1998

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Spoiler Alert: The Mission is Matt Damon

Thursday, December 2nd, 2010

Last year after Thanksgiving, I came back to Boston having unearthed the receipt for my 1998 purchase of the Good Will Hunting soundtrack.

This year I come to you (from my parents’ home, having dug through my teenage bedroom) with my original ticket stub from the first time I saw Good Will Hunting — January 31, 1998. (As it turns out, I truly throw nothing away.)

Good Will Hunting ticket stub

If I ever start a blog about Courage Under Fire, Saving Private Ryan, Jerry Maguire, or The Mighty Ducks 2, I also have those ticket stubs.

Which reminds me — remember how the unexpected success of Good Will Hunting sort of threw a wrench in marketing for Spielberg’s Saving Private Ryan in 1998? Spielberg cast Matt Damon based on his impressive performance in Courage Under Fire, when he was still relatively unknown.

Matt Damon in Saving Private RyanBut when this previously little-known actor, who happens to be the title character of your film, becomes an Oscar-winning superstar, it becomes necessary to promote his forthcoming role. As I recall, there was supposed to be some dramatic tension as to whether Private Ryan was even alive and around to be saved. Damon doesn’t appear until the last act of the film, and at one point along the way Tom Hanks thinks he has found Ryan, when of course he hasn’t — because that guy was not Matt Damon.

That said, Matt did have a starring role in The Rainmaker, a big John Grisham film, which came out before Good Will Hunting (a couple months before). (According to the book Down and Dirty Pictures, it was this big break that ensured Miramax would give Good Will Hunting the final green light, despite a couple of kids insisting on director approval and leading roles.)

Saving Private Ryan movie poster

Still, when I saw Saving Private Ryan in the summer of 1998, I wasn’t worried at all about whether Tom Hanks would find Ryan — I knew he was going to show up, and was going to be played by Matt Damon (and not the-star-of-The-Rainmaker Matt Damon). Without Good Will Hunting‘s success he would have been just another emerging actor in an ensemble war film, and not someone who needed to be promoted on the poster as the-Matt-Damon-starring-as-Private-Ryan.

Think about it — what if Rosebed had won the Best Supporting Sled Oscar four months before Citizen Kane had been released? Orson Welles would have been pissed.

A Call for Anecdotes

Saturday, September 4th, 2010

Okay, we know you’ve got ‘em. We’re looking for anecdotes about the time(s) you’ve seen Good Will Hunting.

Maybe the first time you saw it. Maybe other times. Seeing a movie in a movie theater lends itself to a more textured experience, so maybe if you saw it back in 1997/1998 you have a couple distinct memories about the experience.

Leave a comment below, email us, or submit your anecdote here.

earthtonesI remember going by myself to the bigger theater in the next town, back in 1998. (It had a small release in December of 1997 but didn’t reach me in South Carolina until early 1998.) As far as I was concerned, Good Will Hunting was a small, indie movie for discerning viewers (like my 17-year-old self).

I had been to Boston before, and had lived in a suburb when I was younger. The next year I would go to college in western Massachusetts.

Getting home from the theater involved taking a small highway, not unlike the one seen at the end of the film, and I reflected upon my young life in a brooding, Matt-Damon-y way on the ride. Inspired (I was an artist, you see) by Gus Van Sant’s tonal choices in the film, I went to the little room off of the garage that I called “my studio,” where I had my art supplies set up. I did a small abstract oil painting, which relied heavily on yellow ochre, burnt sienna, and raw sienna (among my favorites, those earth tones).

A Matt Damon Prom

Monday, May 17th, 2010

Blog Will Hunting welcomes guest contributor Elizabeth, of Chicago, Illinois.


Let’s be honest: I was a complete disaster my senior year of high school, in the spring of 1998. My best friend was going to the prom with my ex-boyfriend and I was going a little crazy. And, remember 1998? Matt Damon and Ben Affleck had just skyrocketed to fame, but they weren’t the superstars they are now. This was pre-Bennifer, pre-Bourne Identity and pre-Ocean’s 11.

But let’s rewind for a second (this was still the era of VHS after all)… I was 17 and desperate for the perfect prom date.

I begged my best-guy-friend to come with me, but he didn’t want to go, period. He didn’t like to dance, it was too expensive, and anyway, he was thinking of asking the cute freshman he had a crush on. I thought maybe I could go with the guy I went with last year, a blind date arranged so that my friend and her boyfriend would have company, but he had a soccer tournament that weekend. And another acquaintance was too busy fending off previous unwanted requests to seriously consider mine.

I could only think of one other option: Matt Damon.

I did a “peoplesearch” on yahoo.com to find his email address—the Internet was still young. There were several entries for people named Matt Damon, but one of these cited residence in Hollywood, California. Mattdamon@yahoo.com, in fact. So I noted this and considered how I might convince a celebrity to travel to southern Indiana to attend my senior prom.

Matt Damon People Search

The email I wrote was long, and in my attempt to sound sincere, to convince Matt that I wasn’t some crazed fan, I guess, it ended up a painfully detailed self-advertisement.

I began by giving him my name, telling him I was 17 years old, where I went to school, and insisting that what I was writing wasn’t “just some ordinary piece of fan mail,” that I wasn’t the “groupie-fan-mail-type.” I told him I had tried, “in one way or another, to get five or six guys to go to the prom with me,” but that “nevertheless, I remain dateless.”

“Please consider visiting Terre Haute on April 25,” I closed. “I believe you would have a great time, and I would be thrilled to have you join me. You could even come incognito, if you wish.” I said I would understand if he was too busy, but that I would like a response either way, and if he couldn’t come, maybe he could get one of his friends—Ben, maybe—to attend the prom with me. I signed it: “Sincerely, Elizabeth Marie Erickson” and attached a senior photo I had scanned, a picture of me in a white T-shirt and overalls with an American flag backdrop.

I didn’t feel any more danger of rejection than I did when I asked the guys at school. He’s the type who’d be up for an adventure, I thought, who might get a kick out of doing something as unexpected as going to the prom with some lonely girl in Indiana.

I tell this story every once in a while and people usually assume this is the end.

But he wrote back.

That is, someone wrote back.

The subject line read: “Elizabeth, you are beautiful!” He said he was impressed I had sent him my school picture, that I looked like the front of a Wheaties box, “All American youth and healthy!”

“I’m sorry sweetheart,” he wrote, “but I must decline your prom invitation. I will be busy shooting on location that night. But I know a girl as beautiful and smart and interesting (you must be the prettiest girl in your school!) as you will have guys lined up waiting! Just choose one!”

I’ve never met Matt Damon, and I can’t be sure who answered my email. Honestly though, I’m just as grateful to the schmo who probably impersonated him as I would be to the potentially real Matt Damon, for taking the time to make a 17-year-old in Indiana feel a little less alone.


Editor’s Note: By the way, “Elizabeth” is a pseudonym… so Matt Damon, if you’re out there, don’t bother people-searching her.