Date: December 2010
Job: Outland
Location: St Kilda
Amazing! Barely a week has passed and I’m back on the job! This time I’m a pharmacist in a new series about gay sci-fi fans. They dress me in a white coat, a scarf and some reading glasses on a chain. I chat to a handsome young man while waiting to be taken to the location, but after two hours of sharing our ‘acting’ experiences, movie critiques and innermost secrets we just about run out of things to say. I invite a second young man over to join us. We are eventually taken to the location. The two young men seem to hit it off and it’s a case of two’s company. Given the premise of the production we’re working on, it’s not surprising, I suppose. The second guy has only been with an agent a short time but has already made some TV commercials (very well paid incidentally). His very good looks must have something to do with it! I’m a little green, I have to admit. They are both with agents who charge nothing to have you on the books, unlike mine. However, the fee is much less than others I’ve heard of and it does cover your headshot. Must do some more investigating. (Sorry to bore you non actor/extras with these details but for the rest of you it might be helpful.)
The extras have to walk down the street as 'Fab' (Adam Richard) talks on his mobile outside a pharmacy. I wait patiently as the others are given their directions, assuming there will be an interior shot involving me, but in the back of my mind is the memory of extras who were on set for hours and never used. Eventually the AD asks, ‘Are you one of us?’ and tells me to walk into the shop. It doesn’t really make a lot of sense, the pharmacist walking into the pharmacy. But, hey, I’m glad they didn’t forget me altogether. Wouldn’t want to miss the opportunity to glimpse myself on screen. I recognise the director from City Homicide. He actually chats to the extras (a rarity) and shakes my hand, which is quite a change from before, when he didn’t even acknowledge me despite there being only three actors and myself in a relatively intimate set. I don’t get it, but I smile enthusiastically and hope he remembers my face. For next time.
Showing posts with label extras. Show all posts
Showing posts with label extras. Show all posts
Friday, December 3, 2010
Friday, November 26, 2010
Holy Hairspray
Date: November 2010
Job: Judith Lucy's Spiritual Journey
Location: Richmond
So there I am, thinking that my agent has wiped me from the database, when I get a call for a four hour job as a 1980s church goer. Another small step in my journey of stardom. (Talking of stardom, I’ve just heard that a former drama student of mine-Brett Tucker- has won a role on CSI. Not bad for an Aussie kid from the Yarra Valley! Of course, I taught him everything he knows.)
Anyway, when the wardrobe person calls I happily tell her, yes, I do have a 1980’s outfit, complete with padded shoulders. Actually, it doesn’t seem that long ago that I bought it. However, when I arrive I find out I am a ‘featured extra’ and have to wear one of their outfits. Apparently it might end up covered in grape juice! I don a coral pink / orange jacket (yes, it has padded shoulders) and squeeze into a tiny matching skirt, then toddle off to the next tent to get my 80s hair and make-up done. Half a can of hairspray later I join the other extras in a communion line in the Catholic church. We ‘featured ones’ get to stand at the top of the line. We watch comedienne Judith Lucy collapse in a drunken heap then stagger up the aisle and grab the chalice from the priest. While waiting in line with us, she strikes up a conversation. ‘Do you get much of this sort of work?’ she asks. The young man in front of me says ‘Yeah’. I say, ‘And what about you?’ She laughs. I’m chuffed. I’ve made a comic laugh. I think I also made a priest sin.
My short skirt is even shorter when I’m sitting cross-legged in the front pew and as the actor playing the assistant priest is about to be filmed, he is momentarily distracted by my legs! They’re not anything special, let me tell you, but there is no mistaking the direction of his gaze, and the change in his expression from one of slightly perverted shock to priestly solemnity is obvious. I’m not sure whether to be embarrassed or flattered!
As usual, we extras chat between takes about the jobs we’ve had. Actually, we whisper. I'm not sure whether that's because the crew is so quiet or because we're in a church. Two new bits of advice: in big films, don't aim for the front; you're more likely to get used again if you haven't been seen. Secondly, in TV series, check the clapperboard to see what episode you're in. It also seems that your willingness to say 'yes' when offered work is of less value than your availability. In other words, if you're not in regular employment you'll get more offers. We notice a fellow extra, a woman, who is clearly out of it, struggle to stay conscious in her seat. Seems they’ll take anyone in this line of work (me included!). I’m there for over three hours for what will probably be a ten second scene. I’ve heard the ABC caters well but there’s barely a cup of water to be found so I’m a bit parched by the time I head off to find my car in the maze of inner suburban streets, hoping I haven't got a parking ticket.
I do a spot of shopping on the way home, expecting people to turn their heads at my coiffure and preparing to explain to sales assistants why I look like a cast member of 'Dynasty', but I don’t even get a second glance. What's happening to the world? Is it possible that, with regard to hair fashion, anything goes nowadays? Heaven forbid. I am almost disappointed. As I sit perched on a stool in the food court, sipping my latte, I realise that I got more attention from that priest.
Job: Judith Lucy's Spiritual Journey
Location: Richmond
So there I am, thinking that my agent has wiped me from the database, when I get a call for a four hour job as a 1980s church goer. Another small step in my journey of stardom. (Talking of stardom, I’ve just heard that a former drama student of mine-Brett Tucker- has won a role on CSI. Not bad for an Aussie kid from the Yarra Valley! Of course, I taught him everything he knows.)
Anyway, when the wardrobe person calls I happily tell her, yes, I do have a 1980’s outfit, complete with padded shoulders. Actually, it doesn’t seem that long ago that I bought it. However, when I arrive I find out I am a ‘featured extra’ and have to wear one of their outfits. Apparently it might end up covered in grape juice! I don a coral pink / orange jacket (yes, it has padded shoulders) and squeeze into a tiny matching skirt, then toddle off to the next tent to get my 80s hair and make-up done. Half a can of hairspray later I join the other extras in a communion line in the Catholic church. We ‘featured ones’ get to stand at the top of the line. We watch comedienne Judith Lucy collapse in a drunken heap then stagger up the aisle and grab the chalice from the priest. While waiting in line with us, she strikes up a conversation. ‘Do you get much of this sort of work?’ she asks. The young man in front of me says ‘Yeah’. I say, ‘And what about you?’ She laughs. I’m chuffed. I’ve made a comic laugh. I think I also made a priest sin.
My short skirt is even shorter when I’m sitting cross-legged in the front pew and as the actor playing the assistant priest is about to be filmed, he is momentarily distracted by my legs! They’re not anything special, let me tell you, but there is no mistaking the direction of his gaze, and the change in his expression from one of slightly perverted shock to priestly solemnity is obvious. I’m not sure whether to be embarrassed or flattered!
As usual, we extras chat between takes about the jobs we’ve had. Actually, we whisper. I'm not sure whether that's because the crew is so quiet or because we're in a church. Two new bits of advice: in big films, don't aim for the front; you're more likely to get used again if you haven't been seen. Secondly, in TV series, check the clapperboard to see what episode you're in. It also seems that your willingness to say 'yes' when offered work is of less value than your availability. In other words, if you're not in regular employment you'll get more offers. We notice a fellow extra, a woman, who is clearly out of it, struggle to stay conscious in her seat. Seems they’ll take anyone in this line of work (me included!). I’m there for over three hours for what will probably be a ten second scene. I’ve heard the ABC caters well but there’s barely a cup of water to be found so I’m a bit parched by the time I head off to find my car in the maze of inner suburban streets, hoping I haven't got a parking ticket.
I do a spot of shopping on the way home, expecting people to turn their heads at my coiffure and preparing to explain to sales assistants why I look like a cast member of 'Dynasty', but I don’t even get a second glance. What's happening to the world? Is it possible that, with regard to hair fashion, anything goes nowadays? Heaven forbid. I am almost disappointed. As I sit perched on a stool in the food court, sipping my latte, I realise that I got more attention from that priest.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Scrubbing Up Again
Date: August 2010
Job: Offspring
Location: Preston
Okay! Back in scrubs. I got my fix. I walked the hospital corridor. I feel better now.
This week I was on set again with Dishy Dr Don. I got to walk past him. No saving babies' lives together today (see The Mouths of Babes, June) but that's okay. Such is the unpredictable life of a professional extra.
There are seven of us 'background artistes' playing hospital staff and patients. There's a young man taking photos of himself in scrubs who tells me everything he's been up to lately and shows me a photo of his baby nephew, who is apparently a lady killer, in the first five minutes of meeting him and without invitation.
Anyway, I'm eventually summoned and told to wait three beats then walk down the hallway with the orderly, past Dr Proudman (Asher Keddie). Wait so many beats then return with the nurse. I have to mime chatting, walk more slowly, act natural, stop at the water cooler, stop at the door, walk off when the lead says 'two minutes', be more animated. 'Don't just stand there like an ironing board,' says the AD. Okay, but you just told me to be natural and I'm remembering the time I got told to 'tone it down' (Surviving Amateurs, June). I ain't arguing with her, though. Earlier, when she was giving us our places, one extra asked if he could go to the toilet. She kicked him off the set! (Well, he was warned!) But now I'm worried she thinks I'm stupid. I am so busy concentrating on being animated I forget the instructions.
I'm 'wrapped' but get to have lunch before I leave. Most of the other extras get to stay on for another four hours. Not to worry. I got my fix.
Trouble is, how long can I last before I give in again, say yes to the call from the agent (whenever that might be) and, throwing caution to the wind, take another day off work? How long before the lure of being seen on the screen theatens my wellbeing, my job, my very soul?
For now I resolve to stay strong. I will only take jobs on my days off. I will focus on the roles I have in two student films. But like a true addict I'm probably kidding myself.
Job: Offspring
Location: Preston
Okay! Back in scrubs. I got my fix. I walked the hospital corridor. I feel better now.
This week I was on set again with Dishy Dr Don. I got to walk past him. No saving babies' lives together today (see The Mouths of Babes, June) but that's okay. Such is the unpredictable life of a professional extra.
There are seven of us 'background artistes' playing hospital staff and patients. There's a young man taking photos of himself in scrubs who tells me everything he's been up to lately and shows me a photo of his baby nephew, who is apparently a lady killer, in the first five minutes of meeting him and without invitation.
Anyway, I'm eventually summoned and told to wait three beats then walk down the hallway with the orderly, past Dr Proudman (Asher Keddie). Wait so many beats then return with the nurse. I have to mime chatting, walk more slowly, act natural, stop at the water cooler, stop at the door, walk off when the lead says 'two minutes', be more animated. 'Don't just stand there like an ironing board,' says the AD. Okay, but you just told me to be natural and I'm remembering the time I got told to 'tone it down' (Surviving Amateurs, June). I ain't arguing with her, though. Earlier, when she was giving us our places, one extra asked if he could go to the toilet. She kicked him off the set! (Well, he was warned!) But now I'm worried she thinks I'm stupid. I am so busy concentrating on being animated I forget the instructions.
I'm 'wrapped' but get to have lunch before I leave. Most of the other extras get to stay on for another four hours. Not to worry. I got my fix.
Trouble is, how long can I last before I give in again, say yes to the call from the agent (whenever that might be) and, throwing caution to the wind, take another day off work? How long before the lure of being seen on the screen theatens my wellbeing, my job, my very soul?
For now I resolve to stay strong. I will only take jobs on my days off. I will focus on the roles I have in two student films. But like a true addict I'm probably kidding myself.
Friday, July 2, 2010
Being Seen
Date: March 2010
Job: NAB TVC
Location: Point Nepean.
There are two hundred extras on set, pretending to watch a cycling race. We’ve been here since 7.30 am, (after meeting at Springvale Station at 5.15!) and won’t leave until after 5 pm. Most are young things and there are quite a few hotties of both genders. And then there are the cyclists in their lycra. We have to cheer them on. And on. All day. Up to ten times in one position. We’ve all got the same thing in mind. Be seen. So I observe extras of all ages grabbing their spot by the barricades and guarding them fiercely. Some move in on others’ territory. I hang back with Rob, who I met on the set of The Trial (see The Trial and Error, June). But he’s tall. If I’m going to be seen I’ve got to get into the gap between two shortish pretty girls. So I cheer and clap and jump up and down as the cyclists and the camera on the back of a quad bike go whizzing past and lose my balance and fall forward onto the pretty young thing in front. I apologise, but in the next take she’s gone. More room for me. But then another pretty young thing slips in and I’m back in the second row with Rob. It seems the front row is getting more full with every take. Everyone has the same idea. But who are we trying to kid? All we will see when the ad hits the screen is a blur of faces or a split second glimpse of ourselves as we say to anyone who will listen, ‘There I am!’
So that's what it's all about. Being seen. I’ve been doing extra work for twelve months now and I’m yet to see myself on screen. The Trial has been banned in Victoria and in Rush you'd have to play it in slow-motion on a super HD wide screen with ultra zoom to see me! In the bank ad - you know, the cycling race I've just been talking about (you mean you didn‘t get the connection??)- you see about a quarter of the extras who were there and they’re just a blur, as I expected. In the first job I did on Offspring (see The Mouths of Babes, June) I thought, ooh, this is good. There's only four extras and three leads in a relatively intimate scene. Then they give me a cap to wear. And a surgical mask. Great. Then in the third job the medical expert says I don’t need to wear a mask and I think ‘woohoo!’ (or was it ‘yippee’?) but they stick one on me anyway simply because Dr Don is wearing one. I mean, it's not for me to question their artistic decisions, but whatever happened to authenticity? Really.
Now I don't want you getting the wrong idea. It's not like being seen is my main aim in life, but it would be nice. Of course, much of the work I’ve done recently is still in some stage of production and in some of it, hey, I’m not even wearing a mask, so fingers crossed.
Job: NAB TVC
Location: Point Nepean.
There are two hundred extras on set, pretending to watch a cycling race. We’ve been here since 7.30 am, (after meeting at Springvale Station at 5.15!) and won’t leave until after 5 pm. Most are young things and there are quite a few hotties of both genders. And then there are the cyclists in their lycra. We have to cheer them on. And on. All day. Up to ten times in one position. We’ve all got the same thing in mind. Be seen. So I observe extras of all ages grabbing their spot by the barricades and guarding them fiercely. Some move in on others’ territory. I hang back with Rob, who I met on the set of The Trial (see The Trial and Error, June). But he’s tall. If I’m going to be seen I’ve got to get into the gap between two shortish pretty girls. So I cheer and clap and jump up and down as the cyclists and the camera on the back of a quad bike go whizzing past and lose my balance and fall forward onto the pretty young thing in front. I apologise, but in the next take she’s gone. More room for me. But then another pretty young thing slips in and I’m back in the second row with Rob. It seems the front row is getting more full with every take. Everyone has the same idea. But who are we trying to kid? All we will see when the ad hits the screen is a blur of faces or a split second glimpse of ourselves as we say to anyone who will listen, ‘There I am!’
So that's what it's all about. Being seen. I’ve been doing extra work for twelve months now and I’m yet to see myself on screen. The Trial has been banned in Victoria and in Rush you'd have to play it in slow-motion on a super HD wide screen with ultra zoom to see me! In the bank ad - you know, the cycling race I've just been talking about (you mean you didn‘t get the connection??)- you see about a quarter of the extras who were there and they’re just a blur, as I expected. In the first job I did on Offspring (see The Mouths of Babes, June) I thought, ooh, this is good. There's only four extras and three leads in a relatively intimate scene. Then they give me a cap to wear. And a surgical mask. Great. Then in the third job the medical expert says I don’t need to wear a mask and I think ‘woohoo!’ (or was it ‘yippee’?) but they stick one on me anyway simply because Dr Don is wearing one. I mean, it's not for me to question their artistic decisions, but whatever happened to authenticity? Really.
Now I don't want you getting the wrong idea. It's not like being seen is my main aim in life, but it would be nice. Of course, much of the work I’ve done recently is still in some stage of production and in some of it, hey, I’m not even wearing a mask, so fingers crossed.
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