Bag of Awesome - Part V

Greetings, Behind the Scene-sters! 

The last series of shots we did for the A&E Stephen King miniseries Bag of Bones had us working in close conjunction with mega-star Pierce Brosnan.

As a kid I always assumed that the Remington Steele actor would inherit the role of James Bond from Roger Moore.  Unfortunately his television contract initially precluded his involvement in the venerable spy saga.  Instead, Timothy Dalton assumed the role for two films.  Then a legal battle broke out which resulted in the cancellation of a third Dalton Bond project in the early Nineties.  By the time all the legal wrangling was over, six years had gone by before the producers could finally offer this iconic role to Pierce.

In an arrangement that had fans thinking 'better late then never', Pierce put his own unique stamp on the 007 role over the course of four solid films.  To this day many people still see him as the prototypical James Bond.  In addition to really looking the part, Roger Ebert described Brosnan as "somehow more sensitive, more vulnerable, more psychologically complete" then his predecessor's take on Bond.  In fact, I consider Goldeneye to be one of the best of the entire series.  It's just a bit lamentable that the role hadn't come to him earlier.       

In retrospect, things probably worked out for the best.  After all, if Pierce had assumed the role right after playing Remington Steele he might have been typecast forever.  Instead, he's enjoyed a long and celebrated career in such diverse films as Mama Mia!, Percy Jackson & the Olympians, The Thomas Crown Affair, Grey Owl, Dante's Peak and Mrs. Doubtfire.

So, there we were: me, Shannon, Ashley and few other select folks, hanging out on a film set with a former British secret agent with a license to kill.  What can I say; sometimes life can take a decidedly odd detour into the surreal.

Again the action we were to follow was pretty straightforward.  Reacting to the awful sound of an accident, Pierce had to rush out through the doors, push his way past the gathered crowd and then break into the clearing where his wife's body was lying in the street.  As part of the continuity contingent from the previous day's bookstore scene, we had to run out just seconds behind him.

Before we charged out the door, Pierce looked back at us and smiled knowingly.  We barely had a chance to acknowledge this since we were all totally preoccupied with making sure that we could clear the doors quickly without trampling all over each other.  We'd already been instructed to wait a few beats before following "Mike" out the door, which seemed to jibe with the previous scene inside the "bookstore".

After working in close proximity with Pierce Brosnan for three days, I have to say that this guy is a consummate professional who really takes his craft seriously.  Heading into this emotionally taxing scene he had a certain restlessness about him.  At the time I couldn't tell if this edginess was a symptom of the thirty-seven day production schedule or if he was just attempting to ease himself up into a pretty dark headspace.

One person who seemed completely unfazed by the scale of everything around him was director Mick Garris.  Leading up to the first take, Mick gave Pierce the option to wear a jacket during the scene, presumably to keep him sheltered against the incessant rain.  Taking continuity over personal comfort, Pierce dismissed the offer and continued to psyche himself up for the scene.

Just before the cameras started to roll, Pierce got a bit twitchy when a crewman made the mistake of disappearing with his prop pen.  It seemed like an agonizing wait before all of the elements were in place and the equipment was all up to speed.  When 'Action!' was finally called, Pierce charged through the door and hit all of his marks like a pro.  After a few seconds, we hustled out the door right behind him, only to witness a scene rife with gallows humor.

For the purposes of establishing a sight line, the dummy representing Jo Noonan was still lying in the street, rigor-stiff with clawed hands outstretched skyward like a zombie in the video for Thriller.  Instantly I got shades of Martin Prince from that "Treehouse of Horror" episode of The Simpsons:      

            
It took all of our willpower to keep reacting to the ridiculous sight with horror.  Mercifully "Cut!" was finally called and, as it turned out, I'd been a lot more successful keeping a straight face then some other extras.

"Alright!" P.A. Mike shouted. "Remember, this is a very serious, very somber moment.  Unless some of you actually think that a woman getting run over by a bus is funny."

I quickly deduced two things from this: (1) Some background performers aren't very professional and (2) Mike has never played Grand Theft Auto IV.

After a few additional takes we ventured deeper into the scene.  Annabeth re-appeared, this time looking as if she'd actually been smoked by that Greyhound.  The special effects team had expertly rendered her thoroughly bruised, contused and abused.  Mercifully the dummy stand-in was carted away and Annabeth sprawled out into the street in its place.

As if all the gore and bruises weren't nasty enough, a special effects dude came by and practically hosed her down in stage blood.  We then marched back into the lobby to attempt another take.  A wardrobe woman began hovering around Pierce, using a swatch of absorbent fabric to try and minimize the dark raindrop spots on his blue shirt.  After she was dismissed another woman appeared and blew something straight into the actor's eyes.  Later we learned that it was a menthol "tear blower" which is designed to help actors get the water works a-flowin'.  Here's a snap of this curious-looking device:

Again we charged out into the elements.  Pierce pushed his way through the crowd, grabbed the limp form of Annabeth, cradled her in his arms and then began howling in pain.   After "Cut!" was called, we quickly beat a hasty retreat back into the shelter provided by the  "bookstore" entrance.

Mick Garris came in to remind Pierce to react to the shopping bag and its contents scattered on the ground beside Annabeth.  Brosnan protested that he didn't get a chance to do this since the cameras stopped rolling before he could even get to it.  Garris apologized for the oversight and they went right back at it.  If there was any lingering tension between the two it wasn't apparent.  

We went again and this time the results were much better.  Again, Pierce barreled through the throng of people, threw himself down beside Annabeth, gently took up her rag doll form and began to weep.  This time he made a point to first spot and then reacts to the innocuous items strewn onto the road.  Several paramedics then piled in to try to pull him back but he shook off their efforts, told them to "F#@% off!" and then rushed back to her.

Even though I was cupping my hands to my face, looking distressed and whispering in horror to my fellow onlookers, all I could think at the time was:

'Wow, are they allowed to say 'f#@%' on A&E now?'

And this is a perfect example of what people mean by "movie magic".  Witnessing this scene first hand, it seemed overwrought and melodramatic.  But I know, guaranteed, that when it plays out on television screen all across  the country, it's gonna be intense, powerful and emotional.              

We ran the scene a few more times and eventually nailed it.  Although it was unseasonably warm for mid-September, it was raining pretty hard by then and Annabeth was still splayed out in the street between takes.  Sometimes it seemed to take forever before her assistants arrived on the scene to shelter her with an umbrella and cover her up with a blanket.

Indeed, she almost seemed relieved to be shooting the next scene in which she gets lifted onto a stretcher and covered with a white sheet.  Now warmly enswaddled, the extras dressed as paramedics lifted her up into the back of the ambulance.  Instantly I could see why casting companies prefer to hire real paramedics, cops and firemen.  Despite having cameras and lights pointed at them, everything I saw these guys do had a distinct air of confidence, proficiency and authority about it.      

We went back into a holding pattern after that and I was socked to hear that it was now well past 1 pm.  Annabeth came inside and continued to putter around with us, still looking like death warmed over.  Lunch was called not long after and soon our executive-class kindergarten parade trooped back to the church.

The stellar meal awaiting us certainly made the trek worthwhile.  I settled on the roast pork loin, steamed mixed veggies and Caesar salad.  It was absolutely awesome.  The other two options (fish cakes and vegetarian pasta) looked equally delectable.  My hat always goes off to catering for feeding so many people so quickly and so consciously.

I wouldn't have thought it possible, but the rain seemed to pick up as we got ready to head back to set.  Indeed, my crappy little umbrella proved to be indispensable.  En route, we theorized as to how much more was left to shoot.  Scuttlebutt had begun to circulate that some chuckle-head had busted that last take due to a laughing fit.  We hastily concluded that morons like this should either be escorted off the set, relegated to a "Where's Waldo" position or get invoiced for the film's overtime costs.

As it turned out, everything seemed to be fine, leaving one last bit of coverage.  It was an elaborate crane shot which I think is going to look amazing.  The camera started out at street level with Pierce and Annabeth in closeup, rose up into the air and then angled down, stopping only when Mike and Jo were center frame with the rain pouring down on them.

Brosnan's emotional performance was pretty powerful so it certainly wasn't difficult to mime grief and shock.  Then, as if some higher power wanted to remind us that things aren't always completely bleak, the rain finally started to slack off.  This turned out to be good timing since we were outdoors quite a bit working on this sequence.

We were asked to dodge back inside again as they tweaked the set up.  As if we hadn't already been well cared for, the production team brought in twelve pizzas to keep us well-fed.  During this time, director Mick Garris started wandering around, asking how we were holding up and answering questions about the production's last remaining days.  If the weight of the world was on his shoulders, he certainly didn't show it.

When we went back out on the street for the last time, I noticed that things had been reversed so that the crane started high up and then finished its movement down at street level.  Now I'm really wondering what shot will end up in the final cut.  The post-production window for this film is pretty tight, which is pretty remarkable.  Bag of Bones is set to air sometime in December so they have about two months to design the sound, overlay the score, complete the effects and edit the film.

After the fourth or fifth run, we were wrapped.  I gathered up my crap and we all shuffled out the bank's front entrance.  As we were leaving, a van pulled up to whisk Annabeth Gish away.  Still engorified and characteristically shoeless, she took a moment to wave and thank us all for coming out.  A spontaneous outpouring of applause came from the crowd, obviously meant to acknowledge her own down to earth nature and gung-ho attitude.

Mike the P.A., still a fount of boundless energy despite being soaked to the skin, jumped up on a low stone wall to address us:

"I just want to thank each and every one of you guys for coming out today and being so co-operative and patient.  Without you, we wouldn't have much of a movie so...thanks a lot!"

Mike generated his own ovation as he took a bow and hopped down off the wall.  En route back to the church, people kept asking how he could possibly be still standing upright.

"Oh, I'm fine as long as I don't sit down.  If I were to sit down right now, I'd probably go into a coma."

Many of us could relate, but compared to Mike's eventful and protracted day, we really didn't have a reason to gripe:

"I've been up since about 5 am and likely I won't be leaving tonight until around 9.  Then, of course, by the time I get home I'll be too amped-up to sleep.  So, I'll probably be lucky if I get to sleep around 2 pm.  At least I don;t have to come in tomorrow..."
   En route back to the church one of the extras dressed as a cop indulged in a little power trip.  While we were waiting to cross a busy four-way intersection, we managed to coax this guy into walking out into the street to pose as a traffic cop.  It didn't take much goading for him to stride out and stop traffic dead and wave us across.  We didn't even have to ask him at the next crosswalk! 

As expected, since we'd run out of paperwork at the beginning of the day, people who hadn't even signed in yet were processed before any of us got a chance to leave.  This really didn't phase me at all since it gave me a chance to chat more with Shannon, Ashley and a girl named Martina, who recognized me from the set of Roller Town.  

By the time we'd gotten signed out, it was well after six.  In a kind gesture, the production crew rounded up our times so they could pay us for a full twelve hours.  I thought this was a very classy move, but to be perfectly honest, I probably would have paid Mick Garris and company for the privilege of being there myself.    

Before I left I overheard a couple of people lamenting  about how long the day had been.  Instantly, I harkened back to something P.A. Mike had said while we were walking back to the church that last time:

"Look, if I was being screamed at by some asshole customer in a retail store over something I didn't even do, that would feel like a long day!  But running around on a film set for twelve hours?  This isn't even like work to me!  I live for this stuff!"  

Say on, brotha, say on...

FIN

EPIC In the age of digital film-making, it doesn't take long to cobble together an awesome looking
"sneak peak" vid to promote your film:


FAIL  Man I could only imagine how awkward it would have been to be on the Terminator: Salvation set that particular day:

Bag of Awesome - Part IV

Good Eeefning, Cheeldren of the Night!

Before leaving the Bag of Bones set on Friday afternoon, I began to hear rumors that we'd be shooting the big "Jo Noonan gets smoked by a bus" sequence on Granville street in the heart of downtown Halifax.  I was immediately skeptical since there were no bookstores in that area I could think of.  Where could we possibly emerge, Stargate-style, that would jibe with what we'd already shot?  

My curiosity was further piqued when I received the call sheet later that evening.  The header offered some enticing clues as to what was in store for us:

"Hello Everyone,

Thank you for taking this Background Performer Call for us on Saturday September 24, 2011.

Have a great day on Set with us and please remember that it is not good Set etiquette to ask for autographs and the taking of photographs is strictly forbidden...thank you for understanding!

You have been asked to PLEASE COME CAMERA READY WITH WARDROBE, HAIR AND MAKE-UP IN PLACE

Location: St. David’s Church corner of Blowers and Market St.
Parking: Please park on side streets

Call times vary so please locate your name (not in alphabetical order) on the call sheet and arrive at background holding at the time specified.

PLEASE REMEMBER TO CONFIRM RECEIPT OF THIS EMAIL

Review of costume notes:

Please bring appropriate rain gear ie. Raincoat and / or umbrella, your Social Insurance Number, and Full address.

NYC Bookstore Patrons:
Same as Friday

Midtown Passerbys, Pharmacy Patrons, & NYC Drivers:
Generally this look is high end - big city - very sharp and crisp – non seasonal – colors should be earth tones. Shirt colors should be pale grey, off white, creams, blues).   The style range is from business suits/office attire to upscale casual attire. Jewelry should be tasteful upscale for business attire can be larger for upscale casual attire.  Also bring with you a casual option ie. Jeans and a shirt.  Please bring 3 options from head to toe!

NYPD:
We would ask the Background performers to provide – a white crew neck t-shirt, black lace up classic shoes, black sox.

Paramedics:
Background performers to provide – a white crew neck t-shirt, black lace up classic shoes, black socks.

Pharmacy Staff:
Wear neutral solid colors, either beige or grey shirt/blouse and darker pants, navy, grey or brown (a dress pant or casual style, No jeans) and comfortable shoe.

FOR EVERYONE:
No red
No black
No white
No logos
No sandals

Best Regards"


Since I couldn't see any reference to Granville Street in the email proper, I hastily opened up the first attachment.  After noticing that Ashley and I were listed first and second respectively at the top of call sheet, I then proceeded to check out the second document.  This turned out to be a secret map to all of Saturday's relevant locations:

So, as it turned out, the Church would merely serve as our holding area and we'd likely be walking down to the actual set on Granville.  Again, I tried to puzzle out what could possibly double for a genuine-looking book emporium down there.  I honestly couldn't think of anything.

But then I remembered the old adage of cinema:  if you can find the proper reality, just make it.

The details revealed by this privileged document instantly gave me the impression that we were in for a very long day.  Notwithstanding our call time of 7:30 AM, the sheer number of extras being called in to pull this scene off was crazy.  Between pedestrians, drivers, bookstore patrons, cops, firemen, paramedics, punk rockers and our own humble little continuity group, there were eighty-five people who'd been tapped to become human window dressing for this scene.

Mercifully I didn't have to worry about my wardrobe this time out.  In fact, I'd probably be beaten to death with a sack filled with rusty doorknobs if I'd showed up wearing anything but my outfit from the previous day.  So, as a result, my evening was pretty casual.  I just carefully re-ironed the same clothes and made sure to put aside the same ugly tie.  It was also going to be my first Saturday shoot, which was super-convenient.  After all, this meant that I could drive down to the set in my own car instead of running the risk of marinating in a pool of someone else's urine while sitting on a bus seat.

The downside was that the location wasn't a quick bip up the street like the previous day.  To ensure that I'd have sufficient time to wake up, caffeineate, snack, pack up and get down there, I set my alarm for 6 am.

Look, I'm perfectly capable of getting up early like any other self-respecting adult, but there are just some times on the 24-hour clock when its a bloody crime against humanity to be standing upright and shuffling around like an olde-skool George Romero zombie.  When that goddamn alarm clock starts bleating at you to get up, you sway drunkenly to your feet and then crack your sleep-sealed eyelids only to realize that it's still pitch dark outside...well that, Gentle Reader, is just wrong.

Remember back when you were just a kid and you needed about sixteen hours of sleep just to survive?  Remember how awful it was to have your parents rouse you out of your warm cocoon at an ungodly hour just to facilitate some mid-winter road trip?  They had to get you up at, like, 4:30 in the morning in order to catch a plane or a train or a Chinese junk in order to kick-start some sort of nightmarish "vacation"?

Then you'd wake up around 11 am in the back of a moving car, with only the vaguest recollection of pulling a Lazarus, putting your shirt on backwards, gagging on toothpaste and nearly drowning after falling forward into a mixing bowl filled with Corn Pops.  I really firmly believe that there's no way we can shake off these traumatic childhood memories, even as grown adults.  That resentment is still there, folks, it's just bubbling there underneath the surface.

Having said that, I'm also not one to sleep in late, spring out of bed with barely any time to spare, and then start running around the house like a madman.  I need a bit of time to take my first tentative bites of the shit sandwich that mornings often serve up.  Now, granted, this attitude is really a hangover from my call center days, when I had to do these daily rituals in order to come to grips with the fact that I was about to piss away the next nine hours of my life.  But what can I say?  I guess old habits die hard.

The next morning I hopped into the ole's Ninjamobile and sped off to my destination on Market Street.  With the day still newborn, traffic was scarce and parking was plentiful.  I found a spot on a side street close to the church and then hopped out.  To add to the morning's doldrums, it was extremely dark and dreary outside.  To try and keep my Captain Continuity monkey suit protected, I'd wisely chosen to wear a long gray trench-coat and carry an umbrella.  To the casual onlooker I must have looked like the world's most gung-ho yuppie.

The precise location for holding was in the basement of St. David's Church.  While the parish itself is technically on Brunswick Street, the grounds also border on Market and Grafton.  I'd actually been in the basement of this place before to attend an indie craft fair, but the entrance that I'd used before was locked up tight.  The surrounding environs were so quiet and deserted that I started to become paranoid that I was in the wrong place.

Mercifully, I spied one of my fellow continuity peeps who was also trying to figure out how to get inside.  After reassuring each other that we weren't nuts, we then proceeded to search for secret doors in the church's outer walls like D&D characters.  After tapping, listening and running our hands along three-quarters of the walls, we finally spied some activity at the top of Blowers Street.  A gaggle of crew-members standing next to a craft services truck were loitering around just outside.  Half way up the hill we finally noticed our first bit of low-key and ultimately completely useless orientation signage.

I ventured downstairs and saw that it was already a hive of activity.  I don't know what it is about church basements but they all smell the same.  That evocative but unmistakable odor of books, residual incense, mildew and righteousness always takes me back to my childhood.  Instantly I'm eight years old again and preparing to lead my Cub Scout pack through a hearty round of  DYBs and/or DOBs.

Soon I'm re-united with Ashley and Shannon and we quickly completed our daily ritual of check in paperwork. I wandered around for little a bit and then bumped into a former co-worker who's been making a real splash in the local entertainment scene lately.  Her name is Naomi-Joy, and she's a recovering call center employee and former real estate agent.  Even before jettisoning the drudgery of 9-5 toil she'd gained notoriety as a finalist for Canadian Idol and as a front-woman for the prog-metal band AQuestrya.  More recently she's started to investigate acting opportunities full-time and has already appeared as the lead in short films such as Snappy's and in live theater with the Fringe Festival smash Steal Away Home.

Naomi was dressed as one of the "punk rockers" listed on the call sheet.  Not that I was surprised since the leggings, skirt, bustier and bitchin' boots she was hastily trying to strap on likely counts as standard issue attire for her live performances with AQuestrya.  We quickly took a moment to catch up before I went back to my table for some announcements.

Mike the PA showed up, looking decidedly more besieged then usual.  Turns out that Maria, one of the other PA's is sick, so he was charged with running the show almost single-handed for most of the day.  Immediately my heart went out to the guy.  I saw how challenging it was to herd thirty extras in a single interior location the day before.  I could only imagine what it was going to be like to try and wrangle over eighty extras, especially considering that we had to walk down to the set.  In an omen for things to come, they didn't have enough check-in forms to accommodate all of the background performers, which I immediately interpreted to mean that the end of our day was going to be very interesting.    

I  watched in fascination as some big dudes arrived and then promptly got outfitted as paramedics and cops.  I could also swear that some of these guys arrived already dressed up as firemen.  As it turned out, I wasn't hallucinating after all.  Well, at least not on that particular occasion.  Not long after, I overheard that more often then not these guys are actually real emergency personnel, which makes sense, since they certainly look and act the part.

Me, Shannon and Ashley chat for a bit before the makeup and wardrobe folks come by.  I receive a bit of a touch up since the heat and humidity is already starting to make my face look a bit "dewy".  I'm also slightly alarmed when no-one comes by with the continuity photos to give me final clearance to leave for the set.  Just seconds before we're out the door I stop someone to get validation but all I get in return is:

"Are you wearing the same things you were wearing yesterday?"

"Yes."

"Then your fine!"

As a precaution, I grabbed my pack containing my entire ugly tie collection and prepared to join the mass business-attired exodus.

To make things even more interesting, it had begun to pour out of the heavens.  Everyone except the "emergency personnel" was part of that pilgrimage, which Mike led very expertly.  People on the street started craning their necks to look at us, obviously trying to puzzle out what the hell all of these well-appointed people were doing.  After all, we were all clumped together and shuffling down the street like daycare kids with thyroid conditions and impeccable fashion sense.   

En route to the set, Mike lost his shit on us a couple of times.  I can't say that I blame him since the people at the head of the pack kept failing to hold up at stop signs and crosswalks as requested.  I knew that if the throng split up, if someone wandered off, or if an extra ended up mounted underneath the grill of an Escalade Mike would probably be crucified.  This was driven home earlier when I heard Mike say perhaps the funniest thing ever uttered by another human being:

"Put it this way: everybody who isn't me...is my boss!"

I'm tellin' you right now, if the dude were to copyright and print that shit up on a t-shirt it wouldn't take very long for him to become his own boss.

Mike tried to keep our route as simple as possible to prevent attrition.  We beetled out way deeper into the downtown core, first trucking down hilly Market Street, then crossing Barrington and finally traveling north west on Granville until we reached the set.  It wasn't hard to tell that we were approaching something big, really big.  The George Street intersection had been cut off and the strip of Granville that separated the RBC building from the TD Center was positively choked with activity.

To simulate a busy New York city downtown scene, they had a slew of civilian cars parked two abreast on both sides of the street, with a little clearing right in the middle.  In addition to this we also noticed the presence of several very legitimate-looking taxis, police vehicles and ambulances which looked as if they'd been teleported right from the streets of Manhattan.

Obeying the "no photography" rule, I didn't take any snaps but I did want to include some images from the interwebs just to give you an idea as to what these life-sized props looked like...

In addition to all the exotic-looking vehicles, soon the extras dressed as cops, firemen and paramedics showed up on the scene and began milling around.

There were also a slew of people just posing as pedestrians and onlookers, including Naomi decked out in her "rock-a-ware".  As we were led towards our fraudulent storefront, I thought about how all of this had been coordinated for what might only be four or five minutes worth of screen time.  Amazing.

The set decorators hadn't even bothered to find a real bookstore to convert, they'd just redressed the side entrance to the RBC building.  Just inside the front window were rows of  the fake Noonan book They All Fall Down as well as a huge promotional poster featuring Pierce Brosnan in an appropriately authorial pose.  Even though our holding area was just inside it was far enough away from the camera to ensure a flawless illusion.

Just inside the side entrance, the corridor branched off to the left, presumably leading to offices.  The main chair-lined passage continued on straight ahead for about forty feet and then hooked a sharp right.  As instructed, Shannon, Ashley and myself took a seat at the far end of this long hallway and began to speculate as to what interesting sights and experiences might be imminent.

Soon we were reunited with our respective wayward prop books from the day before.  Regrettably, the inside cover of my copy was lamentable pristine, with no signature in sight.  As of this writing I still have no idea why the props department abducted my copy, got it "signed" and then gave it back to me.  Somebody really needs to get the guys from Homicide: Life on the Streets on this.  
 
Pretty soon P.A. Mike materialized again to try and organize us into different groups.  Already I'm amazed that he hasn't experienced some sort of stroke.  To make communicating instructions even more frustrating, a small handful of extras had wandered around the bend and were drifting around the main lobby of the bank's arcade.  This really wasn't a major transgression, since chairs had purposefully been placed around the bend accommodate overflow, but some people had started nosing as if they were in the friggin' Louvre.

Initially our little continuity group was excluded in lieu of designating some fresh faces to walk around outside and constitute packs of post-collision gawkers.  Mike divided the gathered into groups One, Two and  Three and groups A, B and C.  As a result of either sleep deprivation or complete mental exhaustion this process was both protracted and quite confusing. 

"Alright," he says, struggling to keep everyone focused. "If someone comes in here and asks for Group B, who's gonna raise their hands?"

A small contingent of extras tentatively raised their mitts towards the fluorescent sun overhead.

"Okay, good.  And if someone, especially someone other than me, comes in here and asks for say...Group Three, who do we have?"

Another cadre of background folks raised their hands sheepishly as if confessing to breaking wind.

"Okay, excellent, perfect," he muttered and then swept a lock of wet hair out of his eyes.  He dashed off again, presumably to try and exterminate another handful of hypothetical fires that had probably cropped up during the time he'd taken to address us.

Naturally, based on the dictates of Murphy's Law, there were a few hiccups when these groups were eventually called upon.  Some of the extras had gotten so strung out for a nicotine fix, that they'd propped open the doors to the front lobby for the express purpose of smoking just outside.  Naturally this played havoc whenever the P.A.'s were attempting to locate everyone.
 
For a little while, the movie people tried to ban folks from going out that door to smoke, but I imagine that someone must have thrown a diva addiction hissy fit.  This privilege was soon reinstated with the caveat that they had to tell someone on the crew where they were going before heading off to Project Black Lung.

To make matters worse, the washrooms could only be found by navigating an elaborate maze that would confuse the crap out of Theseus.  This epic journey started by taking either a flight of steps or an elevator ride, then trundling down a corridor, then passing through a doorway, then turning left down another hall, then passing through yet another portal, then hoofing down a shorter passageway and then going through the bathroom door.  During the last leg of my first pee crusade I half-expected some old, one-eyed man to leap out and yell: "Answer me these questions three!"

After some background folks were placed strategically outside, Ashley and I were selected to walk out the front door just behind actress Annabeth Gish, who was playing Mike Noonan's wife Jo.  At first we thought this was kind of odd since the continuity established on the previous day dictated that we should still be standing in the lineup long after she left the bookstore.

We also didn't want to protest too loudly because it seemed like a cool scene.  As we waited just inside the door with Annabeth, the wardrobe people finally came by with the continuity photos and gave us the thumbs up.  Even more baffling, the props guy from the day before tried to give us plastic shopping bags to carry our books in as we left the "store".  When this clearly confirmed that we'd actually "purchased" our books already, we just had to say something.

"When did we pay for these?" Ashley whispered, waving her prop novel underneath my nose.  "Aren't we still supposed to be waiting in the lineup to get our book signed when Mike's wife gets hit by the bus?"

"Yeah, I know," I replied.  "From a continuity standpoint, it doesn't make any sense."

When the propmaster tried to insist that we take the shopping bag just before the cameras started rolling, we protested.  We patiently explained that there was no way we could have made it through the lineup, gotten our book signed, paid for it and then gotten back outside before the accident.

"Alright!" he capitulated, then stalked off.



This modest little triumph must have gone straight to our heads.  The closer the time came for Annabeth to walk out that door, the more we thought that we were about to consciously participate in a pretty hefty continuity error.  We mentioned this to a few of the crew standing around nearby and got one of three responses in return:

"Huh?"

"What?"

Or my own personal favorite:

"Oh, don't worry, it'll be alright."

Even Annabeth seemed sympathetic to our cause.


"You can't really tell continuity anything," she told us.  "They've got it figured out."



Appropriately reassured, we proceeded to shoot the scene, which was quite elementary.  Annabeth went out through the door and crossed the street.  We followed just a few beats behind her, then turned right and walked down the sidewalk, miming an animated conversation along the way.  We did this about three times,
varying our "performance" by gesturing to our books, pointing out the promotional signage in the window or babbling excitedly to one another.

We did several takes and every time we marched back inside, I couldn't help but marvel at the huge coordinated pantomime being played out around us.  Simultaneous to what we were doing, Annabeth was dashing across the street, drivers navigating a score of vehicles were simulating the early stages of road rage, oblivious pedestrians were walking towards non-existent destinations and fake city cops were keeping a vigilant eye out over everything.  Every time we were asked to reset, we just went right back to our starting places as if some higher power had hit ◄◄ on their omnipotent remote control.

After the forth go-round we waited for the command to "return to first positions" but it never came.  The shot was complete!  No sooner were we back to our seats before the debate flared up again about how wrong-headed things seemed to be from a continuity standpoint.  Fortunately, a girl whom Ashley had befriended chimed in.  Although her name escapes me right now, I know that she's done enough local films to warrant her own IMDB listing, so her opinion certainly carried tremendous weight.

"Keep in mind that the last shot might have been from so far back that you two weren't even recognizable," she told us.  "When you see the scene, you probably won't even to be able to tell that you're the same two people standing in the lineup."

"Plus there's all sorts of editing trick they can do," Shannon contributed.  "Trust me, they know what they're doing."

Both of us felt somewhat idiotic for dwelling on this so much.  Ashley was particularly upset over the fact that we'd refused to put our books in the plastic shopping bags when we had the chance.  In retrospect, this  certainly would make a lot more sense if we were two completely different characters.   

"Naw, I would have refused the plastic bag anyway," I maintained.  "It's actually written into my contract that every character I portray on screen is environmentally conscious."

After we had a few yuks over this, craft services arrived with a military-style blitzkrieg of nummy treats.  We'd been fed and watered so efficiently the day before that I hadn't bothered to pack my own lunch, so their timely arrival was quite welcome.  Unfortunately I only managed to snag half of a very tasty veggie sandwich before the balance was torn asunder like Captain Rhodes in Day of the Dead.  

Meanwhile the crew was feverishly prepping for the big accident scene just outside.  Some of the street-level extras were called back out to lens the sequence in which the dummy representing Annabeth Gish gets plowed down in the street by a bus.  In fact, a small handful of lucky folks were even selected to be passengers on the bus when it ran into the dummy.   

When I caught a glimpse Annabeth's plastic stand-in I thought it was kinda eerie.  Special effects have certainly come a long way from throwing a lame, floppy fabric dummy off the top of a windmill like they did in the 1932 version of Frankenstein.  This one was very closely modeled after the actress herself.  It had the same height, body type, hair style and even eye color.  The mannequin doppelganger was also attired in identical clothing: white top with red flowers, red shirt and red high heels.  It was friggin' creepy.

They wanted to keep the exits clear while making these pivotal preparations, but I still manged to sneak a few peeks.  The crew was diligently working to clear the street to allow the stunt driver behind wheel of the bus an opportunity to really build up some momentum as it bore down on the mannequin. 

Needless to say, with such a complicated sequence, it took quite awhile to set things up.  In fact, I was half-way back down the hall (after my third glimpse out of the window) before I realized that they weren't doing another rehearsal.  I heard a powerful motor rev up, caught several blasts of a loud horn and then detected the distinct sound of the bus slamming into something like a bag filled with wet cement.  Just as I got back up to the entrance I saw the tail end of the bus fly by at top speed.

When "Cut!" was called, the "sick little monkey" factor kicked in as a round of applause and cheers went up.  Disgraceful!

But still pretty cool. 

Next time on my Emblogification Capture Device:

• DEATH!
• BLOOD!
• DRAMA!
• MAYHEM!
• STRIFE!
• F-BOMBS!
• PORK LOIN!

Join me later this week for the thrilling conclusion!   
           
EPIC I wonder if Mick Garris considers Bag of Bones to be a walk in the park compared to adapting The Stand?    

http://www.amazon.com/Stephen-Langoliers-Stand-Golden-Years/dp/B000RZIGUE/ref=sr_1_1?s=movies-tv&ie=UTF8&qid=1318362843&sr=1-1
  
FAIL This heart-rending doc shows just how horribly awry film productions can go.  Honestly, it's like a comedy of errors...



   

Bag of Awesome - Part III

Felicitations, Fearsome Film Fans!

Well, after thinking that my brief stint on the set of the A&E mini-series Bag of Bones was over,  you can imagine my surprise when I received the following email from Johanna at Ballyhoo Casting a few weeks later:

Good afternoon,

We are currently looking for background performers for a scene in Stephen King’s Bag of Bones that is scheduled to take place Friday September 23, 2011 in Halifax.  We are currently looking to see if you are available on this date.  As the hours on a film set can vary, we ask that you keep this in mind and that we do not know in advance what time it will start or finish.  You would be required to bring your own costume consisting of upscale high end clothing, this includes business suits, office attire and upscale casual.

Please let me know as soon as possible if you are interested and available!

Looking forward to hearing from you!

Unfortunately, this email came through on the 19'th and I was now reading it a full day later.  Although I'm still enamored with the charmingly romantic Luddite notion of not owning a smart phone (and the thrilling emancipation from digital ball n' chains like Facebook that comes with it), it also keeps you dangerously out of the loop when a speedy reply to such queries is critical.

And trust me, my current phone is dumb.  Like, beagle-level dumb.  Put it this way: my phone rides the short bus to school.

Mercifully, it wasn't too late.  After I confirmed my initial availability, I received this:

Good evening everyone!

Thank you again for taking this call and joining us as background performers on Stephen King’s Bag of Bones on Friday September 23!  The location will be in Bayers Lake and the exact civic address and call time will be emailed out tomorrow night after filming has finished for the day.

Please find the costume notes below:

NYC Bookstore Patrons

This look is high end - big city - very sharp and crisp – non seasonal – colors should be earth tones. Shirt colors should be pale grey, off white, creams, blues.   The style range is from business suits/office attire to upscale casual attire. Jewelry should be tasteful upscale for business attire can be larger for upscale casual attire.

Thanks again everyone,

Soon Johanna sent another email asking me if I could do Saturday as well.  This offer was both unexpected and fortuitous.  If I could get into a continuity group, I knew this might translate into a lot of additional hours on set.  She also tried to pin me down to confirm that I possessed "a variety of wardrobe."  Here was my response:

Hi, Johanna.

I have a dark navy sports jacket, three pairs of formal pants (one grey, two in a beige-ish hue), seven dress shirts (two blue, one is a muted maroon color, and several prints: cream/white stripe, black, olive print, grey/brown).

I also have two pairs of shoes and a few sweaters which could pass for business casual.   

And I'm also available for both days.

Thanks! 


And here was her reply:

Hi David,

Great!  I will put in for both days, you will be wearing the same thing both days too but please still bring your options.  As per the wardrobe listed below, sounds good but just avoid the patterns or anything flashy.

Have a great day,

Johanna

I was in!  This immediately set me up for the sometimes-protracted and always-painful process of waiting for your call time.  Typically this involves coming to grips with getting up the next morning at the the most ungodly hour you can imagine and then shaving two more hours off of this just to accommodate your nigh-impractical, bus-locomoted travel time.

There was one clue in the previous email that did look very promising, however. Johanna had made a vague reference to a bookstore scene to be shot in Bayers Lake, all the while remaining somewhat coy as to the exact address.

First off, I was already heartened that I wouldn't have to travel very far, since my apartment is only about five minutes away from Bayers Lake by car.  Normally when I do this sort of thing I'm forced to shlep myself and my 80-pound garment bag all over hell and creation by bus.  Being acutely familiar with the business park, I also knew that there was only one possible location we could be shooting in.  This was confirmed when I received the call sheet later that evening:

Hello Everyone,

Thank you for taking this Background Performer Call for us.

Have a great day on Set with us and please remember that it is not good Set etiquette to ask for autographs and the taking of photographs is strictly forbidden...thank you for understanding!

You have been asked to PLEASE COME CAMERA READY WITH WARDROBE, HAIR AND MAKE-UP IN PLACE

Location: KIDS ZONE CHAPTERS BOOKSTORE 188 Chain Lake Drive Bayers Lake NS
Parking: Please park in the upper parking lot up from Chapters towards Empire Theatres

CALL TIME IS 8:30AM

PLEASE REMEMBER TO CONFIRM RECEIPT OF THIS EMAIL

Review of costume notes:

NYC Bookstore Patrons


    This look is high end - big city - very sharp and crisp – non seasonal – colors should be earth tones. Shirt colors should be pale grey, off white, creams, blues.   The style range is from business suits/office attire to upscale casual attire. Jewelry should be tasteful upscale for business attire can be larger for upscale casual attire.

    NO red, white or black
    No sandals
    No logos
    Ladies, please make sure your shoes are not too loud as the microphones will pick up the noise

       Please bring 3 options from head to toe

Thanks again!   

I was right!  Our location would be the free-standing Chapters book store up by the movie theater.  In many ways, it was a great location for the cast and crew as well.  There would be ample parking, little to no traffic congestion, amenities close by and it would likely be very quiet on an early Friday morning.   

While waiting to receive this valuable missive, I'd also begun the tedious process of washing and ironing everything precious, even though I suspected that this was a colossal waste of time.  Although I've been lucky enough to appear in every film I've done background work for, I also know that you're likely to be on-screen for only about a nanosecond or you'll be reduced to nothing but a blurry blob in the foreground or background.

Nevertheless, I can't help but make a tentative effort to look semi-presentable.  And trust me, I despise ironing.  It's pure hell for anyone who's as OCD as I am.  Mercifully, my Infinitely Better Half (I.B.H.) helped me with this unpalatable task, for which I'm eternally grateful.

Knowing that my trip to the set next morning would be relatively painless, I actually slept quite well.  After breezing though my morning ritual, I got a lift up to the bookstore courtesy of my I.B.H.   Man, I am so grateful that I'm hooked up with someone who is so understanding and accommodating.  I love ya, babe!

The tell-tale movie set signs were unmistakable.  As soon as we pulled into the parking lot we saw a slew of trucks, lighting equipment and crew members out front guzzling down liquid consciousness and scarfing sugary jolts of fried energy.  As I hopped out of the car and grabbed my garment bag out of the trunk, I couldn't help but wonder how much the production company would be paying to the store to keep it closed for most of the day.  It had to be a tidy sum, certainly.

Director Mick Garris arrived on set just behind me.  Once inside, Mike, one of the film's Production Assistants, directed me to the Indigo Kids section in the back corner.  En route I took stock of the feverish activity going on all around me.  The art department was re-dressing the interior to make it look as if it was hosting a major metropolitan book signing.  The Chapters signs were all obscured by a new store name: "Watermans".  Fake posters promoting the "personal appearance" and mock-up copies of Mike Noonan's fictional novel They All Fall Down decorated the once-mundane space.  I was completely amazed by how perfect the illusion seemed to be.

When I got to the back of the store, about thirty additional extras were arrayed in a semi-cirle of folding chairs, all dressed like well-to-do Manhattanites.  All of the chairs were facing a small table where P.A's Mike and Maria were frantically trying to keep up with the deluge of sign-in paperwork being generated.  Fortunately since I can fill out these slips in my sleep now, I was able to complete my check-in, find a place to hang up my garment bag and eke out a spot to sit down in quick order.

Occasionally Mike and another P.A. named Adam called for our attention in order to impart some critical instructions.  During these interludes, I couldn't help but wonder if these guys would have more success wrangling a pack of nip-intoxicated cats.  In quick succession they supplied pertinent pieces of information to complete our paperwork, summarized the do's and don't of set etiquette, and confirmed those among us who were tapped to come back the next day for continuity work (myself included).  Their most explosive revelation, however, was that the Chapters store was intending to stay open during filming!

Given how imperative it usually is to ensure a complete and total lack of noise on a film set, this announcement immediately set tongues a-wagging amongst the horde of background actors.  Despite the obvious challenges that I knew this will pose, I also suspected that a Friday morning wouldn't be too busy and that the crew would be more then capable of retaining some semblance of order.

The stand-in for Mike Noonan and his wife Jo soon appeared.  They looked very familiar to me and I assumed that they were most likely local actors of some renown.  At precicely 9:10 AM a blocking rehearsal began.  Unlike so many others who are either texting, gabbing or preening (or sometimes doing all three at once) I edged up to the boundaries of our designated playpen to watch what was going on.  From my vantage point I could clearly see Mick Garris presiding over the hive of activity.

Annika, one of the wardrobe assistants, breezed through, looking for blatant fashion faux-pas.  She quickly and efficiently made her way through the crowd, eliminating any blacks, whites, gaudy jewelry, seasonal clothing, wild prints or any other styles and colors deemed too gouache for a dignified New Yorker.  I got an initial pass but didn't make it past the keen aesthetics of the main wardrobe lady, who reminded me a bit of Edna Mode from The Incredibles.  Apparently she thought that there were just too many guys dressed in blue shirts.

"Did you bring anything else, dear?" she queryied, her reference to me sounding vaguely fraudulent.

"Yes, I certainly did," I replied.  "In fact I kind of went overboard!"

Of all the options I'd brought along, the shirt she picked out for me to wear was a vaguely iridescent, maroonish affair.  Not willing to bait her aura of authority, I hastily got put it on and then went to fetch my tie collection as instructed.  I quickly picked out the one which I thought looked to be the closest match.

"Oh, goodness, no!" she protested, turning her nose up as if I'd just pulled a piece of St. Bernard poop out of my pack.  "That's far too ugly and busy...what else do you have?"

Slightly wounded, I rummaged around in my bag filled with psychotropic fabric and pulled out a second choice that met with her grudging approval.  Now cleared to proceed, I hung around the hinterland of our holding space to see how things were progressing.  It was then that I noticed a very distinctive-looking woman meandering around amidst the stacks of books.

She was very slim, attractive, and held the vaguest resemblance to a young Sigourney Weaver.  She was clad in a white blouse with red flowers and a slim, knee-length red skirt.  Except for her distinct aura and eye-catching wardrobe, she was behaving like a typical shopper, browsing around, picking up the odd book or knick-knack for closer inspection.  Despite her low-profile, I recognized her right away.

It was Annabeth Gish, who's been consistently busy as a film and television actress since appearing as "Jesse" in the coming-of-age drama Desert Bloom in 1986.  She's also been Julia Robert's sister in Mystic Pizza, played Julie Nixon Eisenhower in Oliver Stone's Nixon and shared screen time with both Tommy Lee Jones and Ashley Judd in the thriller Double Jeopardy.  Personally I remember her best for her stint in the last two seasons of The X-Files as special agent Monica Reyes.  

After meandering amongst the bookshelves, Annabeth was corralled by one of the costume ladies who chided her for strolling around barefoot.  She produced a pair of comfy slippers which the actress happily slipped on, then she drifted back to her directors chair.  The actress enjoyed a quick wrap for breakfast while swaddled in a comfy, warm blanket.  After that she used her phone (which was clearly more intelligent  then my own) to check her email.

"Okay...husband still there...check!   Kids still alive...check!"  I heard her joke with the makeup girls.

This seemed to buoy her spirits considerably.  After a quick 'Good Morning!' exchange with Mick Garris, she resumed puttering about the store, phone now anchored to her ear as she continued her quest for gifts to bring home.

Her two young sons must have a Star Wars fetish since she lingered close to the Clone Wars story books in the Kids Section for quite some time.  I immediately had to tamp down the urge to rush over and shout "FOR THE LOVE OF GOD DON'T BUY ANYTHING THAT HAS JAR JAR BINKS IN IT!"

I can only imagine how much these people must miss their families, spirited away from them for months at a time.  After all, this was day thirty-five of a thirty-nine day schedule for Bag of Bones.  That's actually a fairly long shoot, but then again, the show is supposed to materialize late in the fall on A&E as four hour long episodes.

Eventually Mike and Maria gathered us all together to go over the scene.  Mega-author Mike Noonan (Pierce Brosnan) is making  a special appearance at bookstore in New York City to sign copies of his latest best-seller.  Noonan's wife Jo (Annabeth Gish), anticipating an awkward and lengthy exchange with a very intense fan, excuses herself from the table to go to lunch, kisses her husband and then dashes off for a secret errand at a pharmacy.  En route back to the bookstore, Jo is tragically struck down in the street by a bus.

After we were given the synopsis I struck up a conversation with another background performer.  I can't remember his name off-hand, but he was a motor coach driver who dabbled with background work in his spare time. We got to talking about a variety of subjects: cruise line guests, history, screenwriting and a slew of other engaging topics.

So engrossed was I in our dialogue that I failed to heed my own Golden Rule: listen to the P.A.'s at all times and try to be the first one on set.  At first, I just noticed a small trickle of extras filter by so I just assumed that these were the ones specifically designated as "Noonan Fans" on the call sheet.  In other words, I thought these guys were pre-designated for the front of the line-up.

But when that trickle became a flood I realized, all too late, that I'd missed the initial general call for the continuity people.  By the time I rushed out there I found myself towards the back of the lineup.  The down side was that I'd be too far away from the table to watch Pierce signing autographs.  The upshot was that I met two fantastic people.  I got to know them pretty well since, for the sake of continuity, we were asked to stick pretty close together. 

One was Shannon, who's 12 year old son is already making quite a splash as an actor, particularly in Haven.  Her awareness of the local film and television scene gave me some awesome leads especially in the arena of voice acting work and possible ways to secure transportation to far-flung locations.  Shannon would prove to be witty and insightful company over the next two days.

The other person was Ashley.  It was her first time doing background work on a movie set and I couldn't help but be reminded of my own introductory experience on Hobo With A Shotgun.  You could tell that she was bursting at the seams with excitement.  She seemed to be very aware of the process and always had relevant questions, particularly in the realm of continuity.  Whip-smart and possessed of a wicked sense of humor, Ashley could always be counted upon for a wry observation or a funny quip.

Now arrayed in the line-up, some crew-members came by and gave us one of  Mike's many "novels" to hold as a prop.  Turns out that Mike Noonan is a pretty prolific dude; I noticed at least four or five distinct books dressed up with fake titles.  I was given a copy of his latest release: They All Fall Down which was featured in the bookstore's promotional material.

I was amazed by the detail.  Wrapped around a real copy of Stephen King's Duma Key  was an illusory dustjacket that looked completely legitimate.  The graphic designers had composed an evocative  cover image depicting a silhouetted figure plummeting to earth between several high-rise buildings with crow-like birds flying in the air around him.  They'd even gone through the trouble of coming up with a plot synopsis, inside flap notes, author's bio, and a photo of Pierce as Mike on the back cover.  Brilliant!

The guest of honor himself soon arrived.  Pierce Brosnan came on set and walked all the way down the line, bidding us all an individual 'Good Morning' as he went.  As he passed by me, I held up the back cover of the prop book with his picture and said:

"Good morning!  Great book by the way!"

He paused for a second, cocked an eyebrow and said in his best deadpan manner:

"Yes!  It's just as good as King's!"

We had a good chuckle as Pierce made his way to the back of the lineup and said 'Hello' to the other extras who were placed strategically all around the story as casual patrons.  He then proceeded to putter around for a little bit, examining the odd book before drifting back to the table where the "signing" would take place.

A rehearsal of the action then followed.  A few people at the head of the lineup got to "meet" Mike, had their book's signed and then turned to leave, miming excited conversation as they went.  Then the "Superfan" showed up, bearing a massive stack of first editions in his arms which he then dropped in front of Mike with a tremendous crash.  Although I couldn't see the exchange from where I was standing, I could certainly hear it.

"Hello, Mr. Noonan," the Superfan said, his voice sounding monotone, yet assertive.  "I'm your biggest fan."

This cracked me up, since it was clearly an homage to that other King-spun tale of obsessive fandom gone horribly awry: Misery.

"So...," Mike/Pierce replied, "I suppose you want me to sign...all...of these?"

"Yes, all of them," came the insistent reply.

"Right, then," Mike heaved a sigh as he resigned himself to a bout of carpel tunnel syndrome.  "And how should I make these out to you?"

"To my BEST FRIEND," the Superfan replied.

"Best...best friend, huh?"

"BEST friend, yes." 

I can hear members of the crew, chief amongst them director Mick Garris, begin to chuckle uncontrollably as the rehearsal spun down.  Soon we were getting ready to go for real.  Mick and his A.D. started coordinating a steady-cam shot along the right flank of our prodigious lineup.  As the camera passed by, we were tasked to crane our necks ahead, act anxious and excited and then turn back and forth to other people in the lineup and mime a conversation.  It was a tricky shot since the steady-cam operator had to navigate a narrow path between us and several large display tables, while nailing all the required coverage at the end of the shot.

While the final choreography was being ironed out I started joking around that a prominent display rack featuring Justin Beiber's latest magnum opus First Step To Forever would spoil the shot.

"You can't have that there," I told one of the crew.  "It's gonna date the film.  People are gonna watch this movie in five years and go, 'Oh man!  Remember when that little twerp was popular?'  Maybe I should just light it on fire.  Does anyone have a match?  D'you think it would look weird if there was a flaming bookshelf in the shot?"   

People around me started cracking up.  I think the crew thought I was onto something because they rolled the display farther back out of the shot to clear a path for the camera man and all the trailing wires.  Later on a pair of girls who were w-a-a-a-a-a-y too old to still be suffering under the residual effects of Beiber fever, were asked to stand walk over to the same display and flip through the book.  Frankly, if they'd asked me to do that, I would have thrown a diva fit and walked off the set.   

The first time we did the scene the camera operator moved in a bit too close to the book signing.  The second time he was a bit too far away from the action.  Mick Garris then instructed him to "split the difference" and on the third take, he nailed it.

Between takes I overheard a girl chatting loudly about board games, trying to convince her friend that she was missing out.

"Yeah, I really like this one too.  Settlers of Catan."

My ears instantly perked up as soon as I heard someone mention a reasonably good board game.  We then had a quick chat about how Settlers is so much better then crap like Monopoly or Trivial Pursuit.   

"Is it a hard game to learn?" asked the curious noob.


"Nooo!" we both scoffed simultaneously.

"It's just a bit different from any game you've ever played bore, so it just takes a little bit to pick it up," I said.

"How many people can play it?"

"Four, but you can get an expansion that allows you to play with six," the other girl said, continuing her concerted sales pitch. 

Just as I went back to my spot in the lineup, I spied Carcassonne out of the corner of my eye on the opposite side of the table.

"Hey!" I called back to the board game vet.  "This one's great too.  Have you played it?"

"No!" she replied, excitedly.  "But I heard that it's really good!  I've actually been there, y'know, to the real city.  To Carcassonne!"   

"What?  Really!" I called back, instantly jealous.  "It must have been amazing!"

Her face fell a bit as she described the once-proud, ancient medieval city.

"It's amazing from the outside, but inside it's gotten really commercial.  Very cheesy and touristy."

Unbelievable. You'd think the French, the ones who despised Euro-Disney so vehemently, would have been immune to such a blight.  Sad.

After the shot was completed we were herded back to holding.  Fortunately the sound department had a little monitoring station close by.  They proceeded to shoot a series of close-ups to capture the interaction with the "Superfan".  It was a real thrill to watch these performances captured "live" for digital posterity.  It's positively magical to me.

I could now see what the "Superfan" looked like: a husky, pallid, conservatively-dressed, blank-faced dude with a side-sweep haircut.  I could also detect Pierce Brosnan's blatant wince of pain as the stack of books got plunked down in front of him as well as his look of stark amazement as the fan made his series of nutty requests.  I'm was also delighted to watch Annabeth look on with bemused surprise as the avalanche of books came slamming down onto the table.

Between a break in the action everyone went into a brief holding pattern.  Annabeth found a book that she seemed interested in buying: Canadian author Micheal Ondaatje's latest novel The Cat's Table.  I humored a silent 'Yay!' at this irrefutable sign of good taste!  I marveled at the concept that my very own book was sitting somewhere on the shelf in the very same store, sharing shelf space with such stellar company. If Stephen King, who was once rumored to be involved with a cameo in the film, had walked in, I would have marched him right over to where my book was sitting just so I could tell him: "Look!  I  have you to thank for that!"

Annabeth began expressing some frustration over her phone's failings and Mick asked her if she owned an iPad.  When she told him 'no', the director suddenly launched into an amazing testimonial for Apple's waver-thin technological marvel.  He spun a pretty convincing sales pitch, particularly when he mentioned that he could actually watch the film's dailies using the little wonder tablet.  Incredible.

Time was beginning to tick by.  More and more slack-jawed gawkers (designated as  "bogeys" by the crew) were trying to weasel their way onto the set.  In addition, the staff of the store and some of the real-life customers were becoming star-struck, even attempting to take a photograph of Pierce at one point in time.  Adam the A.D. had to step in at one point and put the kibosh on that.

I also had a brief chat with Andrew, the manager at the store who agreed to stock my book on the shelves.  His initial surprise upon seeing me besuited and part of the background quickly passed as I came near and said:

"Not your typical day on the job, huh?"

Indeed.  At one point in time a woman with a wailing baby flipped out after being denied access to the kid's section of the store.  During all the drama all I could think was: 'Cripes, Honey, circumstances are a just a little bit unusual right now.  Maybe you could kindly take your larval air raid siren out of the store for a bit and come back when it's out of gas.  The store ain't goin' anywhere.'

Back to first positions we went.  The first few fans in the lineup were now gone, so we moved up closer to the front.  We could now see what was going on at the table, which was great.  Initially we lensed a few more wide shots, but this time we didn't have to mime our conversations, we could actually talk to people around us.  Me, Ashley, Shannon, and the dude standing behind us had a great time coming up with crazy shit to say to one another like:

"*Whoof!*  We're almost there!  How long have we been waiting in this lineup, anyway?  Three, four weeks?"
"Man, if I don't get Pierce Brosnan's autograph today, I'm gonna hunt you down and murder you in your sleep!"
"Have any of you guys actually read They All Fall Down yet?   It actually kinda sucks."
"What are the odds that the ten people standing in front of us in the lineup will suddenly get hit by lightning?  Wouldn't that be great?"      

We paused again as catering arrived with several platters of awesome-looking food.  Once again, I'm amazed by the pampering you receive on a proper movie set.  There I was, getting privileged access to a world I once thought impenetrable.  A world that I would have gladly paid money out of my own pocket to be a part of.

But not only was I supposed to be here, I was getting paid to be there and they were feeding me on top of it all!  Indeed, there was an endless parade of coffee, tea, water, apples, bananas, clementines, chocolate bars, donuts, juice and a huge variety of sammichy goodness all free for the taking!  I consider this treatment to be so rarefied and privileged that I still bring my own lunch to set!      

After our little group nosh I noticed that all of the equipment was being turned around for a reverse angle shot, presumably to accommodate the scene where we all of us hear the commotion outside and Mike gets up and runs towards the doors, fearing the worst.  It took quite awhile for the crew to accomplish this, taking great pains all the while to ensure that no open windows would betray the very un-Manhattan like skyline.

During this time, the cast and crew was incredibly approachable.  Mick Garris hung out at the table where I was standing so I had a chance to talk to him about the actors who shared the graveyard scene with me.  He took the opportunity to praise his supporting cast and told me that a wonderful Toronto-based actress by the name of Deborah Graham played Rogette to perfection.  It was a cool little moment and I have to thank him for being so accessible.

I shared another encounter with one of the crew members only moments later.  While I was waiting for the next summons back to our places, I found myself standing by a table laden with books about World War II.  One book in particular, about tanks from that era, really caught my eye.  As I lifted the front cover I heard this:

"Zat vas my grand-fazza's tank."

I look up to see a trim gent, 40-ish, with long graying hair and a goatee who was wearing a brown hat, red checked shirt and some sort of black equipment harness.  He gestured to the illustration of the mean-looking armored vehicle on the front of the book.

"Oh, wow, really?" I said.  "What kind of tank is it?  Panzer IV or...?"

"No," he replied (or perhaps it was "Nein!").  He flipped to the page which identified the tank.  "It's a Tiger."

The coach driver I'd befriended earlier jumped into the conversation, rattling off Rain Man-like details about the tank's specifications.

"Panther...Leopard...," the German prop master muttered to himself as he identified each vehicle in turn.

"Amazing machines," I blurted, clearly allergic to the threat of even so much as a second's worth of awkward silence.  "Along with the Russian T-34 those were some of the best tanks of the war."

"Ja, very much so" he replied, seconds before being called back to work.

That wasn't my only encounter with the same dude.  Later on, when I  was totally engrossed in talking to the coach driver, he came up to me again and asked:

"Do you vant your book signed?"

I turned and frowned at him.  I couldn't fathom why he would asking me that.

"Sorry?" I asked, sounding painfully obtuse.

"Your book!"  he practically shouted.  "Do you vant it signed?"

I hefted up the massive tome and blinked at it remotely.

"Um...sure?"

I handed the thing off to him, wondering if it would earn me some kind of bonus scene in which I'm lording the signed copy over my fellow Noonan fans still stuck in the line-up.  Regardless, the thought occupied my mind for no more then a millisecond as I went back to the conversation.

Soon he reappeared and handed the book back to me.  So engrossed was I in my wanton gabbery that I just accepted it, thanked him and then went on to summarize my discussions forth and final stupid point.  Soon we were called back to set and the A.D. quickly coached us as to what our reactions should be to the chaos erupting outside.

While in the lineup with Shannon and Ashley, the topic turned again to our prop books.  I opened mine up to show them all the little details that the art department had added to the dust jacket.  As soon as she spied the hand-written scrawl on the inside front cover, Ashley shrieked:

"WHAT is THAT!?!" 

I stared at the large, flamboyant script inside the book.

"Um, I...I dunno," I replied helpfully.  "Looks like some kind of signature."

Everyone within earshot crowded around to try and decipher it. It read (as far as we could determine):

Thanks!

Your Best Friend,

Mpiekrce Nbrsnan

Ashly promptly went into an apoplexy of shock and excitement.

"Oh my God!  Oh my God!  Oh my God!  Oh my God!  Oh my God!  Oh my God!  Oh my God!  Oh my God!"

"What?  What is it?!" I asked.

"He signed it!  Pierce Brosnan signed your book!  Why did he...how did you do that!?!?"

"Hold on now, just  wait a minute!" I protested.  "We don't know if that's his signature.  I can barely read it, fer Crissakes!"

"I'm pretty sure it says 'Pierce'," Shannon jumped in, gleefully pouring kerosene on the fire.

"How...how did you get his autograph?!" Ashley demanded, practically grabbing me by the lapels, which, in retrospect, would have been really bad 'cuz I wasn't wearing any lapels.

"I...I didn't," I sputtered back, now totally flummoxed.  "I was just standing over there and that intense-looking German dude just asked me if I wanted to have my book signed so I just gave it to him!"

My fellow extra moved in closer.  I backed away, fearing that I had only seconds to live before I was beaten to death with a woefully un-customized stunt-book.

"I came here with one goal and one goal only: get Pierce Brosnan's autograph.  You're gonna give me that book when your done."

"What?!" I shouted, holding the hardcover to my chest.  "No way!  They're just gonna make me give it back anyway!"

"Why?" she persisted.  "Why would that guy go through the bother of getting the damned thing signed if you weren't supposed to keep it?"

I had to admit that it really didn't make much sense.  After all, we were still standing mid-way in the lineup and the next scene would most certainly be Pierce running towards the door, leaving the rest of us forever waiting for his "autograph".

Just as Ashley leaned closer to deliver what was sure to be a fatal application of the Tongan Death Grip, the A.D. called for "Quiet on the Set!", followed with the familiar succession of "Picture's Up!", "Roll Sound!", "Roll Picture!", "Speed!", "Mark It!" , "Background!" and then "Action!"  Once again we flawlessly mimed talking cheerfully to one another before reacting to the sounds of impact and the sirens just outside.  Regardless of the risk to my own life, I have to admit that Ashley probably deserves a nomination for Best Performance By An Extra Who Only Seconds Ago Was On The Verge Of  Murdering A Fellow Extra.      
I managed to calm her down between takes and the last few shots flew by in quick succession.  Our reaction to the ruckus outside was filmed again a few more times. Then the steady-cam operator reversed his original angle by running backwards down the aisle, first capturing our quizzical reactions to the imaginary noise and then halting as a horror-stricken Pierce got up and ran towards the front of the store.  Several variations of this scene were shot, including a request by director Mick Garris to have us break out of the line up and run after Pierce as he flew past us. 

Soon "That's a Wrap!" was called and we begrudgingly turned in our cool props.  I lingered for as long as I could hoping the German dude would just look and me and say "Zat ist okay.  You can keep zat book if you vant!"

Instead he was supervising the return process.  Before I gave the book back to him, I said:

"Ummm, excuse me, I just had to ask: why did you get this book signed?"

He cocked his head and looked at me as if I was derranged.

"Vat do you mean?" he demanded.

"Well," I shuffled, suddenly rubbing my neck and feeling churlish. "A few hours ago you came up to me and asked if I wanted my book signed.  A said 'yes' and you took it, got it signed and gave it back to me.  I was just wondering why you did that."

He kept staring me as he took back a prop cell phone.  As I kept talking he was staring at me like a dog listing to something weird on the radio.

"I don't know vat you're talking about," he maintained.  "A lot of them ver signed."

With that, I gave up, handed the book back in defeat and slunk back to holding.  At least I could tell Ashley now that I tried to keep the book for her.  I was hoping that this would make her charitable enough to spare my life.
 
They called our names at random and I was one of the lucky folks to sign out almost immediately.  Just before I left, the wardrobe people snagged me for a continuity photo and threatened to gibbet me if I didn't wear the exact same thing tomorrow morning.  After deciding that a trip to Montana's for ribs while wearing the same duds was probably a bad idea, I gathered up all my crap and humped out to the bus stop.

I had one final odd encounter as I was waiting for the bus.  I was speaking to an ACTRA member who seemed quite bitter that this past summer was supposed to have been very busy, even though he hardly got any calls.  He seemed especially resentful that he wasn't being asked back to do continuity tomorrow and intimated that non-union folks like myself were taking jobs away from ACTRA people.

Now, interestingly enough, during the course of his monologue he revealed that he didn't have an agent nor did I get the impression that he was trolling the casting websites every day to drum up work for himself.  Now, granted, I've only done four films but even I know that I'm really gonna hafta kick it into high gear if I ever decide to really pursue this wacky business (especially if I decide to do voice acting and especially if I'm self-represented at first).   

Rather then feeling as if this encounter was negative or discouraging, I actually thought it rather hopeful.  More and more I was getting the impression that, like any other work environment, film crews really only want to be surrounded by positive, upbeat, accommodating people who will do what's asked of them without a lot of bitching and complaining.

For some reason, I couldn't help but feel as if this meant well for my future.  As I rode back home on the bus, packed in with my fellow lemmings into this massive mobile box, I pondered what adventures would await me on the morrow.

But that is a story for another day.    
 
EPIC  Link to Ballyhoo's website.  Set up a profile and see what happens, folks!

http://www.ballyhoocastingcompany.com/

FAIL  I really  hope this kid can start using his prodigious powers for good instead of evil.  That is, before his target audience starts to get all bitter and angry and start listening to The Cure. 

http://arts.nationalpost.com/2010/10/14/review-justin-biebers-memoir-first-step-2-forever-my-story/