Rolling into the Mainstream

By mid-March 2002, Memento had quietly snaked its way through the U.S. city by city, from Portland to Austin to New York. What had begun modestly as a limited platform release had steadily puffed up into expanded theatrical play, and Harry's role—originally relegated to production notes and sell-through returns—now included conference calls with Fox Distribution execs, weekly box office-tracking emails and the occasional, satisfying text from Gregory: "Momentum's legit." 

Late one afternoon at a café in Beverly Hills, James Miller brought Harry a fresh-glazed croissant and the latest report. "Weekend numbers are in," James says, sliding a printout across the laminated table.

"Opening in ten more cities earned $1.3 million for the three-day weekend, so we're at about $7.1 million domestically, and don't forget that was with a $5 million production budget," James put in. 

Harry fixed James with a thoughtful frown. "I see. So we enter the range of profitability before DVD and international sales."

James nodded. "That's right. Marketing is still in play. Tuesdays and Wednesdays do drop about 20 percent, but weekend numbers still average about $1,000 per screen. Film critic consensus is building."

Harry tapped his finger on the croissant's flaky surface. "Gregory's scouting crew for Providence?"

"He's talking to Canadian DPs and local casting directors tomorrow," James confirmed. "He said he'd like to use people who aren't household names yet."

Harry chewed thoughtfully. "I'll pull together potential storyboards when I return tonight. And assemble a short casting wish list—lean toward emerging talent."

-----

That night in Harry's screened study overlooking his Berkeley Hills home, he played the trailer of Memento back on his laptop. He thought about narrative structure, character depth, shot composition—and then the blank pad sitting on his desk. He rifled through the actors' headshots James just dropped off.

He popped names into the night: Cillian Murphy, still a little under the radar since Disco Pigs. Christian Bale, prior to Batman Begins—an intense actor with range. Jake Gyllenhaal, with tone-rich eyes even in secondary parts. Ryan Gosling, with an impressive debut, stealing scenes in indie dramas. And a few bleary-eyed character actors from the UK, unknown and underdeveloped.

He had no illusions. They were not stars—not yet, anyway. But they might be able to carry a story tied closely to human experience, vulnerability, paranoia. He took notes: 'Journalist. Mid-thirties. Kind eyes, tired.' 'Church figure—40s. Quiet intensity.' 'Silhouette roles. Reveal based on non-linear exposition.'

He thought about the elusive presence of Providence, the cycle of darkness that encased small-town Rhode Island, and how the act of casting bodies could be the glue that held the suspension of disbelief together.

A known face might bring an audience—which could simultaneously subvert the flavor of the unknown with the gail expectations of those faces. An unknown might bring life to edges raw enough to resemble an authentic experience.

For the next days, Harry's calendar balanced out as follows, Memento calls mixed with Providence:

9 a.m.: Fox Countrywide Screening Breakdowns (they were doing mid-week test runs in 50 screens)

1 p.m.: Talk with Gregory, going through pages of draft story boards and pre-vis sketches.

4 p.m.: Quick call with Lisa about Sparky's chewing on furniture.

He rarely saw things as perfect as that. It wasn't that Providence was a true work of art in waiting; it was a work of trust and possibility, and if he didn't prepare, it might fall flat on its face.

One night, Gregory interrupted him on a call.

"Are you good?" Gregory asked. "I found a cinematographer who is familiar with Canadian locations. He shot the Sweet Hereafter spin-off last year - yes, it was low-order - yes, it was evocative. We also found a church in Newfoundland and a real 1930s courthouse in Rhode Island. I can get us bunches of shots, with even fog thrown in."

Harry nodded hesitantly. "Great. Your priorities are the shooting dates and cast availabilities. I will sort all the sketchboard sequences - opening sequence in providence with voiced narration from a journalist, and I will shortlist actors again tonight."

Gregory sighed. "Fox wants to provide an update on Memento soon, we can still work on this."

Harry paused. "Understood. You will take the lead on the DP and the production crew. But let me see your stuff by Friday."

As weekend turned to midnight, Harry stayed at the drafting board, tapping pencil against script pages, sketching storyboard panels. The soft yellow light glowed; Sparky stirred and laid his head in Harry's lap.

There were no guarantees. There might be empty theatres or empty receptions. But ideas could breathe, people could give honest effort, and perhaps good stories—like Memento—could grow.

Sparky sniffed. Harry gently stroked his ears.

"Let's start small, Sparky," he whispered. "One step at a time."