‘There are some crazy people out there, Daniel,’ he said in his booming voice when I first met him. ‘You don’t wanna end up like John Lennon. You need protection.’
Frankly, I thought Noland’s insistence that I have a bodyguard at that early stage in my career was ridiculous. But I couldn’t complain too much. Jonathon drove me around in his Mercedes-Benz SE Coupe when I needed to go somewhere. I grew accustomed to the sight of him handling the big, pillarless vehicle.
The publicity people gave me an image and I had to maintain it. In short, I had to become Dean Mathis, even in public. At the time, I wasn’t afraid of being typecast. Lapped it all up. But I grew aware of people trying to change me so, to counter the metamorphosis, I emphasized my Cardiff accent, especially in interviews. Caused a stir one evening by requesting a cheap lager at a formal dinner party. I’d been surrounded by wine connoisseurs smoking fat cigars, talking about automobiles and polo, which felt uber-pretentious. I’d been raised by a mother who’d always taught me to keep my feet on the ground. As much as I enjoyed the elegance involved in attending dinner parties, some of the guests were fucking irritating. But I had to associate myself with those people. They knew the film and writing industries as well as their vintage wines. So, I found myself sitting next to crusty literary critics, art gallery addicts and parochial producers. Overall, a great variety of bores, coxcombical codgers and alliterative arse-holes.
The Mathis movies were made at the rate of one per year. I was soon waving goodbye to the dinner parties and hello again to scratches and bruises. The second Mathis movie,
Skylark
, put me through more physical hell than the first but, ironically, there were less action sequences. The main bulk of the movie took place on an airplane. A simple plot involving high profile terrorists kidnapping the passengers, including the Prime Minister’s daughter, in exchange for a full pardon of all their previous crimes. Unfortunately for them, Mathis is on board and severely pissed off that his journey has been delayed. The climax involves a massive fight sequence, which took a whole month to shoot. It started in the cockpit, ended on top of the plane, and was the most violent fight scene I’d ever seen on the big screen.
I flew high at that time. My acting performances had improved. I understood Dean Mathis and how his mind worked. Noland and I got on really well. He was a superb director and producer. He understood how an actor’s mind operated.
‘You’re very down to Earth,’ he said, as we watched a scene on the monitor. ‘You’re very Welsh. Very real. Don’t ever forget your roots.’
‘Haven’t even dyed my hair…’ I grinned awkwardly.
Noland knew how important it was for me to maintain my identity.
‘I reckon you’ll get better and better in this role. You’re starting to feel around now and grasp different themes that make these movies what they are. I can see you really developing this character and it wouldn’t surprise me if, in your last Mathis movie, which I hope won’t be any time soon, your portrayal has developed significantly.’
‘Thank you.’
I wasn’t sure how much my portrayal of Dean Mathis could develop. The proficient detective was a blunt weapon, out there to get revenge and restore justice to society. Mathis would undoubtedly adapt. But I couldn’t foresee him changing much, offering too many emotional avenues for an actor to pursue.
A fear slowly fermented inside me. Despite the elegant parties, the avid fans and the critical esteem, I worried that fame wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. For all I knew, it could be more dangerous than any of the super villains Mathis encountered. It could change me.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
A Regular Saint George
I’d become a household name. Earned money I’d never in a million years imagine wou
ld make it into my bank account - from movies and promotions. Possessed the face of moisturizing brands, while my wrist showed off the world’s most beautiful watches. When I wasn’t filming I was generally promoting in some capacity. Most importantly though, I grew more comfortable with each new acting performance.
The second Mathis movie bettered the first, and the third movie bettered both of them put together. Both critically and financially. The second most successful movie of the year, just a few million behind some animated wank about penguins that did very well in the States. I’d become synonymous with the role. Children acted confused if I signed autographs with my real name. But that wasn’t a big deal at the time.
The third Mathis movie,
Cold Dish
, had darker undertones than the others. I juxtaposed Mathis’s broodiness with his dry humor, which made me feel really comfortable with the role and the direction that the movie took. It remains my favorite of the series, wonderfully written and directed, with realistic villains and explosive action sequences. The plot was complex, involving moles in MI5, MI6 and at the head of the Metropolitan Police Service. A group of mercenaries calling themselves ‘The Engines of War’ attempt to take over Britain and form a neo-Fascist government. An attack on New Scotland Yard is at the heart of the picture, in scenes featuring more heavy artillery than I’d seen in any Sylvester Stallone movie. This attack culminates in a duel under hammering rain between Mathis and the primary antagonist Robert Dalton, atop the Empress State Building in London.
‘It’s gonna be over to you for the next one,’ Noland told me when filming wrapped.
‘How do you mean?’
‘I’m looking for another director. I’ve helped to guide you in this role, but you know the character like the back of your hand now.’
‘Thank you, matey.’ I smiled. ‘If it wasn’t for you…’
‘Listen, you’re a star. You were born to be a star. I’m happy I’ve had the opportunity to work with you. I’m staying on as producer, but I think it’s time for these movies to change stylistically.’
‘Coolio. You’re the boss!’ I laughed.
Lauren and I bought a new house after I received my paycheque for that movie. Our Spanish residence was located on the coast, in Marbella. It had a beautiful Sevillian style façade, six bedrooms, a screening room and a bar. We loved it there. So far removed from our flat in Cardiff, and yet so homely. Whenever there was any free time, I liked to lie on the beach and watch the waves brush against the shore.
I slouched in front of the sea, under a cloudless morning sky as picturesque as a child’s crayoned drawing of a perfect day. The water glistened, ignited by the beams of a billion blue-white diamonds. I let the yellow sand sift through my fingers as the cool, salty breeze whisked my hair. Lauren crouched down behind me, resting her arms on my shoulders.
‘How’s my little hero?’ she asked.
‘Eh, what’s that? Sounds like a euphemism.’
‘I’ve just read a newspaper article describing you as “A hero to your thousands of fans”,’ she said, a hint of playful mockery in her voice.
‘Never mind the fans. I just wanna be your hero, Enrique Iglesias style!’
‘Of course you’re a hero to me, babes. Look at what you’ve brought us, what you’ve worked so hard to achieve. It’s beautiful here.’
‘You’re beautiful.’
‘And you’re my Saint George.’
‘So that makes you the King’s daughter.’
‘And you’ve saved me from the nasty dragon.’
I snorted.
‘Why are you laughing?’ she asked.
‘I’m as far removed from the patron saint of England as possible!’
‘But you’re still a hero.’
‘I play a hero,’ I said in a mock teacher-like tone. ‘That doesn’t mean I’m a hero myself.’
‘Well, you’re
my
hero.’ She stroked my earlobes. ‘
Je t’aime
.’
‘Soppy cow!’
‘Must be the temperature. Brings it out in me!’
I pressed her against the sand as she unbuttoned my white cotton shirt.
‘My gorgeous man.’ She ran her fingers down my bronzed chest. ‘You don’t have any dragons to take care of now. You’ve conquered them all.’
‘I haven’t quite conquered you yet.’
‘Really?’ She winked.
‘You’re indomitable.’
‘Let’s go for a swim.’ Lauren got to her feet and took my hand.
‘I don’t know about that…’
She raised her finger to her lips and told me to hush.
‘I’m not going in clothed,’ I said.
‘Of course not.’ She removed my trousers.
‘Not so
little
hero now, huh?’ Naked under the golden tresses of sunshine, we held hands and walked into the sea. Then we embraced as the cool water caressed our skins.
*
There was a three-year interval between my third and fourth Mathis movie. Noland decided a gap would do the series good. During that period, I wrote a light comedy novel called
Welsh Cakes
. I enjoyed the process of creating it while in my study room, in Marbella. I liked to lock myself away from society for a while, leaving the room only on occasions, to take a stroll on the beach. The novel, inspired by the simple folk of
Llareggub
in Dylan Thomas’s radio drama
Under Milk Wood
, is about life in a neighborhood, Lansdowne, in Cardiff. Kids playing. Adults complaining. The drunken student pissing on his neighbor’s rose bushes each night. No real plot. Just a fragment of reality. It did well enough anyway, especially with e-book sales, and it was nice testing my comic abilities.
The powers governing my career (my agent) advised me to do another action flick during my break from the Mathis pictures. I fancied doing something different but ended up filming
Osiris
. I played a space hero, not unlike Mathis in his ability to kill in cold blood without compunction. The movie made a wad of cash, but I wanted the freedom to play other kinds of roles. The plot involved an alien demigod known as ‘The lord of silence’ attempting to make the sun implode or something. I forget. Blocked most of it out of my memory.
Lauren spent many of her days shopping or being pampered. She certainly basked in our newfound wealth, but I saw it as just a bonus. I wanted to live forever and money couldn’t do that. Fame could, but there were varying degrees of fame. I was obligated to have photographs taken of me, to embrace my fans. But I wanted my fame to transcend the tabloid press, to be remembered long after I’d parted from the world. That was the only achievable kind of immortality.
Dean Mathis had made me. I would never knock the role. But my fourth movie was a very dull affair.
Tooth For Tooth
just wasn’t comparable to the first three. The new director David Guild definitely knew what he was doing. But the film lacked something. The script didn’t have a real plotline, the editing was erratic and the writers had introduced obvious humor. Maybe I was also at fault. I’d become bored of playing heroes. I wanted to move on.
The movie bombed at the box-office. Critics complained that the humor detracted from the protagonist and action had taken over the plot. Mathis had lost his brutality. It didn’t help that Noland opted for what most Boyle fans regard as the author’s weakest work,
My Brother’s Keeper
, for the plot. A brainless nuclear bomb threat, Mathis in a clichéd race against time to prevent detonation, that sort of thing. Not much to elaborate on plot-wise really. ‘The Engines of War’ hold the threat of nuclear destruction over Western civilization and Mathis must stop them in a series of poorly written quips and bumbling situations. I felt very restricted. Knew I’d have to leave the series soon. It sounds pretentious, but artistic integrity was invaluable to me.