At the start of the year, Summit Entertainment accepted a suggestion from renowned producer Akiva Goldsman.
Before Matthew could ask, Helen Herman explained, "They bought the master's thesis film Simon Kinberg made while at Columbia University's Film Academy, and they're going to turn it into an assassin-gun-battle action movie."
She looked at Matthew. "You've been visiting the Gun Club a lot lately, and you trained in tactical moves on the sets of band of brothers and black hawk down."
"I go there often, and I'm a good shot," Matthew boasted before asking, "Akiva Goldsman? The name sounds familiar."
"Famous writer and producer," Helen answered briefly. "He doesn't have Sean's reputation as a producer, but he's a top-tier screenwriter in Hollywood. A TIME to Kill, Lost in Space, and A Beautiful Mind are all his scripts. A Beautiful Mind won him an Oscar for Best Screenwriter. The script for the big summer release I, Robot doesn't use Asimov's original but his rewrite, though he's uncredited."
After hearing this, Matthew understood that Akiva Goldsman is a Hollywood success story.
In Hollywood, the belief is that if someone keeps succeeding, their next project is less risky.
"Anything more specific?" Matthew asked.
Helen nodded. "Summit has been planning since mid-January. Akiva is producing, with a budget of $100 million. They plan to hire proven stars for director and lead. Last week he locked in Doug Liman, who did the bourne identity."
On paper, the project sounded bulletproof: Oscar-winner Akiva, box-office hit director Doug Liman, and $100 million.
All these factors minimize the risk of failure.
The Crew is already formed and prepping. Akiva, Simon, and Doug are still polishing the script, but no later than June they'll open casting for the leads.
Matthew looked at Helen.
"Open casting?"
"Exactly," she confirmed. "They'll look at type, stature, draw, recent box-office history, and suitability for action."
"That's fierce competition," Matthew murmured.
"Akiva is friends with my father, so I know him well," Helen said calmly. "They won't release the news until May."
She looked at him. "I'll reach out to Akiva to see if we can get the script early so we can assess the risk."
A role might look good on paper, but until you see the script and the character, you can't be sure it fits.
Matthew understood this was preparation for the fight ahead. If he wanted the role, his connection to Akiva through Helen's father was a plus.
Helen spoke again. "I'm just giving you a heads-up. When I have firm news, we'll talk. Keep practicing with guns; it's an edge."
Matthew nodded. "I will."
For now, it was just interest. The Crew looks solid, but there's little else yet.
At this point, he has to be careful. As his Agent, Helen sifts through projects, eliminating the risky or ill-fitting, and only brings the promising ones to him.
He's too busy to sort through every Hollywood production; that's the Agent's job, filtering out potential flops.
When an actor gets hot, especially after a hit, offers pour in, as happened to Matthew.
For example, Dimension Films sent an invitation. Director Robert Rodriguez wanted him for sin city, but after discussion Matthew and Helen were wary of Rodriguez's B-movie style and politely declined the audition.
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Matthew hadn't seen the film, but after arriving here he watched El Mariachi and From Dusk Till Dawn; frankly, Robert Rodriguez's style is far more off-beat than dawn of the dead.
Strictly speaking, zombie films aren't mainstream blockbusters, yet they've spawned a huge pop-culture following and aren't exactly fringe. Rodriguez's two movies, however, feel like low-budget grindhouse flicks from the sixties and seventies, crammed with random elements and zero regard for logic—whatever shocks, goes.
From Dusk Till Dawn in particular was so out-there that it left Matthew, watching on VHS, slack-jawed. The first half is a squeaky-clean Western-cum-road movie: Clooney's big brother and Tarantino's sidekick are a pair of psycho killers straight out of Natural Born Killers. Once they cross into Mexico, though, the film dives head-first into local mysticism without warning, turning into a wild stew of sex, violence, vampires, zombies, and geysers of blood—so abrupt all you can do is stare in disbelief. After the credits rolled, Matthew actually sighed with relief that Tarantino and Rodriguez had chosen filmmaking; otherwise the world might have gained two real-life maniacs.
Sure, their movies are a thrill ride, but both Matthew and Helen Herman agreed they weren't his lane. Starring in a textbook B-movie wouldn't boost his career, and if it flopped it would drag him down—risk far outweighing reward.
Matthew knew he was only a second-tier star; he couldn't afford a bomb. This wasn't the moment to indulge his personal tastes.
Later, Helen Herman went over the fallout from hyping him alongside Scarlett Johansson. The stunt doubled his exposure overnight, but negative buzz came with it.
Rumors began circulating—Matthew's reckless, a womanizer, the usual tabloid noise.
He shrugged it off. Hollywood has its good guys, yet most leading men are players.
He had no plans for a serious girlfriend right now. If someone special appeared later, he'd chase her the way he'd once chased Britney.
In this chaotic circus, nothing about love comes with guarantees.
Helen added that she'd try to invite Akiva Goldsman and Doug Liman to the dawn of the dead premiere; the film shows Matthew mowing down zombies and blasting away—exactly the kind of spectacle that might hook them.
Details on Akiva's shoot-'em-up project were still scarce, but groundwork never hurts.
Helen could be this bold only because she believed in the movie.
Ever since the Oscar ceremony, Universal Pictures has run more than five test screenings for dawn of the dead—press, critics, industry vets, and select fans—and the feedback has been overwhelmingly positive.
Rotten Tomatoes even lifted its embargo early: of 46 advance reviews, seventy-nine percent were positive, the average score hit 7.5, and the Popcornmeter stood at eighty percent.
For a non-mainstream zombie flick, that's stellar word of mouth.
Test audiences especially loved Matthew's lead turn, saying it captured both human resilience and raw masculinity.
Of course Helen had ammunition before she started handing out invitations.
Still, the film carried some bad press.
The producer of the original dawn of the dead walked out of a test screening and declared he hated the new cut.
'I worked on early prep for Zack Snyder's remake. These zombies move too fast and lack character. I remember George spending ages turning supporting ghouls into performers—nurse zombie, baseball zombie, zombies you could tell apart. They weren't background props. In this new version they exist only to prop up the hero, Matthew Horner. That kills the very charm of zombie cinema.'
True, the undead here aren't the shambling sort; they're faster and far more dangerous.
TIMEs change, and movies change with them—stay static and you die.
George A. Romero, the soul of the living-dead trilogy, also refused to attend this dawn of the dead premiere.
None of that helps.
Yet no matter how much the old guard scoffs, the new dawn of the dead opened right on schedule in mid-March.