Extra, Extra!

Yesterday was my first day as an extra on a giant, whompin', big-time movie. I'm an extra in the Oliver Stone film SEPTEMBER.

I signed up to be an extra because I'm totally tapped. Two moves and no real job for several months has taken a hell of a toll. So I figured until my full-time gig is in full swing out here, I'll be an extra.

Getting into the extra casting agency and all that was quite boring. Needless to say, they sign up anyone because all types are needed at one time or another for background. "Background" is the dehumanizing term they use for the people that stand or walk around and have no lines. It makes you sound more like a plant or filing cabinet than a walkin' talkin' non-famous person.

That being said, I think regularly-working extras have it made, for here was my day...

I had to be at the set at 3:30.
At 3:15 I arrived at the Universal/Paramount lot near Marina Del Rey. They checked my name at the gate and directed me to a parking lot next to a giant white (heated) tent, in which I was about to spend the next five hours.

There was a line to sign in and that ate up about 25 minutes. I was given a "group" for wardrobing and props. The scene is the evening of September 11th when they actually pull the last few survivors out of the rubble, but more on that later.

From 4:00 to about 5:30 about 80 or 90 of us just chatted, read, played cards or ate from what I thought was the lunch craft services table. While it was a craft services, it wasn't lunch. But it was a very nice spread with fresh fruit, good coffee, muffins, gourmet cookies and granola bars. That's there all the time for the extras.

About 5:30 or so my group was called. There are people cast as firemen, Emergency services working, NY Port Authority, doctors, construction workers, uniformed NYPD and plain clothes NYPD. I was the last category.
I went to wardrobe and they found some fat guy pants, a dark red plaid shirt and a work-area helmet. Just outside the wardrobe area I was directed by a PA to a couple make-up tables. A couple really nice and sarcastic middle-aged chubby women applied make-up to make me look dirty and sweaty.
Back to the white tent with me.

I had met a guy named Justin who just moved here from Boston. We were the youngest two guys in the tent by about 10-15 year on the average, so we hung out the rest of the day and gabbed to pass the time. Justin was also plain-clothed NYPD so that meant we got called at all the same times.

A little while later we were told to go to the prop department by group. Justin was given a pair of gloves, a breathing mask and a flashlight. I got the gloves, mask, and a chain-around-the-neck style cop badge. Bad-ass! I'm a freakin' sergeant!
My badge looked really real. I told Justin that I suspect some of us would be pretty close to the camera because my badge was a Hero-prop level prop. I know they make cheap aluminum badges that are pretty much just the shape of the badge for deeper background props. However mine was totally badass.

We chatted about all sorts of crap until about 6:40 or so. We hadn't really done anything but get dressed and it was 1/2 for lunch. The buffet was as good as any average-quality wedding buffet and there was plenty for everyone. I didn't have much because I can stay on my diet with the fruit from the snacks table.

Finally around 8:45, we were driven to the set. The set was probably about 300 yards away but they loaded us up into shuttles and drove us over there.

The set was -not to sound gay- breathtaking. It was an enormous, 100-yard square reproduction of ground zero for the evening of the 11th.
We were standing around in groups waiting to be told what to do and this is where I lucked out.
"You, you and you come with me". A production manager? told me and two other guys to follow him after a quick scanning of the 30 or 40 faces in front of him.

We walked up a cleverly concealed path up the tower of rubble. At the very top is the hole where one of the main characters is pulled out of the rubble after 13 hours of searching.
All the extras form two shoulder-to-shoulder lines up the path of the rubble to the hole. The vast majority of extras are much deeper in the background, filling out the rest of the line.

When the guy is put on a strecher, he's passed down the line of firemen, NYPD, Red Cross and construction workers. They only pass him down about 30 or 40 rows of people before they cut. I'm the 16th person in line from the edge of the hole.

We did only two takes with the camera on a crane and then two takes with the background redressed for the wide shots which was a two-camera ordeal.

In between these sets of takes there was another break for food or coffee. They had In and Out burger, soup, fruit, and gormet coffee with a barista attendant. The poor, poor extras.

About ten minutes before the first crane shot, Oliver himself came out from behind a little blind they had the the muckity-mucks and walked to the top to do who knows what. He walked right by me within cock-punching distance. He stopped to talk to talk to one of the exras who was playing a fireman two guys down from me.
They had a hushed conversation which included another fireman. While I could only hear about 30% of it, it was enough to figure out that those firemen weren't extras...they were the real frickin' NY firemen that pulled the people out of the rubble on 911.
Oliver seemed to be asking about certain nuances of how a couple things really were. Shit. I really respect that. Poop.
I was all ready to think Mr. Conspiracy Pants was a real ass. On top of it all, he chatted up the extras as he passed by us all and thanking us for our patience and doing such a good job that it only took two takes.
Granted I was only exposed to him for about five minutes, but the five minutes of Oliver Stone that I saw seemed to be a good guy.

My call time today is 4:00, so I've got to beat feet.

Today the camera is supposed to pass by us for close-ups of the extras. Let's see just how lucky I get again.

PS - I almost forgot; the base rate for 8 hours is 54 bucks. Not so hot. From 9-10 or 11 hours is time and a half. Past 12 hours is double time. If they day goes beyond 14 or 16 (I forget) hours you enter what's called "golden time". Justin told me his girlfriend made over 400 dollars a day when a shoot went into golden time. Also you get a little 15 or twenty dollar bump for being in the smoke, shooting at night, using your own clothes, playing a sport, and all sorts of other things. We went until 2AM last night and I've been told Fridays are the long nights.

Back to Los Angeles for the First Time

I'm going to start blogging again. I'm sure millions of fans worldwide are breaking out the champagne and party hats.

Even if I just get my 5 or 6 readers back, I'm more interested in recording what I experience over the next few months.
Also, I'm going to forget some awesomely fruity-ass LA stories if I don't put them to print -or at least e-print- here.

So for an appetizer....

I went to see an Upright Citizen's Brigade show a few days ago. Actually, I've gone to a couple UCB shows now. I think they're very good, very funny. It's really a shame that some of these guys don't have their own TV show (again), but I'm sure they've got something in the works.

The UCB theater is on Franklin Avenue in Hollywood. It's across the street from the Scientology Celebrity Center. Which of course only increases the chances of seeing some really bizarre crap.
The last time I looked up at the center, I could see people moving around on the 3rd or 4th floor. I wanted to throw a rock at the window.
"Run! Run for your lif...run for your millions of dollars and reputation! RUUUNN!"
But I think they would 1. Not hear me. 2. Have me arrested for the rock thing and 3. I would have felt silly if was just a maid or something. I mean, she's not losing anything in the name of Xenu, right?

So while outside the theater waiting for the show, I'm drinking some coffee and people watching.
Suddenly... There he was. The King Fish of people watching. The crown jewel of passer-bys strolled right down the street. Our eyes even locked for a second.

A gentleman in his late 40's or so. Dressed as anyone would for a cool January walk in Hollywood. He was wearing black stretch pants with some sort of t-shirt and an old-style biker jacket with lots of chains and bedazzles on it. This otherwise simple ensemble was punched up with a pair of very large, steel-framed knee pads/braces. He had a 1980's fanny pack with bight blue rubber gloves hanging off the fanny pack and giant aviator-style goggles.
The goggles were set off against a lemony shade of bleached blonde receding hair.

He was obviously an artist and wanted a reaction. Sadly, most people walked on by without batting an eye. I know that he noticed me noticing him. I don't know if he thought he had "blown my mind" or if he wanted a date.
I suppose ultimately he succeeded. Here I am telling literally half a dozen people about it.

I think it's about time that Mr. Bluegloveskneebraceaviatorgoggles became a star!!!