June 1998.
Paramount demanded—and delivered. His acting skills were unquestionable; his fa had no comparison, and when the kid grew a beard, it was a certainty that no matter what role he played, he would make it the best of all.
Tim Burton watched the latest performance again—better than the previous one. It was astonishing how he changed from the finest details; it didn’t matter how he looked, he managed to replicate the character. Billy’s acting was not the typical stunt double performance; quite the opposite—it was a soft, altered performance, sothing sensitive and sowhat feminine. When he read the smallest detail, he understood that the best way to act was to embody the character with absolute certainty.
He needed to ensure that even when people saw Irving, they would perceive an academic—cultured, handso, socially awkward, and fearful of violence, but not a coward. Reluctant toward war, yes, but the way Tim envisioned the character developing was by drawing from that simple, direct deanor of a weak man. And yet, that weak man was a product of the era he lived in.
-—I think a delicate performance works better for this character. Maybe I can handle the action scenes with cleverness, or simply distance myself by playing him like any ordinary man who just happens to be lucky.— Billy replied.
-—Good. Actually, that’s good.— Burton reasoned, now knowing that he only needed to ensure the script changes were done properly, perhaps even allowing Billy to carry out so of his improvisations. The filmography Billy had built over the last five years was enough to embarrass even the most capable actors. He managed to execute the smallest detail with skill that seed effortlessly precise; every role he took in his hands beca a simply good product. Now Burton saw the real reasons.
His sharp creativity allowed him to be both writer and actor, even with so training as a film director—but that was another story. What separated them now was ti. They needed to finish casting, with one month left before the role. All that remained was a trip to Philadelphia, because despite everything, Billy wanted to embody a role before beginning The Headless Horseman, and that role was The Sixth Sense. It was curious that the opportunity for a film two months away would arise; although he wanted the role, he knew there was an underlying agreent that would give it to Bruce Willis—sothing already set in motion. That was enough to understand that even if Billy desired it, the role felt like an illusion.
Still, it would allow him to et with Winona, who asked him to take a supporting role. He agreed, as long as they gave him a stronger part. That was still being considered in Colombia, but Billy was increasingly confident they would accept him for the role. What he had to do, then, was play his part: from an incomprehensible boyfriend to a devoted, understanding one who gives everything, only to be completely discarded by Winona in a sad way—because that makes the character realize he has sothing good and simply lets it slip away due to the tangles in his own mind.
-—I think we’re going to do a great job.— Tim sighed.
-—They’re getting more demanding with roles every day, and they want to perform magic while imposing so many restrictions.— Tim replied, pulling a packet of gummy candies from his pocket and tasting one. Now he didn’t care if they were demanding; he just wanted to make the film, even if it ended up contaminated by all his good or bad ideas.
-—It’s normal for them to spit in your face.— Billy comnted, extending Jim’s card. —If you want, you can pitch your scripts at my company. Even if it seems a bit neglected right now, keep in mind that in the coming years you’ll make great films.—
Always a face behind the shadows, the director thought. He seed like a producer—he wasn’t entirely sure. Everything was very confidential when it ca to Lux Animation. People and newspapers criticized them, but they always kept silent.
-—Everyone starts like you, kid, and then they limit .— Tim replied, sowhat anxious about what was expected of him.
-—I’ll make money—and I already have plenty.— Billy said with a laugh.
-—It’s almost like… billions.— Tim replied.
-—I can tell you that as long as I do good work, money doesn’t matter. Or how do you think I make money?— Billy said.
-—Fair enough. Maybe I’ll co by with a few ideas.—
As they moved on, Billy decided it was ti to push the production forward. He wanted to do it, and if he did, it was everything he could ask for.
-—I might have a suggestion for the lead actress. I watched the tapes, and she seems to fit the whole aesthetic.— Billy comnted, handing over the recomndation in a folder. —Well, there are three, but I think Cristina is the most interesting. Innocence has to co in layers—a person who truly loves Irving. Sohow she must reflect that clean, genuine goodness.—
-—Alright, alright. We’ll start in August then. I hope winter doesn’t arrive early and that we can finish properly and seal the deal.— Tim said, now scrutinizing every word.
-—I hope so too. I’ll take so ti to wrap up a project I’m part of.— Billy replied with a hint of impatience, and understandably so. He still needed to finish the Star Wars miniseries, which had already recorded a run of twenty episodes over the past months. Maybe afterward the lens would take longer to roll.
The following month he would dedicate to recording his voice—it was undoubtedly the next role, as he was voicing Aslan in Narnia, and the rest was simply history. A void made so ti could take its place. He had missed the train for the Robots production, which even without him perford well, earning 340 million dollars worldwide—driving another thorn into Disney’s bark.
Tin Soldier and Narnia were the only paths left for the next thirty days. Because if you’re a professional, you can perform a role as many tis as you want—in less than four days, the lines fall into place when you understand the value of soone capable of doing sothing good in under twenty minutes.
He would also cover voice work for Finding Nemo, Cars, and perhaps even appear as a villain in the One Piece film series, which grew more extravagant and rough by the day—but still, it was good.
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