`If you walked down any street in America and asked random people, "Who's your ultimate America's Sweetheart?" you'd get a million different answers.
The older crowd would say Jennifer Aniston, Julia Roberts, Sandra Bullock, or Catherine Zeta-Jones.
Younger folks would throw out Anne Hathaway or Rachel McAdams.
Teens would probably scream Hilary Duff or Lindsay Lohan, the queens of early-2000s high-school flicks.
But if you really wanted to know the name that lives in the hearts of one, maybe two entire generations of Americans (and half the planet), none of those are the right answer.
There's only one true Queen of the Sweethearts, the undisputed, forever champion: Meg Ryan.
That megawatt smile got permanently etched into pop-culture history with Sleepless in Seattle. You've Got Mail and City of Angels made sure nobody could ever un-see it. For pretty much the entire '90s she was America's girlfriend, the girl next door who somehow lived in a perfect Manhattan apartment.
Then 2000 happened.
While shooting Proof of Life she had an affair with Russell Crowe, fresh off his Oscar win for Gladiator. America lost its collective mind. In a country raised on Sunday school and "thou shalt not," adultery was unforgivable. Russell got branded the home-wrecker, but Meg got it worse (she betrayed her husband Dennis Quaid and their little boy). Tabloids feasted. Church ladies clutched pearls.
They divorced that year. She and Russell never even ended up together; he went back to his long-time girlfriend. Meg went quiet, disappeared for years, and her career tanked hard.
Joy remembered that, years later in her first life, Meg finally spoke about it publicly and said (roughly): "Russell didn't break up my marriage. He's a good man and I hate that he got painted as the bad guy because of me. My marriage with Dennis was already broken—he'd been cheating long before Russell ever showed up. In a weird way I'm grateful, because the affair forced me to finally face the truth."
It was heartbreaking when she finally said it out loud. She never trashed Dennis, never played the victim, just took the hit and walked away. The punishment America gave her was brutal and permanent.
Four years later, when Meg Ryan walked into the room, Joy wasn't even a little surprised. After everything Hughes had hinted at yesterday, it wasn't hard to connect the dots: a female star older than Tom Cruise who once ruled the box office but had vanished? There was only one.
She looked… calm. Peaceful, even. The storm had passed, and whatever was left was soft and steady. She smiled at Joy (that smile, still lethal at 43).
"Grant, I've heard so much about you. When Hughes told me you were prepping something new, I basically begged him for the script. I love what you did with Juno. It moved me. I'd kill to be part of whatever you're doing next."
Some of that was genuine (Meg really had loved the script), but they both knew the other half of the story. Good roles had dried up completely. This was a lifeline, and she was grabbing it with both hands.
Joy wasn't naive enough to think the former $20-million-per-picture queen was here out of pure artistic passion. Meg needed a comeback, bad. But Joy also genuinely loved her, loved that smile, loved what she used to mean to people. And she fit the lead in Source Code perfectly.
So Joy smiled back. "Ms. Ryan, I'm assuming you've read it. You know what I'm going for. I think you're perfect for it—your whole vibe is exactly what I've been picturing. Having you here honestly thrills me."
Meg's famous grin lit up the room like the '90s never ended. "You have no idea how excited I was when Hughes called. I even told him I'd do it for scale if I had to."
Hughes, standing off to the side trying to look dignified, gave a tiny nod. For once the usual sarcastic smirk was nowhere to be found; he actually had manners in front of a legend.
Joy laughed. "We're pretty anemic budget-wise, so we can't pay what you deserve, but if you're really okay with that… welcome aboard. We can sign tomorrow if you want."
Meg's eyes widened, then softened. "Tomorrow works. I'm in."
"Great. Come by the office—Infinite Pictures—and we'll make it official. I'll let you know the moment we're ready to roll. Still a few pieces to lock down."
They chatted a few more minutes, Meg floated out on a cloud, and the second the door closed Joy spun around and smacked Hughes on the arm.
"You were oddly quiet today. Where's all the usual snark? I didn't hear a single bitchy comment."
Hughes lit a cigarette with theatrical flair. "I have enormous respect for that woman. Anyone who gets knocked down that hard and still stands up deserves it. Those are the ones with real backbone."
Joy snorted. "You're just jealous you've never had to climb out of a hole. Your life's been one big silver spoon. Tragic, really."
He blew smoke, smirking. "Maybe. Smooth sailing gets boring. Some of us secretly wish we had war stories."
"Poor little rich boy," Joy teased. "So what impossible thing are you chasing these days?"
He gave her a sideways smile that didn't answer the question.
Joy rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Cast is basically set. Now we just need passports and plane tickets. Time to lock the Romania schedule and get everyone on the same page. I'll start wrangling crew and actors."
"Do whatever you want," he said, already back to his usual aloof self.
The next couple weeks were a whirlwind of pre-production. Then, finally, departure day.
The whole crew piled onto a flight bound for Romania (Hughes, predictably, was not among them).
Everyone was floored that Meg Ryan (actual Meg Ryan) was headlining a $20-million indie sci-fi movie. She won the entire team over in about thirty seconds with that smile.
Even Bradley Cooper (who was co-starring) geeked out: "I'm a huge fan, I grew up on her!"
The trades took notice too. Suddenly Joy's follow-up had real heat.
Of course, the internet had its own take:
Two has-beens desperately clinging to each other? America's disgraced sweetheart + the scandal-plagued director = the biggest train wreck in history?
Or… something else?
Either way, cameras were about to roll.
Principal photography on Source Code officially began.