The Placement

In the short time I've been doing it, I've come to realize that working as a movie or TV extra is all about jockeying for position. Most people who do background work, myself included, harbor some fantasy that they'll be noticed, which will eventually lead to larger roles. You can't be noticed unless you're location in the scene is noticeable. You need to be where the camera is pointing. Obviously, extras don't control their placement or there would be hand‐to‐hand combat over every prime spot. In "Hatfields and McCoys" I got lucky and was placed prominently in the ballroom scene,but it was just that ‐‐ luck. Some extras suck up to the production assistants (PA's) by bringing them coffee or pretending to be their buddy in order to get a leg up on placement. I'm not sure if that works but I've adopted a different tactic: eye contact with the assistant directors (AD's). These are the people who place extras on the set. Consistent eye contact seems to work when you're standing there waiting to be placed.

 

At the end of my last post I had just piled into a shuttle van with a lot of other extras to head from holding to the set, which was in the courthouse in Plymouth, MA. Ironically, I sat next to the guy playing the bailiff. My friend Mike had been picked for that part but the costume didn't fit. I could see why. This guy was about 5‐8 and weighed about 165 pounds. Mike is well over six feet and well over 200 pounds. The last time I saw Mike he was depressed and heading for the bathroom. He was wearing a necktie, which concerned me. Anyway, not only was this guy the bailiff, it was his second appearance in the movie! He'd had a different background role in another scene. This seemed odd to me. Surely some movie geek will point this out after the movie is released. (If not, I will) After a short ride we got to the courthouse service entrance. The van was so full that when a PA opened the door from the outside, someone literally fell out onto the ground. The bailiff stepped over him and kept walking. We were herded into a conference room which would serve as "set hold." I avoided the bailiff and sat down next to a guy who, like me, was dressed in a suit and tie. He introduced himself as Bob. This was Bob's first extra experience. From somewhere deep inside of me came swagger: "First time? Stick with me I told him. I've done this before." As a veteran of one television shoot, I knew the ropes. First we needed to get closer to the door that led to the set. Second, when they came in looking for people we needed to make direct eye contact. Third, if they pointed anywhere in our general direction we would jump into line and stay there until they told us otherwise. It wasn't long before a PA came in with a determined look on his face. My eyes were like lasers. He looked straight at me. This was it. "Help yourselves to drinks and snacks, we'll be back to get you in a while." Then he was gone. Shit. 

Bob and I chatted about the usual things, family, work, the Red Sox. After what seemed an eternity an AD came in. My eyes locked on like a sidewinder missile. To my surprise, he pointed two fingers at Bob and me and said: "You two, come with me." Bob gave me a nod of respect. I swaggered to the door. The AD then picked about 15 more people which took a little confidence out of my step. Eventually we walked upstairs to the set. It was a typical looking courtroom, judge’s bench, jury box, court reporter's desk, tables for the opposing legal teams, etc. There were actors sitting in all of these places but I didn't recognize any of them except one ‐‐ Robert Downey, Jr. was seated at the table directly in front of the gallery benches where Bob and I had been placed. Perfect! I'll be in the shot for sure. No sooner had that thought crossed my mind when a different AD came up to me and said "I need to move you. Too many men in suits in the front row." I almost said: "Move Bob, he's new." Instead I did as I was told. Head down, I slunk off to the back of the room like Charlie Brown. The right side of the gallery was divided by a perpendicular walkway that led out the main door of the courtroom. I was finally placed in the first row of the rear half of the split, along the walkway, next to where the bailiff stood. I couldn't seem to shake this bailiff guy but it could have been worse, I could have been buried in the back somewhere. I noticed that Bob had also been relocated further to the rear. More extras filed past where I was sitting. I saw Mike, he looked disdainfully at the bailiff as he walked into the room. An AD directed him to the back row, far corner. Mike's day wasn't getting any better. I settled onto the hard oak bench, my home for the next eight or ten hours.  

Next time: The Shoot

On the Lot

This was it.  Hollywood.  The big time.  No worrying about whether or not the pilot got picked up. This movie would be out there -- it might be a huge flop but it would be out there nonetheless. Early the next morning I made the drive to Plymouth, MA where the shoot would take place. The marshaling area was Plymouth High School. I arrived at 6:30AM and walked down a long, and surprisingly crowded, hallway to the cafeteria which was the designated "holding" area. Signs posted in the holding area said that the movie was called The Judge. I googled the title.  It's the story of a hotshot Chicago lawyer who returns to his hometown to deal with the death of his mother and ends up putting the CEO of a healthcare company on trial. Cast:  Robert Downey, Jr., Robert Duvall, Vera Farmiga, Billy Bob Thornton, Vincent D'Onofrio, David Krumholtz. Just my luck. I've never liked Robert Downey, Jr. and my hollywood debut would be a movie in which he stars. Oh well, I do love Duvall and Vera Farmiga is kind of hot. We would be shooting a courtroom scene. My first thoought was that I should have brought suspenders with my suit. I closed my eyes and pictured Gregory Peck's courtroom monologue in To Kill a Mockingbird. One of the best movie scenes of all time. I hoped like hell that Downey Jr. wouldn't attempt something similar. I checked in and was told to have some breakfast and wait to be called. Breakfast? I turned around and saw, like a beacon shining through the fog, a buffet. I don't typically eat much breakfast (I know, most important meal of the day, blah, blah) but when it comes to unlimited portions of pork products I have as much willpower as Lindsey Lohan at an open bar. There were also custom omelets, breakfast burritos and espresso drinks. Wow, $87.54 plus a serious meal.  Not bad.  I toddled towards the chow line drooling and grunting like a zombie from the Walking Dead. As I struggled to carry the fruits of my gluttony to a table I ran into my old buddy and acting mentor Mike who had guided me through the waiting process on the set of Hatfields and McCoys. He recognized me and we chatted for a while but he had to run off to wardrobe for a fitting, he had the inside track on a part as the bailiff.  Damn, I need to get into the union.

After eating I considered my next move. On Hatfields and McCoys I got dressed early then sat around for hours. I checked the line at wardrobe, very short. Screw it. I got into my suit and tie, combed my hair and waited to be examined head-to-toe by 2 or 3 very critical people who never seemed to be happy with what anyone was wearing. This time was no different. I had been told to wear a suit and the wardrobe people were looking at me like I'd worn cutoffs and a tee shirt. They conferred with each other as they checked me out. Lots of furrowed brows. They called over another person who also appeared to be concerned. Do I look that bad? Is there bacon grease on my shirt? Wait! It must be that I'm being considered for a bigger role and they want to make sure I looked perfect. Of course, what else could it be? I stood tall and proud. At that moment a man walked over to us and said:  "he's fine" and walked away. The others said nothing and immediately turned their attention to the next guy in line. I waited. Should I report to the casting director for further instructions? Finally one of them looked quizzically at me and said in a somewhat annoyed tone of voice:  "you can go back to holding." Dejected, I slunk off to the cafeteria where I ran into Mike, who was also unhappy. He didn't get the bailiff role because the costume wasn't large enough to fit him. Like the pigs that had given their lives for our breakfast, we wallowed in our mutual disappointment.

After only about an hour of waiting the assistant director starting lining us up in the hallway for movement to the set, which was in the county courthouse not far away. I had lost track of Mike who, I think, had wandered off to the Men's room to hang himself. Maybe I should check on him, but then I might not get to the set until later when the good background parts had been assigned. Mike would be okay. I fell into line. We squeezed about 18 people into a 12 passenger van and for the short ride to the set. Hollywood was about to be introduced to Tim McGuire.  In my head I recited my Oscar speech.