In the shooting that followed, a flood of action sequences appeared—Matthew's favorite territory. Whether gunfights or bare-handed brawls, he looked effortless. Compared with him, Charlize Theron ran into plenty of trouble; even after a month of professional training before cameras rolled, she couldn't match his ease.
But, like Matthew, Charlize Theron used virtually no stunt double, performing every Action Scene herself. Broad-shouldered and long-legged, she didn't look like the usual waif-thin actresses, so her fights felt convincing.
After finishing the opening scenes set in Colombia, the unit moved to another soundstage, already dressed as a furniture mall for the script's final big showdown.
The crack-crack-crack of gunfire became the norm inside this cavernous space.
Matthew took to such shooting days. Years of steady training had pushed his fighting and firearms handling close to professional level, and the stunt design reeked of Hong Kong heroic-bloodshed style.
As for Hong Kong gun-fu, having watched A Better Tomorrow and The Killer countless TIMEs, Matthew knew it backwards.
Though he'd missed the golden video-hall era, the hold those classics had over film-lovers there was something North Americans could scarcely grasp.
The film's action openly apes heroic-bloodshed, as Doug Liman personally told him.
During prep, while discussing character and script, Liman said Hong Kong shoot-outs are so elegant and romantic it's hard to believe; sometimes a life-and-death duel is settled in the TIME it takes to kick a ball, sleep, or even eat.
To balance the Smiths' marriage with their secret identities, Liman choreographed dance-like, romantic combat, letting traditional waltzes give off a bewitching romantic aura; the unorthodox fighting mirrors the couple's bristling hostility.
No question, American gunplay veers realistic, while Hong Kong heroic bloodshed leans romantic.
The prime example is John Woo; forget his Hong Kong films—even Hollywood entries like Face/Off ooze romanticism.
Take Nicolas Cage in Face/Off:
ignore the face and he's a dead-ringer American Little Brother Ma , Nickname.
Hong Kong action has deeply influenced Hollywood; Matthew's years here show that the old clumsy, straight-punch American style has virtually vanished from mainstream blockbusters.
Instead, like Liman and mr. & mrs. smith, they borrow the best Hong Kong flourishes.
Frankly, they only copy the skin, but for Hollywood that's enough.
Mainstream Hollywood absorbs anything useful yet never becomes the very thing it borrows from.
The clearest case Matthew's seen is Quentin Tarantino's Kill Bill: it looks like vintage Hong Kong chopsocky, but the soul is pure Tarantino.
mr. & mrs. smith is no different; its heroic-bloodshed homage stays on the surface.
After all, Liman directed the bourne identity—he isn't merely imitating; the core, as he told Matthew, is a story about marriage and family.
Every beat in the furniture-mall set proves it: however vicious the quarrel, the choreography shows each spouse risking life to save the other the instant danger appears.
Bang—bang—bang—
Gunfire rattled the soundstage; Charlize Theron clutched her arm and hit the deck. The shots didn't stop—pillows on the shelf above her burst, white goose-down swirling like snow.
Theron scissored her long legs, kicking backward while returning fire, scrambling behind another rack, looking a wreck.
Suddenly an engine roared; Matthew burst through a rear door on a quad-bike, one hand on the throttle, the other raising an MP5. His attackers dropped like flies.
"Get on!" he shouted to Theron.
With the enemy fire silenced, Theron sprang up, sprinted, and vaulted onto the pillion seat, yanking the gun.The Assault Rifle opened fire on the newcomers in a frenzy.
At the same TIME, the Extras playing the Armed Killers fired back. Matthew shielded Charlize Theron behind him.
The quad-bike threaded its way between containers packed with household goods and, as choreographed, stopped squarely in front of the Main Camera.
"Cut!" Director Doug Liman called, clearly pleased. "OK, that action shot is in the can!"
Unlike other directors, Doug Liman didn't hand the action sequences off to an Action Director—he shot them himself.
Just as Matthew excelled at action, Doug Liman was equally good at filming it.
Work wrapped for the day. Matthew peeled off his slightly warped Brown Sunglasses and handed them to the assistant beside him, then rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt to inspect his arm; he'd banged it on a Nightstand during the last take, but it wasn't serious.
Warner Bros. Studio's old soundstage was crammed with furniture and household goods.
Matthew knew the final showdown had been set here precisely because director Doug Liman and screenwriter Simon Kinberg wanted a visual echo of the film's internal logic.
Liman believed the volatile marriage of mr. & mrs. smith couldn't rest only on his and Charlize Theron's performances; the world around them had to hint at their conflict too, so a Furniture Mart became the perfect battleground beyond their home.
With shooting finished, Matthew collected the updated schedule from Doug Liman, skimmed it, and was about to call Charlize Theron so they could head to the make-up rooms together; their private trailers were side-by-side, so they usually left as a pair.
But today Charlize had gone without a word. As Matthew turned into the corridor outside the set, he spotted her with Stuart Townsend—he remembered Townsend had come to visit her that afternoon.
Watching their backs, a few thoughts flashed through his mind and he quickened his pace.
"Hey, Sally!" he called out.
Charlize stopped at once and looked back; Stuart Townsend halted beside her.
Matthew waved, closed the distance, and greeted Stuart first. "Hello, Townsend—long TIME no see."
A perfunctory smile cracked Stuart Townsend's cool expression. "Hello."
Matthew didn't bother saying hello to Charlize; they were too familiar for formalities.
"Something up?" Charlize asked.
"The revised shooting schedule." Matthew knew she hadn't picked hers up and handed over his copy. "Lots of changes—best read it carefully."
Charlize took it. "Sure. I was going to collect it after make-up." She smiled. "I'll go get cleaned up."
Matthew gave a slight nod. "I'll do the same."
Charlize motioned Stuart Townsend onward, and the three walked toward the trailers while Matthew and Charlize discussed how their performances should echo each other.
Between pre-production training and the shoot, they'd developed the same rapport as the script's reborn couple.
Their trailers were right next to each other. Matthew gave Charlize a casual wave, politely said goodbye to Stuart Townsend, and stepped inside.
The make-up artist was waiting. Because it was only base, Matthew was clean-faced in ten minutes.
After dismissing the artist, Matthew was heading for the wardrobe room when his phone rang; Helen Herman told him Walt Disney Pictures had faxed Angel Talent Agency, asking Matthew to attend several teen award shows at the end of July and start of August—he had to pick at least one—to help build early buzz for the pirates of the caribbean sequel.
Balancing the mr. & mrs. smith schedule with a certain girl's invitation at the Wills Gallery, Matthew and Helen Herman quickly agreed she'd tell Disney he could attend the Teen Hollywood Awards.
Those two days were slated for Charlize Theron-heavy scenes, leaving the lead actor lighter work.
Helen Herman would square the dates with production; Matthew didn't need to worry.
He hung up, changed into his own clothes, slung his bag over his shoulder, and was almost out the door when raised voices burst from Charlize Theron's trailer next door.