT.-
...