Hearing Orlando Bloom's words, Matthew thought for a moment and put on a lofty air. "Faith can send thousands of people charging with AK-47s, spraying bullets everywhere—tell me, which is more powerful?"
A crew member came over to announce the shuttle back to the hotel had arrived. Matthew and the others stopped watching and headed back to enjoy the air-conditioning, but once at the hotel they skipped rest and went straight to the second-floor bar, where Orlando Bloom bought drinks for Matthew, Ben Foster, and James McAvoy.
Inside the bar all three ordered low-proof cocktails—after all, they were still in the middle of filming.
"I'm leaving Morocco tomorrow," Orlando Bloom said, setting down his glass. "I probably won't be back until January next year."
James McAvoy raised his glass. "Safe travels."
Ben Foster added, "Orlando, safe travels!"
Matthew lifted his glass as well. "Safe travels."
The three drained their drinks, chatted a little longer, then called it a night—work was waiting tomorrow.
Throughout November and the first half of December, Matthew stayed in Morocco shooting combat scenes. Some battles looked simple on paper but turned into a circus on set, especially whenever the locally hired Black extras shared the frame—they'd steal the spotlight from the American Soldiers with goofy faces, silly grins, and mesmerizing poses, forcing the shoot to stop.
Sometimes Matthew felt these guys were born comedians—just aimed at the wrong career.
Yet when it came to that soul-stirring "spray-and-pray" style of shooting, the Black extras were naturals, as if genetically gifted at striking such cool combat poses.
In the source novel he'd read, American troops had a saying about African militias: "Don't worry, their aim is hilariously awful—just watch out for flying rocks." Add the notorious recoil of the AK-47 and Type-56 Submachine Guns widely used in Africa, and the results were predictably tragic.
Take this battle, for example.
Roughly 160 American Soldiers were surrounded by four thousand militants. After a day-long firefight, the U.S. lost 19 killed and 70 wounded, while Somali losses topped a thousand. Outnumbered Americans held out thanks to superior gear and individual skill—plus a big assist from the African uncles' marksmanship.
In mid-December, Matthew got a call from Helen Herman: she'd visit the set before Christmas.
That counted as good news; for six weeks, apart from one day off per week, it had been nonstop filming. War sequences were shot again and again for maddening reasons, leaving everyone drained.
Ben Foster once suggested they go find some girls, but Matthew and James McAvoy shot him down—this was Africa; no one wanted to fly home with a souvenir disease. Better stay disciplined.
As for in-house options, forget it. You could count the women flown in from North America on two hands—half over forty, the other half… best not mentioned.
Among the local extras there were plenty of women, but all were Black locals; better safe than sorry.
As shooting progressed, Matthew wound up in scenes with Jonny Lee Miller. With Ridley Scott on set, both stayed restrained—aside from work, they met privately only once.
Jonny Lee Miller asked for the videotape again; Matthew stalled, claiming his girlfriend wasn't in Los Angeles yet, swearing he'd return it once they were both back in L.A.
After wrap they'd go their separate ways—Jonny Lee Miller couldn't chase him every day for a nonexistent tape, and he couldn't tell anyone about it anyway.
In December, at a press event staged by the publicity team, they floated a piece of fake news.
One of the actors playing Rangers received an anonymous letter at the hotel, thanking the crew for their efforts and urging them to portray the battle truthfully—signed "All the Rangers who died in action."
The letter and its recipient naturally appeared at the press conference and were picked up by media outlets—not just entertainment news but serious current-affairs pages as well.
The production pulled off an early publicity stunt, alerting many to the fact that black hawk down was in production.
Whether the sender was really an ex-Ranger, nobody cared.
Tight schedule, heavy workload, constant hiccups with extras—the shoot was anything but smooth, even running slightly behind, which kept Matthew stuck in Morocco.
Toward late December, someone finally came to visit.
"Ah, Helen…"
In the hotel restaurant, seeing Helen Herman in a business suit, Matthew felt an unexpected warmth. "I'm so glad to see you."
The previous week, James McAvoy and Ben Foster had also wrapped and left the set.
"You look good." Helen Herman pointed to the chair opposite. "Sit!" Once Matthew sat, she added, "Your spirits seem high."
She pushed the menu toward him. Matthew didn't stand on ceremony, flipping through as he spoke, "Haven't you heard? It's called finding joy in misery; otherwise, in a god-forsaken desert like this, you'd go crazy."
Helen Herman sized him up. "You've grown a beard—looks more mature."
Matthew stroked the full beard he'd cultivated. "Needed for filming."
He wasn't even allowed to groom it himself; once it grew out he had to let the Stylist trim it.
Knowing the way sets worked, Helen said, "Order whatever you like—it's on me."
She could see her client had lost weight and tanned since the mummy returns.
Matthew had rushed straight from set without lunch; when the server arrived he ordered several meat dishes, mostly mid-to-high priced items, showing Helen Herman no false modesty.
After ordering for herself, Helen asked off-handedly, "Shooting going smoothly?"
"Mostly, though the extras are a headache." Matthew rubbed his temples. "Nowadays the sight of a Black extra holding a gun feels like it could push me over the edge."
"You can say that to me," Helen Herman warned, "but don't spout it outside—it'll bring trouble."
Matthew lowered his hand, took a sip of water. "I know. That's why I've barely spoken to anyone all week. I'm just venting to you—can't exactly complain to Ridley Scott, can I?"
Helen Herman suddenly shifted topics. "Your girlfriend hasn't visited?"
"Nope." Matthew shook his head. "She's recording her second album—busier than I am."
He added, "Don't worry, we call every day; the relationship's rock solid."
Servers began bringing the dishes and Matthew fell silent, attacking the food single-mindedly; he was starving. Shooting in Africa couldn't compare with the U.K.—the catering standard wasn't low, but sometimes the dishes just didn't suit his palate.
Half full, Matthew looked up. "Helen, you didn't come just to see me, did you?"
Knowing her, dropping by was incidental; work was the real reason.
"I had business in the U.K.," Helen Herman said bluntly. "Thought North Africa wasn't far, so I swung by. There are a few work matters to discuss."
Matthew spread his hands. "Knew it."
Ignoring him, she got down to business. "DreamWorks and HBO have locked band of brothers for next spring. They're planning a premiere on Utah Beach in Normandy, inviting a lot of 101st Airborne veterans."
Matthew perked up. "Am I on the guest list?"
"Of course." Helen set down her fork, dabbed her mouth. "The production sent a formal invitation to the Burbank office; I'll give it to you when you're back."
Relieved, Matthew said casually, "No rush."
Helen pressed on. "the mummy returns also has its release date."
"Really?" Matthew had been hoping it would open soon. "When? Next summer?"
"Exactly, summer slot." Helen didn't need to think. "North America, May 4. Global premiere late April. Per your contract you must attend."
Matthew answered instantly, "Absolutely! Wouldn't miss it!"
Only an idiot would skip such a chance.
"One more thing." Helen had plenty on her plate. "Universal wants you on the pre-release promo circuit; they'll notify us ten days ahead which shows you'll do."
"No problem." Matthew knew every appearance boosted his profile. "Work the schedule for me."
About eighty percent full, he set down his cutlery, content after the meal and the string of good news Helen had brought.
Next spring and summer, two projects he featured in would hit screens; maybe that would make him a bona-fide Hollywood Star. Who enters this business without dreaming of fame? Maybe a handful—one in a thousand.
"Last item." Helen spoke again. "I heard last month Jerry Bruckheimer met several times with Disney Pictures and Disney Group brass. Word is they're developing a new project—reliable sources say it could be a film tied to Disneyland."