Four weeks into the project, Ethan became Avery. Though loved by all, William Avery was a very malicious and demented man, the incarnation of evil in a gentleman’s shoes. The Jekyll and Hyde transformation was so convincing that even the cast members were awed by Ethan’s performance, some even shying away from him off camera.
The director experimented as the cast transformed the picture from a teenage horror flick into a deep, near-epic psychological thriller. Ethan was creating and bringing to the screen a new and original madman—a pathologic piece of average, middle-class America.
Ethan put himself through a myriad of versions of the human condition. He suffered through a stretch of four days without sleep to try to achieve a pure, uncluttered madness. He didn’t eat for days, and then he over-ate for days. He drank heavily for two days under doctor’s supervision in an attempt to get closer to the edge of a reality that he hoped to capture in the camera’s eye. He fought for the look and the feel of insanity, wanting to ride the lunatic fringe, if only to capture a few key moments on celluloid. He wanted to achieve believable madness by showing a man who moved seamlessly from the creature comforts of suburban life to the dark edges of evil.
He pored over books, tapes, and videos on schizophrenia, personality disorders, and psychotic neurosis—anything he could get his hands on to give him insight into the character of William Avery. A friend of the director’s even arranged visits to psychiatric wards in the Los Angeles area. Toward the end of production, Ethan was so engrossed in the project that at times he questioned his own mental state. When filming wrapped up, he was warned to get away and let Avery go.
Following the last day of filming, a small cast party was organized outside of LA, close to the director’s personal residence in Pasadena. Ethan didn’t go. Exhaustion had set in, and Cushman had booked two first-class tickets to a private resort in the British Virgin Islands. He pleaded with Ethan to get completely away for a while and clear his head. Cushman knew that big things were in the works for his future star client. He didn’t want him derailed in another actor’s psychosis of drugs and alcohol. Alcohol already was growing roots.
“Take two weeks,” Cushman had told him. “Come back if you’re itchin’ to get going, stay if you’re not, but you have to get away.” He added with a smile, “Life is about to change, my friend. Mark my words—you’ll be glad you did this.”
Three nights before the end of production, Ethan called his father. “Hey, Dad,” he said, his voice surprisingly serious and emotional, “it’s Ethan.”
“I know who it is,” his father chortled. “You’re in Hollywood, but you’re still my son. How are you?”
“Good.” Tears rolled down his cheeks. His father’s voice brought an unexpected emotional release after all Ethan had put himself through during the weeks of filming. Steve was right. The past few months had taken their toll.
“Ethan, what’s wrong?” his father asked, clearly concerned.
“What’s wrong?” Ethan repeated, regaining his control and laughing. “I’m finally living my dream. There’s no better feeling in the world.” After an extended pause at his father’s end of the phone, Ethan wiped tears from his face and said, “Seriously, I’m fine. We’re done shooting. I wondered what you were up to in the next couple of weeks.”
“Well, just wrapping up another deal with a developer in Atlanta. I’m—”
“Have you ever been to the British Virgin Islands?” Ethan interrupted, knowing his father was never too busy for anything he really wanted to do. Still, Ethan sensed his father’s hesitation. “I have in my hand two tickets to an exclusive resort in the Virgin Islands. You wanna go?”
“You want to take your old man to an exotic resort?” his father asked. Ethan could picture the smile on his father’s stoic face. “What’s wrong with you, son? Have I taught you nothing?”
Ethan laughed, “Well, I didn’t think you’d want to go, but I knew if I didn’t ask—”
“Hold the phone there, boy,” his father interrupted. “You asked. I accept. Don’t even think about retracting the offer.”
“Well, I was sure you’d be too busy,” Ethan teased. “I was asking out of politeness. I’ve already got a couple of bodacious babes waiting to go.”
“I’ll bet you have, so bring them along. I’m packing my bags.”
Chapter 52
Ethan’s Timeline
May 1992
It was difficult to fathom the beauty of the islands. They were beyond anything Ethan had ever experienced. The aquamarine water was so clear that it almost seemed like an enhanced photograph. He’d always figured publishers of vacation magazines and travel brochures airbrushed the photos to sell the dream trips. Living it was a different story.
One afternoon, Ethan and his father hiked out to the edge of a two-hundred-foot cliff overlooking a shoreline of jagged rocks and foamy sea. Even with the breeze, sweat dripped off both of them. As he stared over the side of the precipice, Ethan had to step back, as the effect of vertigo offset what the view was worth.
His father didn’t hesitate and stepped forward to take in the full expanse of land, sea, and air. “Incredible, Ethan!” his father cried, shifting slightly to his right to look back at his son. “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful. I wish I could paint.”
From Ethan’s vantage point, he couldn’t see the rocks below, but he could look out across the sparkling blue water. He knew where his father was coming from. “So why don’t you?” Ethan replied, squinting a smile into the bright sunlight.
“Maybe I will.”
Ethan laughed and turned to look at how the bluff jutted out from the coastline of the island. Stretches of long green grass separated the darker island jungle from the edge of the shore for the full distance of his sight line. “Dad,” he said, turning to look at his father, whose stare was locked far out across the sea, “what’s your best memory of me, growing up?” Ethan surprised himself with his question, not really understanding why he’d asked it.
His father stepped down from the outcropping and moved closer to his son, unable to pull his eyes from the ocean view. “Now there’s a question I can’t recall you ever asking before.”
Ethan fell back in the long grass and stretched out. His hands were behind his head. The billowing cumulus clouds overhead were like giant puffs of bleached white cotton. Watching the sky relaxed him.
“Besides the day you were born?” his father asked.
“Yeah.”
“Well, there are lots. But if I were to pick one … it was in the winter—a Saturday, I think—and you came in the house as I was coming down the front stairs. You’d been shoveling the driveway. You might have been twelve. I realized you were no longer my little guy; you were getting older. I hadn’t asked you to shovel the snow. You’d just got up, knowing the driveway had to be cleared.”
Ethan’s eyes closed as he listened to his father. “I did that?” he queried with a laugh. “Was I ill?”
His father laughed too. “You know, I was pretty sleepy that morning. I never thought to check. Imagine that, and I’ve held on to that memory all these years.”
There was a long pause where neither of them said a word; they just enjoyed the sound of wind and water.
“Another time, when you were younger, you came home from school, crying because you weren’t chosen to be the front end of the dragon for a school play. It broke my heart. I hated seeing you unhappy. The next day we found out you’d instead been chosen to play the prince. It was the lead part in the play.”
Ethan laughed again, remembering how he’d had to kiss a girl at the end of the play. He’d avoided it until the final performance in front of his parents.
There was another extended period of quiet between them. Ethan was almost asleep.
“I’m not sure how to say this, son,” his father began. Ethan could tell his father was having difficulty fin
ding the words he wanted to say. “But you’re gonna be a star. I know it like I knew you were going to be born. I hope it’s all you imagined.”
Ethan didn’t know how to reply; his father had never said anything like that to him before.
A few more minutes passed before Ethan sat up. He listened to the ocean crash against the craggy rocks below. A light breeze blew into his face. He looked over at his father and smiled.
His father embraced him for the first time in twenty years. “Ethan, I love you.”
Ethan was unable to speak as his eyes filled with tears. He hugged his father, feeling an unexpected strength come over him. For seconds they held each other and then stepped apart. Ethan wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.
“Whadaya say we go find a couple of beers?” his father was quick to say in the awkward moment that followed. “On me.”
“You’re on, old man,” Ethan replied, smiling, his cheeks shiny with tears.
“Eat my dust, sonny boy,” his father added and jogged away.
Chapter 53
Ethan’s Timeline
May 1992
Ethan stayed in the islands for two weeks. His father left after eight days. It was the best holiday his father had ever had, but he simply became too anxious about his business goings-on back home. Ethan understood the feeling. Cushman had called a dozen times, wanting him to come back. Things were heating up.
Hoping to miss the busiest part of the day, Ethan flew back on a Wednesday evening. One flight attendant said he looked familiar but couldn’t put a finger on why or where she might have seen him. It would be the last flight on which he would go unrecognized.
The jet landed at LAX without incident. Steve met him in a stretch, jet-black Lincoln Continental. They had hardly greeted one another before Steve’s mouth was exploding. Despite being the fastest talker Ethan knew, even Steve had difficulty talking fast enough to get everything out he wanted to say. His flow of words never slowed for the entire ride back to the hotel.
“There’s so much shit goin’ on, Ethan,” Steve continued as the limo swung onto the interstate. Ethan paid no attention to where they were going, excited by Steve’s excitement. “I must have a dozen scripts at the office. Things are on fire, my friend. Everyone seems to know about Browning Station. They’re already callin’ you Madman Jones. The Holiday Inn will not be your residence much longer. You’ll be living in Beverly Hills, my boy. An early fall release is in the works—definitely before year-end. It’s crazy. Talk on the town is, where have you been hiding? Lou is about ready to kill me. He can’t believe you left town. The phone’s ringing off the hook. I’ve never seen anything like it. Get ready. Your schedule’s jammed.” Ethan didn’t say a word. Steve wasn’t finished. “They also want to re-release anything else you’ve done.”
Ethan looked at Steve. “Why?” he said, the smile on his face dropped as Sven came to mind. “Why do they want to do that?”
“’Cause you’re gonna be a star, my boy!” Steve nearly screamed. Ethan was excited but something hard and uncomfortable was growing in his stomach. “Why the long face?” Steve asked, disbelief showing on his face. “You’re supposed to be jumping and popping champagne corks!”
“Steve,” Ethan said, crossing his legs, his face all seriousness, “I haven’t done anything else. You know that.”
Steve looked back at him and smiled. “Good point.”
“But I think you need to know something.” Ethan paused and then was out with it. “I’ve done porn.”
Steve winced noticeably, as if ice had been shot into his bloodstream. “What!” he exclaimed.
“I worked—” Ethan started to say.
“You never told me that.” Suddenly, a grin broke out on Steve’s face. “So you did do some character building. Well, well.” Steve seemed to relax, as if he’d thought of something else. He smiled. “Can’t be any more of that, buddy boy. Sorry, but once, in this case, is more than enough.”
“What if it gets out?” Ethan asked, concerned his success might end before it started.
“It will get out,” Steve stated, somewhat nonchalantly. “That we can count on. But something else to think about: bad publicity is better than no publicity. It even provides more back story for the idea of William Avery.” Steve thought for a moment and then added, “Royson, however, likely won’t see it that way.” Then he laughed.
“Yeah, I know,” Ethan sighed.
Steve was not about to be driven off his course. “You know how they talk,” Steve said confidently. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll figure something out. More important is what we do next. You’ve already promised Columbia two pictures, with an option on a third. Half the scripts are from them. I’m already talking with their lawyers about a new contract with new terms. There’s lots of money on the table, Eth. The time to deal is now, but let me worry about that. We have to focus our efforts on handling your next move—getting you in the right places. I must have twenty invitations on my desk for parties and special openings. The word is out!”
Ethan didn’t quite know what to say. His thoughts still were on the white sand beaches at his resort. He was experiencing what could best be described as relaxed excitement. There wasn’t a better feeling in the world. What Steve had just explained, Ethan had dreamed of for as long as he could remember.
I know you’ll be a star, Ethan Jones, whispered inside his head. They were Christa’s words. God, he missed her. Out there, somewhere, she was with him—he had comfort in that—but he missed her, desperately at times, especially now, as he became poised for success. If only he could hold her, touch her one more time, and share the moment.
“I’ve some other news,” Steve said, interrupting Ethan’s thoughts as his voice became suddenly serious and his rapid-fire speech slowed. “Robbie is … is dead.” Steve seemed to be waiting for Ethan to say something. Ethan didn’t. He hadn’t heard from Robbie in a long time. Robbie seemed to have shut himself off. Ethan knew that he had done the same. He looked at Steve to say more. “They believe he drowned, Eth. That’s what the police report said. They’d found a shirt, a pair of expensive slip-ons, and a note inside one of his shoes on a beach outside Ventura. A tourist on a morning stroll found them.” Again, Steve waited. Ethan didn’t say anything; he just stared out the window. “They haven’t recovered his body. He left a note, but the police haven’t released what was in it. They’re still searching. Foul play is not suspected. I don’t know what to say, Ethan. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, Steve,” Ethan finally replied. “I haven’t heard from Robbie in months. The police said he disappeared after questioning. With all the other shit going on, I just didn’t know what to believe. I have to keep going, or it’ll knock the shit out of me.”
“Right on, bud.”
“I’ve had a lot of time to think over the last little while. Barnes questioned me after Robbie disappeared. He asked me how close we were. At the time, I thought it was bizarre. I’d lived with the guy for years. But you know something? It fucking shocked me when I found out he was gay. I’d been his fucking roommate, for Christ’s sake, and didn’t know. Call me blind, call me naïve, call me whatever the fuck you want, but it seems really odd to me.” Ethan had no idea why, but the words just kept coming. “I think back now—in school, I never saw him with a girl, although a bunch of us hung out together.”
Silence followed. Steve broke the quiet. “Well, Eth,” he said, eager to get on with their next line of action, “right now I’d be fucking thankful for no memory at all. I met Robbie at a party a few months back, and it’s … well …” He was about to say more but thought better of it. “We’ve got a lot to do. Take these scripts back with you.” Steve handed Ethan a black athletic bag. “Go over them in the next few days and see what you think. I’ve taken the liberty of setting you up in a suite at the Four Seasons for the next two weeks—a little gift from your friendly agent. We
’ll need to get back together tomorrow and go over a few things.”
Chapter 54
Ethan’s Timeline
August 1992—Roanoke, Virginia
“Hello? Hello? You—yes, you,” Rubinstein pointed at Ethan. “Move out of the way. You’re blocking the shot!”
Ethan didn’t know where to move, but he moved anyway, angry at being singled out in front of the cast by the director. He wanted to be noticed but not that way.
“Who allowed him on the set?” Rubinstein demanded.
“He’s playing Johnson,” someone shouted out.
Ethan turned and waved to the director.
Rubinstein made eye contact with Ethan and acknowledged his wave with a slight nod. Rubinstein made sure Ethan knew he was singling him out on the set. Ethan faked a Tom Cruise smile back at the director. But Ethan was fuming. One day, he told himself, he’d eat this guy for lunch. There was no need for Rubinstein to speak to him as if he were a child.
The bushy-haired Rubinstein was respected for the remarkable pictures he created. Most actors felt it was an honor to work in his films, but it usually meant sucking up to him and putting up with his moody and emotional brutality. Rubinstein didn’t much care what he said or to whom he said it, but he did everything for a reason. Right now, Ethan didn’t much care for the man’s reputation. He was tired of the bullshit and the director’s ongoing demands.
Cushman had warned him—Rubinstein was tough and domineering. “He won’t even remember who you are,” Cushman had said, “but he will find a way to get the performance he’s after.” For Ethan, thinking of what could happen during rehearsal was usually more worrisome than the actual experience. With Rubinstein, he found the exact opposite. He could never be prepared enough. The man just thought differently, and that likely was the reason for the extraordinary performances he captured on film.
“He’ll belittle you,” Cushman cautioned, “in front of everyone. But just take it and shut up. The worst thing you can do is do battle with him. He’ll cut you down like a pig in for slaughter.”
The Actor Page 30