Something of Himself

Watch out for Leonardo DiCaprio? Adrian wasn't sure what Weinstein meant. Was losing a role enough to make the man come after him?

He had heard stories about DiCaprio's temper. There was even a story that, after missing out on an acting nomination for Titanic, he had refused to attend the Oscars and ended up on the Academy's blacklist.

That last part was only hearsay. Still, people described him as headstrong and quick-tempered when he was younger. He had since worked with major figures: Steven Spielberg, Tom Hanks, and now Scorsese. Surely some of that experience should have made a difference.

Then again, Adrian wasn't Hanks. If DiCaprio really did decide to set aside professional courtesy, it was hard to say what might happen.

He wanted to ask Weinstein more, but the producer had already walked away. Then another complication occurred to him: Gisele Bundchen.

When Adrian had recruited her to host America's Next Top Model, their dealings had gone beyond business. She had still been seeing DiCaprio then. The press kept reporting on that relationship, but neither had publicly acknowledged it.

Adrian and Gisele's private involvement had continued under those circumstances. Then America's Next Top Model aired on UPN, won strong ratings, and became a talking point. Its popular host had gained another level of recognition. After that, Gisele broke up with DiCaprio.

Adriana had told him about the breakup. Gisele clearly knew how to play a part and use a connection to her advantage, he thought. If DiCaprio learned the whole story, he might blame Adrian whether or not Adrian considered it his fault.

Another man had supposedly taken his girlfriend. Not that it was quite like that. Gisele had made her own choice.

Now the same man had taken an important role. Adrian had seen what Hughes could offer an actor. DiCaprio must have seen it too; otherwise, why fight so hard for the part?

Seen that way, it wasn't difficult to understand why he might want to get even.

Adrian shrugged and began to worry less. He was making Scorsese's film. DiCaprio would have to be an idiot to cause trouble now and imagine the director wouldn't learn why. A few petty tricks were more likely, the sort New Line had tried. That raised another possibility: perhaps he, rather than Nicole, had been encouraging the stories about Adrian using a famous actress to promote himself. Nicole was involved in the story too, whatever else was true.

The future could wait. If Adrian built a strong enough position, he wouldn't need to fear every rival. He should find time to ask his accountant for a proper assessment of his net worth.

Frederick reached him while he was still thinking. "Hey, Adrian. Guess what I've brought."

"A Texas beef burger? A fancy shirt flown in from Paris?"

"Neither." Frederick shrugged. "A contract. A film contract."

"A film contract? We've barely started shooting this one..." Adrian stopped. "Universal agreed?"

"Of course. They couldn't find an actor with more momentum than you have right now. Diesel doesn't quite match it." The agent sounded distinctly pleased. "They couldn't have both of you. They compared the options and let Diesel go. They agreed to the fee I asked for too."

"Eight million?" Adrian raised an eyebrow.

"Eight million." Frederick laughed. "Not bad, is it?"

"Not bad. But I named those terms mostly to turn them down, not because I particularly wanted the film." Adrian frowned.

Frederick immediately looked worried. "Wait. Don't tell me you're backing out after they've agreed to the money and moved the start to November."

"The script isn't very good. You've read it. It's practically a new story. Apart from Brian O'Conner, there's hardly anything connecting it to the first film."

"So what?" Frederick asked. "People go to these films for the racing, for the adrenaline. If it gets them excited, why does it need to follow the first story closely?"

"It still needs a good story. Effects can be exciting too, but a film that's nothing but effects gets old fast. Universal also wanted it out next June. That makes the schedule tight, and we don't know what else I'll be doing after November."

"They've moved the release to August." Frederick clearly wanted him to say yes. "Listen. You need a big film you can carry on your own, one that does well. You've had hits, but look at them. The Talented Mr. Ripley had Gwyneth and Jude. Ocean's Eleven was built around George and Brad. You were the villain in The Italian Job. Cold Mountain has both you and Nicole."

He emphasized the point. "You've never led a big production where you're the whole focus, where every scene and every part of the story comes back to you. The Fast and the Furious sequel is that kind of film."

"I have carried a successful film, Fred. Have you forgotten Phone Booth?"

"A budget a little over ten million and a hundred million worldwide?" Frederick gave a short snort. "I'm talking about a big production. Big."

He spread his arms. "If the budget doesn't pass a hundred million, it should at least get close. Forget worldwide for a moment. It should make a hundred million in North America alone. You want to be a major star, somebody with both acting credibility and commercial value? You need a film like that."

Adrian was beginning to listen. Frederick had a point. Recognition and commercial value both mattered. Few actors truly commanded both. Hanks did. Nicholson did. There were others, but even being generous, the list was only in the double digits. Sacrificing his box-office appeal for awards wouldn't be a good trade. Yet there were few commercial films that would also show his abilities without obstructing his pursuit of serious recognition. He had to choose carefully, even if that meant passing up likely hits.

Frederick saw him hesitate and pressed on. "The first film made about a hundred and forty million domestically. Keep the quality up and the second should do well too. More importantly, all the attention will be on you. Don't worry so much about filming. It's a straight commercial picture. You won't need to put the same weight into every scene as you do here. Barring a major problem, two months should be enough."

"The domestic gross will drop," Adrian said. "The first film didn't do that well on quality alone. Diesel brought an audience, and so did I. Without him, or Jordana, there's no guarantee it'll make the number you want."

Then he changed direction. "But if they're willing to meet my terms, we can try it."

Frederick had looked ready to put his face in his hands. Now he beamed. "Good. I'll tell Universal."

"Make sure the dates work, Fred. Commercial film or not, I'll need time to prepare. The Aviator is almost entirely from Hughes's perspective, so I won't have much room to get away. I don't want to wrap here and be expected on their set the next day. And until the second film is finished, we aren't discussing a third or fourth."

"No problem. I'll take care of it." Frederick was still smiling.

Adrian watched him leave. Universal had made a genuine effort. They had originally wanted to start in September and release the film the following June. Now they were offering a November start, an August release, and eight million dollars. After concessions like that, he could hardly dismiss them without a thought.

It was almost a fresh story. Even if the films became a series, there wasn't much continuing plot to trap him. A third or fourth, if there were any, was another matter. He would rather leave those alone.

The contract was only a distraction from his present job. The press could keep talking about his love life. He still had women to worry about, and plenty of planning to do for his career. Right now, though, he had one responsibility: play Hughes well. He had prepared too much, and beaten DiCaprio to the role, to disappoint the people watching him. Worse, he would disappoint himself.

Fortunately, Cate wasn't in the current soundstage scenes. He could work without the same restraint. His performance in the aircraft-factory sequences had been solid. Then came the ballroom scenes, and people began to praise him.

The explanation was simple. Some of it was the work he had put in. Some of it was his own experience. Playing a playboy didn't require him to invent everything.