Christmas Came Early This Year! - Part II

Hey, Party Peoples!

Well, with just a quick declaration I was made privy to the results of a make-believe paternity test.  Just like that I'd become "insta-Dad" with the added perk of completely avoiding the teething/diapers/"terrible twos" phase. 

I took no time in introducing myself to my long-lost daughter and we seemed to hit it off right away.  Not long after the set decorator/props dude came by and tagged her with a fake patient wristband with the generic name "M. Jones" printed on it.  We speculated at great length as to what the "M" stood for but eventually settled on the whitebread but non-threatening moniker of "Mary".  Or "Matilda".

Well, I'm gonna go with "Mary" 'cuz it's less to type. 

 Mary was well cast in her role as a patient in a kid's hospital ward.  She was bean-pole slim and pale to the point of translucency.  Her fair medium-length hair was tucked up inside a quilted cap, completing the illusion perfectly, despite the fact that occasionally she'd have to pause and jam it back into place.

At one point in time later in the shoot, she'd obviously become tired of cramming her loose hair back under the cap, so she tied it up in a stubby pony tail and squished the hat back on.  It pooked out the back of the cap so dramatically I thought surely someone would notice it and call us on it.  I figured if anyone challenged us we could probably convince them that it was actually the reason she was there in the first place.

"Yeah, it's not a pony tail under there.  Makeup gave her a fake tumor.  Or a goiter.  They didn't say which.  It could be both.  A 'tuter' maybe?  Or a 'goimer'?"

People who say "you shouldn't work in movies with kids or animals" are dickheads.  They're obviously just people that can't talk to or relate to kids at all.  Now I'm not saying there can't be some difficult child actors but I could see it in practice all around the set: some paired-up fictional kids and parents were barely talking to one another between takes.

I just couldn't do that.  Partnered up with my diminutive co-star I thought it as my responsibility to try and develop a rapport and keep her amused.  I bent my completely puerile sense of "humor" to the task and endeavored to keep her in stitches.

Hah, hah!  "Stitches"!  Geddit!?!  A little medical ward humor for ya there, folks.  I tell ya, every one's a Maserati! 

I've been told that my own brand of funny is especially appealing to kids.  It's probably because it's 33% "pop cultury", 33% arrested mental development gross-outs, and 33% physical comedy (with the last 1% composed of "What the f#@$ are you talking about?").  Still there were times when I'm sure Mary was thinking:

"Eeeeeesh.  What a dork!"

That's right folks, my sense of humor is not sophisticated enough for a ten year old.  

Actually that's not true.  Mary was more than game for an exchange of the goofy.  Her appearance certainly belied her boundless energy.  She was bright, whip-smart and I could barely keep up with her half the time.

She was also quite the little chiseler.  When she saw another kid relegated to a wheelchair she was instantly in "self-agent mode" and lobbying for a prop of some sort.  The wheelchair idea was immediately nixed but at two different times she had the prop guy attach her to an IV drip and when that didn't work out she was given a heart-shaped balloon to tote around.

She had the dude jumping though hoops like a diminutive diva.  It was awesome.  At some point I thought she was going to make a crazy J-Lo type rider request for an apricot floating in petrol in a man's fedora hat just to see if they'd do it for her.

Just prior to our first scene a sound guy (who bore an uncanny resemblance to actor Ned Wertimer http://www.phigam.org/NetCommunity/Page.aspx?pid=603) came by to get us all to do a walking test.  Anyone deemed too "scuffy" or "clonky" instantly got the bottom of their shoes re-soled with padding so as not to be so noisy over the on-set audio captures.  After taking a quick foot pad around the hall I was given the all-clear and asked to sit down again.

Mercifully our first scene was pretty simple.  We were asked to keep our places in the same squishy padded bench at the end of a long hallway.  The other background extras walked (or wheeled) by as the principal actors played out at scene at the opposite end of the corridor.

I was given the direction to mime a consoling conversation, pat Mary's back in a comforting gesture and turn together to look out the big picture window.  The view of Halifax harbor was spectacular and there was no shortage of interesting things to play off of. 

We ran the scene several times and nailed it after a few tries.  Between takes I continued to get acquainted with my young co-star and soon found myself envious of her experience.  When she told me that she'd already shared screen time in a Cisco Teleconferencing commercial with Ellen Page I was suitably impressed.

It got me thinking about how awesome it would have been to grow up in a place like Halifax where opportunities existed like this for a ten-year-old kid.  To appear in a movie or a commercial at such a young age would be so amazing.  Some parents kinda "volun-tell" kids to do stuff like this but I would definitely  have been one of those kids who would have wanted to get involved with it.

And with that, our "winter scene" was done.  We were dispatched down to the holding area to switch into our second winter outfit, which was a tremendous relief for me.  I felt fortunate that I was sitting down in the last scene and my crappy, baggy sweater couldn't be seen hanging off of me like Mary Kate and/or Ashley Olsen.
Now in blue dress shirt, dark gray pants, blazer and dress shoes I felt infinitely more comfortable.  The A.D. must have liked the look of Mary and I (or recognized me from the "Hobo" shoot) but he came to us again with another cool assignment.

He took us back upstairs where we were asked to do a corridor walk-by featuring all three of the film's principal actors. 

They included Sarah Paulson, who you may recognize from the pre-nuts Mel Gibson's vehicle What Women Want as Nick's secretary Annie:

Or as Vikki in the Renée Zellweger/Ewan McGregor retro romantic comedy Down With Love:

Or my own personal fave, as Reaver victim Dr. Caron in the Joss Whedon Firefly flick Serenity:

Um, we won't mention The Spirit, but she's also been seen in some other tremendous television roles such as Law & Order, Deadwood, Nip/Tuck, Desperate Housewives and the quirky American Gothic. 

As for John Corbett, how you recognize him seems to be entirely based on age and gender.  Women in their thirties seem to remember him mostly as Aiden Shaw from Sex in the City:

Or as Ian Miller in My Big Fat Greek Wedding: 

    
But not me, dude.  For me he'll always be the shadowy existential Cicelian D.J.Chris Stevens from Northern Exposure:

Chris was f#@$%^& hardcore.  In his wild days he did more drugs than Keith Richards and stole more cars than Nic Cage but now he lives a simple, repentant life in his Airstream and reads Walt Whitman.  He's badass, yo. Recognize an' respec'. 

You'd also get bonus crusty points if you remember him as Karon Arnold's hippy boyfriend in T.V.'s The Wonder Years:

Hah-hah!  Betcha forgot about that one, huh?  You can thank me for the jarring flashback later, folks!

I just got a chuckle when Mary looked up to me and said: "My mom knows all three of those people!"  I just thought it was awesome that this young soul had no friggin' clue who they were and I was standing there barely able to contain myself knowing I was about to shoot a scene with them!  

Well, there we both were, at the end of a long corridor being asked to walk through a scene with these three industry veterans.  Sam Elliott's director's chair was now just a few feet away from us and I could actually smell it.  It smelled like the Marlboro Man was somewhere on set, like a combination of Old Spice, bullet residue, saddle leather and cigarette smoke.  Somehow I wasn't surprised.

The A.D. came by and gave us our direction.  We were asked to hug the left hand side of the corridor, drift slowly through the shot mid-way down the hall, move around John Corbett and head up the steps just behind him.

The scene itself looked pretty pivotal.  A clearly distressed Sarah and John are talking about the dire condition of their child while Sam Elliott's character is doing his best to comfort them.  The dialogue was something like this:

Sarah: (sounding anguished) "She's really bad."
John: "The drugs are really beating her up. They're thinking of sending us home."
Sam: *Mumble, mumble*  "Something badass."  *Mumble, mumble* "Something awesome".  *Mumble, mumble.* "Something inspirational."

Sarah looked as if she'd worked herself into a terrible and bleak mental state.  It looked as if she'd been crying for days and hadn't slept in a weeks.  Part of me wondered if this was achieved through sheer force of will or by method acting.  I wonder if she'd told the crew:

"Yeah, look guys, I need to ask you for a favor.  Overnight I want you to just randomly scream obscenities outside my trailer door and throw rocks at it.  Can you do that for me?"

"Um, okay, Ms. Paulson.  How often do you want us to do this?"

"Oh, I dunno.  What do you think?  Say, thirty to forty times?"    

With some of the actors clearly "in the zone" I didn't want to cock it up and get thrown off the set.  Mary was goofing around with the balloon somewhat and I was terrified that she'd loose a grip on it and it would sail up into the atrium.  

I joked with her saying: "Hey, kiddo.  Don't lose that balloon, alright?  It cost me thirty bucks!"

She laughed and responded by tying the string around every one of her little digits so it wouldn't float away.

We ran the scene several times, tweaking variations as we went.  I thought it would be suitably parental to take Mary's hand as we went up the steps but I didn't want to overstep by boundaries.  Color me suprised when on the third take the A.D. asked me to do just that as if he'd read my mind.


Next the balloon was nixed because the director declared it to be "too distracting".  The shrewd negotiator that she was, Mary had it replaced within minutes with a Webkinz stuffed horse whom she instantly dubbed "Ney Ney".  How sickeningly cute is that?


Problem was, as we were ordered to go back to first positions and sound began to roll the A.D. couldn't get the balloon off Mary's hand since the goofball had tied it to every one of her fingers!  I chuckled a bit to myself as the props guy and the A.D. asked for a quick time reprieve to resolve a "balloon-related situation" as the cameramen gathered around chomped at the bit.  
 
Each time we did our part, hit our marks and  scooted up the steps.  Sometimes it was a bit of a challenge to keep Mary quiet after we'd finished our pass and the cameras kept cranking on the dialogue below.  She wanted to keep talking and goofing around so I mimed some silly facial expressions to keep her entertained and then blabbered at her as soon as "CUT!" was yelled.

Can't say I blame the kid since all I wanted to do the whole time was scream out:

"OMG!  I JUST WALKED PAST DR. CARON, CHRIS STEVENS AND VIRGIL FRIGGIN'  EARP!!!"    

Ahem.  Sorry 'bout that.  

Tomorrow in the concluding segment, the shocks keep coming and I'm amazed by how even a movie set can take on the bitchy qualities of an office environment.  One tear...  

EPIC:




FAIL: http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/5595062/celebrity_encounter_the_night_i_met.html?cat=2

Christmas Came Early This Year! - Part I

Hello, Returning Readers!

Well, after my adventures on the "Hobo With A Shotgun" set (documented right here http://emblogificationcapturedevice.blogspot.com/2010/05/asparagus-midnight-part-i.html - your Ever Lovin' Host) I was pretty keen to keep this train a-rollin'.  Thanks to the "Hobo" experience I discovered the "Faces for Film" website and set up a profile for myself not long after.

Well, I'd assumed that with the profile set up they would just email or call me if they thought me suitable for any specific assignment.  But when I got busy and time began to ream by I came to the realization a few weeks ago that I hadn't heard from anyone.  This in spite of the high frequency of cryptic-looking yellow signs posted around the city: sure evidence that active movie sets were somewhere close by.

So, I popped into my profile, added a photo, some extra specs and then looked through the current bulletins.  It was there that I spied the following request:

"I am currently casting for a Hospital scene that will be filmed in Halifax on Thursday, August 5th.

-the shoot day is Thursday, August 5th
-the people I book must also be available for Friday, July 30 in case of bad weather
-if you are booked, I will contact you with weather cover details if necessary on Thursday, July 29th

Here is what I am looking for:

- clean cut visitors, aged 25-60, any ethnicity
- thin/sickly looking kids, aged 5-12, any ethnicity

If you are interested and available for both days please comment below.  I will call you if I can book you!"

I threw my hat into the ring and a few hours later found myself in the following phone call:

Me: "Hello?"
Awesome Filmworks Rep: "Hi, David?"
Me: "Yes, speaking."
Awesome Filmworks Rep: "David , its _____ ________ from 'Filmworks Casting'.  How are you?"
Me: "Fantastic!  Yourself?"
Awesome Filmworks Rep: "Good. (not sounding entirely convinced) So, I'd like to book you in for this Hospital shoot as a background performer.  Are you still interested?"
Me: "Yes, yes I am!"
Awesome Filmworks Rep: "Okay, great.  Right now I'm trying to get confirmation as to whether or not it'll be August the 5'th for sure.  We're trying to figure out what the weather is going to be like tomorrow."

I suddenly found myself in a "Matrix"-like bubble of time suspension as I tried to puzzle out out how the hell they could possibly know what the weather was going to be like a week from now.  Slowly my bullet time moment of stupidity lifted and I realized that they were likely looking for bad weather to justify altering the shooting schedule.  The spinning cogs and pinwheels in my brain almost distracted me from her next question.

Awesome Filmworks Rep: "So, would you still be available if we have to move the shooting date to tomorrow?"

(I rummage around in a few random pieces of paper sitting by the phone)

Dumbass...er, Me: "Uh, let me see here.  Yep, I'm free!"
Awesome Filmworks Rep: "Fantastic!  I'm almost 99.9% sure it'll be the 5'th but in the event it gets bumped up to tomorrow you'll be getting a frantic phone call from me around 9 or 10 o'clock tonight.  Let's just pray it doesn't come to that."     
Me: "Well, regardless of when it is I'll be there!"
Awesome Filmworks Rep: "Thanks so much, David.  I'll be in touch.  Have a great day!"

Well, to quote the Mike Myers-spawned German television host Dieter I was "as happy as a little girl."
(best spoken while pinching the fabric of your shirt at the nipples and pulling it away from your body)

I was getting back on another major film set and this time I was going to get paid.  Or at least, I thought I was. 

Not that it mattered at all.  I would have paid them just for the privilege of being able to stand there and watch the process. 

Well, I didn't get a desperate phone call that night so I assumed that the original date would hold true.  Sure enough I received the following email on the 4'th:

"I have you booked to do background work tomorrow (Thursday, August 5th) on 'November Christmas'.  All of the information below is very important.  Please read it carefully- I know it's ridiculously long, but it is important.

I am also attaching a list of Basic on set information, rules, and etiquette. If this is your first time on set, please read it over. (ACTRA members: please ignore)
 
Your Calltime for Tomorrow is: To Be Determined.
I am anticipating a morning calltime (they began filming at 8 AM today).  I will email you your calltime tonight around 9PM. 
Please be sure to check all messages and respond promptly to confirm.
 
Please Report to: *EDITED*
I will let you know the exact room number when I email you tonight.

Your Character Is: Visitor at a Children's Hospital

The Scene: These scenes are interior and take place during several days and three different times of year.   These scenes take place in: August 1995, September 1995, October 1995 and November 1995.

Wardrobe:  Please come prepared with 3 complete (head to toe) wardrobe changes:
VISITOR:
August Look:  Please bring an upscale casual option for late Summer.  Think about what you would wear if you were actually going to visit somebody in the Hospital and wear that (you would be a little bit more cleaned up than usual, but not "fancy").  Late summer option should include:
Women: skirt & blouse, dress, or lightweight business pants and blouse; summer footwear; light cardigan or jacket
Men: dress shirt; lightweight business pants, light jacket; ties; summer footwear

Late Fall Look: Please bring TWO complete upscale casual options for late fall/early winter.  Keep the idea of trying to look nice for visiting the Hospital, but keep in mind that it is supposed to be cool outside. Late fall options should include:
Women: long sleeves: skirts and blouses, dresses, or warmer business pants and blouse;  late fall footwear; sweaters;  fall jackets
Men: long sleeves: dress shirts, pants, sweaters, fall jackets, fall footwear

COLORS/THINGS TO AVOID: white, blue, red, bright colors, busy patterns, plaid, logos, sparkles
COLORS WE LIKE:  Neutral/earth tones: grey, beige, charcoal, browns, dark green, navy

Please make sure that all clothing is clean, no ripped or stained clothing please.
   ** Labeling all clothing is a good idea- there will be many extras on set tomorrow**

Hair/Make-Up: Everybody please arrive with clean, dry hair.
Men: Please arrive clean shaven or with groomed facial hair
Women: Please arrive hair and make-up ready, if possible.  Please arrive with a base coat of make-up on: whatever you would wear on an everyday basis.  Please do not wear any sparkles or glittery make-up.
Please be sure to bring a hair brush or comb, and hair elastics, clips, etc for the day changes.

Things to Bring: water, snack and drinks (Lunch will be provided if you are there at lunch time, but in case you are hungry before that);  your Social Insurance Number- you MUST have this for prompt payment;  cards, games, anything that will keep you entertained and happy without being disruptive. 
(ACTRA members will be fed as per the IPA)
PLEASE NOTE: Cameras are not acceptable to bring to set.  Please do not bother the cast and crew with requests for photos or autographs- they are there to do a job and you are too.
 
If you MUST cancel, please call me at ***-****. ( That number is for emergencies and cancellations ONLY.  I would be happy to answer any questions or concerns over email or on the office line: ***-****.)

Thank you, I will be in touch tonight!"

Now with my role confirmed I began my own descent into panic.  Did I have the appropriate clothes to accommodate this?  For "Hobo" I was just asked to dress as crappy as possible (which I'm more than capable of doing at any time).  But I needed three distinctly different semi-formal outfits here!

I pulled everything vaguely business casual out of the closet, washed it all in an attack of acute paranoia and ironed it all.  I can safely say that I did more ironing on that one day than I've ever done collectively in my entire natural life.

I cobbled together three passable outfits and prayed to the costuming Gods that I'd hit the mark.  I was hoping to get my call time quickly so I could make arrangements to drop my persistently patient wife off at work early while I schlepped two massive garment bags across town in time in the car.  But the email didn't come in until around 11 pm!

I nervously opened it up and read the following:

"Hello,

Your calltime for tomorrow is: 09:15 AM

You should report to:  *EDITED*
(there will be yellow signs to follow that say BaseCamp)

Please refer to my earlier email for all other details.

PLEASE REPLY TO THIS EMAIL ASAP TO CONFIRM.
(If you MUST cancel, please call ***-**** immediately. That number is for emergencies and cancellations only. I would be happy to answer any questions over email.)

Thank you, Have a great day tomorrow!" 

This was a sweet relief.  If it had been 8 am like the previous day of shooting I certainly wouldn't have been able to take the car with me.  Part of me wonders how long I'll be able to pursue these opportunities with a single vehicle, especially if the shoots are outside of Halifax.

I got up at 6:30 with the best intentions of getting all my ducks in a row.  Paralyzed by indecision I was completely unable to pare down any of the clothes I'd set aside for the day.  I hedged my bet and  threw all of it into two separate garment bags (one for pants, one for shirts).

After dropping my uber-tolerant better half off at work a full hour early (Love ya, Pookie!) I blasted over to Dartmouth to locate the set.  I did so in record time, located the closest Tim Whorenuts and ordered a bagel with thirty minutes to spare.

Despite the fact that my bagel was pilfered by some chickenhead, I still managed to hork it down and get over to the set fifteen minutes before my call time.  I eked out a parking space, slung about seventy pounds worth of fabric over my back and staggered into the main entrance, flirting with the very real possibility of the first ever medically documented garment bag induced hernia.

After entering the main building my gut was instantly in a knot.  There was absolutely no orientation signage at all.   Crap!  Was I in the right place? Was I going to be late?

I backtracked out to the trailer lot and bushwhacked a member of the crew who did indeed confirm that I was in the right place.  There were still no signs upon my return but I did spy a few intriguing characters milling around the food court area.  I hovered around there for a bit, buzzing around the cryptic-looking piles of paperwork like a fly around...er, no...more like, like a bee around honey.  Yeah, that's the ticket!

No one was manning the table and I didn't want to fill out the wrong forms so I wandered back to the entrance where someone was finally posting up a "HOLDING AREA" sign pointing downstairs.  Down below I spied a slew of extras loitering about, dressed as commanded.

I made my way downstairs, heaved the two bags off my back like nylon hit victims and settled in for a long wait.  Just as I got comfortable I overheard someone asking an acquaintance if they'd registered upstairs yet.  Tipped off, I traipsed back up to the form-laden table in the cafeteria.

Finally someone was assisting the extras with their paperwork.  I filled out two documents, one for a pay claim ("WOO!  HOO!") and one was a declaration of residence.  Once I'd filled out name, rank, serial number, birth date, blood type and my estimate as to the air speed velocity of an egg-laden swallow (I asked the qualifying African or European rebuttal just to be conservative) I sauntered back down to the holding area just in time for wardrobe's inspection.

A nice wardrobe girl helped me pick out three outfits starting with the winter attire.  This consisted of a pair of dark green khakis, my "Merrill" sneakies, and a dark gray sweater.

This was initially fine by me but I'd purchased the sweater in my usually size "large" at "Old Navy" without trying it on first.  To make matters worse I'd washed it the day before and attempted to dry it in an over loaded dryer.

It came out sopping wet.  Instead of doing the intelligent thing and drying it again with the hopes of shrinking it a bit I'd left it to air dry overnight.  Too bad I decided on this course of action on the most humid night of the summer.

Well, I'd gotten up the next day and the friggin' horse blanket was still wet.  I didn't have time to dry it anymore so I'd just chucked it in the garment bag and ran out the door.  When I pulled it out later on set it looked slacker than Martin Landau's testicles.  It looked even worse when I put it on, like something I'd  borrowed from my boyfriend Moose's closet.

Undaunted I changed and waited nervously for the main wardrobe lady to come by and give me final approval.  While I waited I was directed over to the nearby makeup chair where I was pawed over by a dotty hairstylist.

After she told me a story about trying to plug a hairdryer into a glass reflection from the other room (?) I should have considered that my cue to just out of the chair, run away from her and hide.  I'd washed my hair when I first got up that morning and it was admittedly kinda poofy but her solution to this was spritzing me down with a water bottle and coming my hair forward for an awesome "crows wing" sort of effect.  Feeling abused, I stumbled away from the chair and vowed to effect repairs as soon as I could.

No such luck.  I was tackled by the costume overseer and she quickly appraised me with a practiced eye.  She nixed the white t-shirt I was wearing under the sweater and asked me to put on a brown collared shirt underneath instead.

After she walked away I though: "Really?  A dark brown collared shirt under this cable-knit gray sweater?  Really?!?"

But sure enough after I'd changed in the bathroom and looked at myself I thought: "Damn.  She was right.  It does look better!"

What I know about fashion and co-ordination you could fit in a Cadbury Easter Creme Egg.

Back in the holding area I killed time talking to a couple of cool dudes who were also just getting started doing extra work.  One guy I recognized as a cop from the "Hobo" set and apparently he'd snagged a recurring police role in a new local television show that was being shot in the area.  They also gave me some interesting insights into getting an agent, ACTRA and tips to secure future gigs.

Not long after the AD (the self-same dude who'd done such a tremendous job on the "Hobo" shoot) came by and swept up about ten to twelve of us to bring on set.  After a brief elevator ride we were positioned at the end of a long hallway and asked to wait while we got our assignments.  I took a seat on a cushy chair and a pale, thin ten year old girl dressed in a pink robe, slippers and a chemotherapy cap plunked down next to me.  We smiled knowingly at one another, reading each others minds as we collectively thought: "This is soooooo cool!  What's gonna happen next?"

During this time we were asked to keep quiet since some of the actors were nearby running lines.  A giddy thrill went through me as the directors chair bearing the name "Sam Elliot" was empty one moment and occupied the next.

Wow.  That's friggin' Sam Elliott right there, sitting not six or seven paces away from us.  

He was General Ross in Ang Lee's Hulk:

"The Stranger" in The Big Lebowski:

 .

Wade Garrett in Roadhouse:

Not to mention Virgil Friggin' Earp in Tombstone.

I was geeking out hardcore but managed to retain my composure.  Just  in time the A.D. came by and started giving out assignments.  He directed one dude to sit alone at a table and wistfully stare outside.  Her asked another couple to walk casually down the hall.  He put a kid in a wheelchair and instructed an extra dressed as a nurse to push him down the hall.

Then he looked at me and said:

"You.  You're her Dad."

He pointed at the winsome, precocious little girl sitting next to me.  Just like that, in a matter of a few seconds, my life was forever changed.

I was finally a Daddy!

Check back next week when I reveal the meaning behind the following cryptic observations:

• Does the old adage "don't act with kids and animals" really hold true?
• The importance of being ninja.
• Sarah Paulson: Method Actress?
• John Corbett's Arch Nemesis: Background Noise.
• Sam Elliott is mother-f#@$%^& pimp, yo.
• Balloons and horses and wheelchairs: Oh My!  
• I get schooled by a ten year old professional actress. 

Take care, Peoples!

EPIC: http://www.thecoast.ca/HaliwoodInsider/archives/2010/07/20/november-christmas-brings-celebrity-christmas

FAIL:



   
       

Asparagus @ Midnight - Part IV

As the main phalanx of civilians were dispatched back towards the "shoutin' wall" a clutch of about nine to twelve of us were kept behind the perimeter of lights strategically arrayed about the set.  Initially we had no clue if this was going to be a good thing or not since huge swaths of wall dwellers were also being diverted to the weapons cart and walking away with prop rifles, shotguns and pistols!

"Damn, I wanted a gun," I sulked out loud, drawing chuckles and mutters of agreement all around.

As if he'd heard me, the weapons expert appeared again from out of nowhere.  Keep in mind the dude is still dressed up like this as he approached us:

He stepped forward, produced a genuine-looking stock .45 automatic and handed it to a dude standing to the left of me who resembled a considerably less-scrawny version of Rivers Cuomo.  Before he could celebrate his good fortune, the weapons specialist dragged him and two other similarly armed extras aside, lined them up in a row and took a quick digital photo of them with the guns held aloft.

"Alright!  At the end of this if any of these weapons go missing, this is the photo that goes directly to the police!"

Aptly warned, our newly promoted peer examined the fake handgun in more detail, taking extra steps to avoid any action vaguely resembling "horseplay".  What the hell is horseplay anyway?  Would he have caught s#!* only if he started galloping around the set, whinnying and threatening the girls in the craft services truck for oats and a salt lick?

The gun was a solid piece of plastic with no moving parts, but the finish, grip and weight all looked kosher.  I can certainly see why one of these things going missing would cause so much consternation since there'd be no way whatsoever for bank staff to tell the difference between this movie prop and a real gun.

After a segment of our population was ensconced back on their perches a thrill ran through the crowd as we heard the A.D. shout:

"Alright, bring in the cars!"

From out of nowhere, four or five movie-style (read American-looking) police cruisers rolled into position.  The set became awash with shotgun and pistol-packing cops in flack vests and a handful of ersatz S.W.A.T. team members, all armed to the teeth with M16's and MP5 submachine guns.  As a peaceful Canadian with a healthy fear of firearms I hadn't felt that uneasy since I visited the "Bullet Trap" indoor shooting range in Dallas and was given my choice of two possible targets to shoot at: the standard or a portrait of Osama Bin Ladin.

Sadly I didn't make that last part up.

The magic makers on set began to co-ordinate a veritable arena rock show filled with smoke, flashing lights, bullhorns and insane action.  Initially hidden from the cameras around the corner we watched in awe as a bakers dozen of cops poured out of their cars and holding areas and moved into the square with convincing precision.

We couldn't see the action too well but it looked as if the police were intent on dispersing the crowd of human flotsam and jetsam. Us civilians in other words.  Our hypothesis was put to the test when the A.D. reappeared, now dressed as a cop in assault gear.

"Alright, guys!  This is what I need you to do.  We're gonna move in as the cops into the square.  Hold back until you hear Jennifer here give you you're signal.  You're gonna rush in behind us, threaten us with your weapons, look real pissed and some of us will react to this by turning to point our guns at you.  Got it?"

"Where should we stop?"  asked someone with more presence of mind than myself.

He led us deeper onto the set and pointed between the open door of a police cruiser and the side of the "Road Warrior" truck.

"Hold up right there.  I'm gonna be a bit further in, maybe just behind that other cop car right in the middle of the square.  Basically, we're gonna be within point blank range of each other."

I could scarcely believe it!  We were gonna be right in the middle of the s#!&!  As the A.D. brought us back to our marks, he stopped our lucky handgun-toting lottery winner.

"You got the pistol so I need you to be right up front with that.  Point it right at us."

Following behind him were me, Andrew and Lauren.  I couldn't believe our good fortune as "quiet on the set" was called, sound started rolling and we tensed up for our big moment.

Right on cue the cops flung open the doors of their cruisers and jumped out.  More police in riot gear and bullet proof vests appeared, took their assigned places under cover and others racked their shotguns for dramatic effect.   Finally the S.W.A.T. guys moved in to take up prime real estate in the center of the armed standoff.

Background action was called and we all rushed in, hell bent for blood.  The scene was tricky since we had to run over a rain-slicked slippery metal plate, between the open door of the police cruiser and stop on a dime, all the while armed with the sort of crap that made the scissors Mr.Dressup used to warn us about look like wiffle ball bats.  In fact I seem to recall that Lauren got Andrew's shovel to the mush at one point.

Once we hit our marks we glared at the hated police, brandishing our weapons while our default leader pointed his .45 about in a threatening manner.  I spied at least two cameras close by capturing all the action. 

From here I could see a bit more, including all the extras on the walls and a big-ass black limo amidst the action.  There was a V.I.P. inside who could barely be seen but he was clearly ordering the cops to exterminate us.  Was this previously unseen menace the real big bad of the piece?  Only the finished film will tell...

We reset this scene several more times and on one occasion we lost one of our numbers as he tripped and fell.  Medics were there in a flash and we ran through the scene four or five more times before moving to the next set up.

With each new take something new was incorporated.   In a few shots the cops began to mime firing their weapons at us and our lone protector, not having received any direction to the contrary, pretended to fire back.  Anybody armed with melee weapons had no idea if we were supposed to react to the imaginary lead flying in the air and fall down so we stayed firmly in place and weathered the pretend storm of bullets.

Which brings me to a funny point.  I just couldn't believe how quickly this was reducing me to a kid again.  All of a sudden I was amidst a group of supposed adults that were orchestrating what amounted to a pretend game of cops and robbers.  The surreal nature of it struck me all at once.  It was as if the film itself was just an elaborate edifice; an excuse for a bunch of arrested development yahoos to play with the best toy guns and coolest props money could buy.  It was a dream come true.

Andrew didn't make the next cut as about six or seven of us were asked to provide a scene of rushing past the camera.  We did our best to hit our marks and received no indication that anything was amiss.  After about for or five takes of this we were sent back to rejoin the main group just around the corner.

We stood there in our little elite crew discussing just how lucky we'd been to get into the extra shots.  Just as we were lost in conversation I noticed out of my peripheral vision that Rutger Hauer had made his way back onto set and was approaching us with a bemused look on his face.

We, his "honor guard", snapped to attention as he walked by, appraising us with a look of approval.  He drifted back off the set and was soon replaced by Molly Dunsworth, who was now bearing more than a passing resemblance to Sissy Spacek in the last reel of "Carrie".  She approached us with a handful of something and shouted:

"BLOOD?!  YOU GUYS WANT SOME BLOOD!!?"

We turned and Molly was thoughtfully handing out some mini chocolate bars to keep up our energy levels.  I thanked her for the petite Hershey bar and chuckled at the state she was in.  It was around 3 pm in the morning by this time and I'd been up for about twenty hours now.  But wasn't tired, restless or bored.  I felt more wide awake and alive than I'd felt in years. I was in complete nirvana.  Or was that nerdvana?      

We watched from a distance as our brethren on the walls got their chance to shine and throw the cops for a loop.  Anticipating more scenes coming up, we were kept in place and watched the distant takes with reverential silence.

At one point the background performers manning the walls were given subs to snack on.  When the A.D. happened by still dressed as a tactical assault cop, one of our group stopped him and said:

"Hey, man., I don't mean to be a DICK but those guys up there got subs and we didn't get anything."

I almost dropped dead on the spot and thought 'Dude!  What the eff are you doing?  Did you not just eat a porkchop the size of a friggin' hubcap only about three hours ago?  Who do you think you are, Jennifer Lopez?'   He may have been in the right but, c'mon man.  Don't jeopardize our chances here.

The A.D. let us raid a nearby hot dog cart as compensation.  Food was the last thing on my mind in lieu of a hypothetical next scene.  Well, color me disappointed as another production assistance came by a bit later and gave us our official wrap notice.

Although I did think it odd that we were kept on the fringes of the set for another forty five minutes without being used again I walked away in silence as some others around me grumbled about it.  Sick bastards. 

I gathered my crap up, thanked the production assistant and walked down the hill with Lauren and Andrew to our cars, speculating about what we might be able to do to increase our chances of this ever happening again.  Down at the lot we exchanged goodbyes and vowed to meet again if the film was premiered at Jason's "Thrillema" in Dartmouth as he's publicly promised.

I drove home tired, cold but on cloud nine.  Words fail me as I try and describe my frame of mind at that moment.  I was elated.  I'm sure some people will read this and think that standing around in the damp cold for eight hours overnight would be hellish but I'd much rather have done this then sat tied to a chair for eight and a half hours saying the same uninspired scripted crap over and over again.

Now I don't have a pie in the sky attitude to what this all means.  I know that the footage I appeared in might never see the light of day on film.  Every one of my scenes  could easily end up on the cutting room floor.  But that wasn't the point for me.  The point was that I finally found myself surrounded by an entire horde of like-minded, creative people, all with a shared interest in good, daring film craft versus the sort of crappy television reality show dreck that keeps the average slack-jawed troglodyte amused.  It was nothing short of life affirming.

The only wistful pangs I felt while driving home was wondering if this was just a one-shot stroke of good fortune or a genuine sign of what the future may hold.

Above all I felt that my decision to leave work was reconfirmed since now there was, at the very the least, some hope, possibility and promise in what may come.    

EPIC: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GhA1VRXnYeM  CBC's behind the scenes report for "HWAS"

FAIL: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UhHhXukovMU The funniest thing I've seen since funny was invented.  You'll never be the same again...

Asparagus @ Midnight - Part III

We tramped through the muck between a line of Port-A- Potties and equipment trucks like a pack of white bread migrant workers.  The sight that awaited us just ahead and around the corner was startling.

The distant background was blocked by a mountain of debris.  It looked as if someone had dynamited a modest sized shanty town and then bulldozed the remnants into a small ridge to obscure the horizon.  As we rounded the corner I spied several items in quick succession: a prop phone booth, a series of colored lights designed the give the set a garish cast, an industrious crew wrestling with a myriad of logistics, and a truck with a unique hood ornament that looked as if it had been illegally parked there by The Humongous.  But what caused my jaw to hit the pavement was the scale and condition of the elaborate set laid out before me.

To my left a ominous-looking, run down building crested by a smokestack.  We tramped across a flat, metal plate into an area that resembled a prison common yard.  To our immediate left: a long alleyway set-decorated with evocative props, like a forlorn-looking child's tricycle and an eerie empty stroller.  Anarchic, profane and anti-Hobo graffiti lined every  free space on the walls.

We took care to keep out of the way of Jason and company as they diligently worked away trying to puzzle out the next series of shots.  The A.D. lagged a bit and instructed us to climb the steps to the second level of the main building directly ahead.  Instantly I recognized what look they were going for: we were to line the exterior walkway on the side of this building for a scene reminiscent of the "Thunderdome" sequence in "Mad Max 3".

Which is a point I'd like to address right now.  Before I'd been visited by the costume dude I overheard him asking people if they had anything "funky" to wear.  Nowhere in email sent to me did it mention anything crazier than punk clothing, so color me surprised when I saw people dressed in borderline post-apocalyptic haute fashion.  There were people there in worn leather, fur, chains, feathers, hockey pads, and even chainmail. I saw metallic welder masks and something that resembled Kurgan's serpent skull helmet from "Highlander".  It's a pity I didn't know such things were kosher since I would have brought my old-skool road hockey mark and other crazy stuff.

Having said that, it would sorta suck to have a chance to appear on camera and your face is obscured by a mask.  There!  See how quickly show biz goes to your head?  I was already thinking like Tobey McGuire...

Between the dilapidated set and the very convincing background players milling about, the illusion was complete for me.  Now I know in some humble way what actors mean when they make the claim that, if immersed in convincing surroundings, they don't really have to "act", just lose themselves in the milieux.

Frankly I think Jason's choice RE: the setting is pretty brilliant since he doesn't have to obey the laws of reality, can get really nutty with the visuals and create his own unique tableau.

Me, Lauren and Andrew lucked out.  We took our spots a little under mid-way on the third floor balcony and positioned ourselves by the railing.  The A.D. promptly got us to squeeze further into the frame, improving our chances to be in the shot.  People continued to file in to the walkway above us and a few beetled their way onto the roof.

We had little time to be bored as several of the principal actors made their entrances.  Lauren in particular was keen to spy the Hobo himself and when Rutger Hauer appeared in character we all fell into a respectful hush.  He was set up for a few closeups involving a cool deathtrap gimmick that would make Ernst Stavro Bloefeld turn green with envy.  Also the props department came through with a a unique multi-purpose weapon that could only have been dreamed up by a brain fertilized by years of watching "Evil Dead"-style horror films.   

I'd like to take this moment to re-iterate my motto: people that deal in spoilers are lower forms of life than the cast of "Jersey Shore".

After Rutger's close-ups he retired briefly to his trailer, leaving a very convincing body double to haunt the fringes of the set in his stead.  Even when he wasn't in a scene, he'd check back periodically to lend an encouraging word to his fellow cast mates and the crew and stand back to observe developments just like any other curious onlooker.   

In came another face I recognized right away, Newfoundland-born actor Brian Downey whom you might recognize from the sci-fi series "Lexx" which was filmed right here in Haliwood a few years back.  Resplendent in a pristine white suit, "for display purposes only" slicked back hair and a silver .45, Brian cut an appropriate air of badassery.  Despite his threatening appearance, Brian constantly broke from character to crack up his captive audience with well-timed quips and asides.

Seventeen year old, up-and-coming actress Molly Dunsworth also wandered on set, dressed street-urchin style as "Abby" and ready for mayhem.  And let me tell ya, folks, she was up to the challenge.  The girl's got a real presence and great intensity and if she gets the right bounces she may be our next Ellen Page

We watched in awe as the film-makers prepared for a complicated set up where Brian's villainous Drake captures Molly's character and subjects her to some "Better Homes and Garden's"-style torture.  During this scene, we as background performers were tasked to mime blood-frenzied screams as the dialogue of the principal actors was picked up live.

We ran through our paces as Brian dragged Molly over to his modus operandi torture device de jour, spouting hard-boiled lines of dialogue that Frank Miller would be proud of whilst Molly screamed bloody murder, Fay-Wray style.          
  
Remarkably quick, Jason had his shot and moved on to the next set up.  As the mini video village made it's pilgrimage, we killed the time talking about things on the set that evoked our favorite films and video games.  We also worked up the courage to peek into one of the rooms of the old, abandoned sanitarium, peering through the high-gauge metal security wire bolted to the windows, presumably to keep it's former tenants  inside.  The room was uber-creepy and everyone acknowledged my spot-on reference to "Silent Hill".  The space was tiny, with a warped and debris-strewn floor, peeling paint and a lone spectral-looking desk right in the middle of the room.

It's a damn good sight I had lots of company because if I'd been left alone in that creepy place at that hour I would have pulled a "Scoob n' Shaggy"  in zero to ten seconds flat.

By the time we turned our attentions back to the action, the crew had built a little platform by the "Road Warrior" truck so the camera could get a low angle shot behind the unconventional torture device.  It was quickly surrounded with safety mats.  Sensing that we were about to witness an on set, real time, practical effects effects shot the background horde collectively leaned forward to take it all in.

The gorehounds in attendance were not to leave disappointed.  The splatter effect was first tested in rehearsal on a crew member dressed in a rain suit, so you can just imagine how much stage blood was used for this.  After the effect was triggered the crazed masses roared their approval and began to shout "STAND UP, LET US SEE YOUR FACE!" to our anonymous fall guy. 

The triumphant guinea pig , blood-soaked from head to toe, stood up, turned slowly around, raised his hands high above his head and basked in the adulation of the crowd, now crazed like Roman spectators at the Coliseum.       

We were in for more bloody treats.  Brian and Molly returned to the set and Jason ran them through the next nerve-shattering scene in rehearsal several times to get the blocking, actions, and dialogue all in order.  I noticed with a twinge of nausea that one of the actors now sported a pretty realistic looking wound appliance, quite obviously incurred as a result of the next scene.

After multiple run-through's, the cameras started cranking and Brian repeated the action of dragging Molly over to the carnage zone while the background mob screamed our approval.  The effect was triggered and the tables between the combatants were suddenly turned in a very original twist.

As a dude that's seen a million horror flicks over the years, the way this scene plays out is stomach-turningly original and I really hope it makes it to final edit.

Again I'd like to mention: people who like to pimp spoilers should be shot and the survivors shot again. 

Despite all the preparations and the borderline "one-take-is-all-we're-gonna-get" nature of the scene, Jason requested several re-sets to make sure he got everything he needed.  In one instance Brian seemed surprised by his co-stars unexpected level of genuine rage and reflexively threw away his prop gun.  This led to a bit of consternation from the prop girl who spent several anxious moments between takes, buffing the .45 with wet wipes and towels to make sure it didn't compromise continuity.  After Brian begged forgiveness for his oversight they ran through the scene again. 

This wasn't a problem since our exaggerated background pantomime was keeping us all collectively warm.  It was about 11 pm by now and only seven degrees and it didn't take long for the cold damp to settle into our bones when the action became idle.

Jason requested some nuances in the action, so the takes began to add up.  He asked that Molly add a quick elbow to the skirmish.  He suggested Brian hop back a bit from her initial attack.  He prompted one of his actors to really make sure the makeup appliance was shown to good effect.

All of this was repeated as the camera crew caught the action from another angle as one of the characters got the upper hand.  Keep in mind that Molly is howling like a banshee all the while covered in stage blood from head to toe and by now and Brian's formally blizzard-white suit is bloody beyond all redemption.  It's complete bedlam.

"Don't worry, folks," Brian joked with us between takes, wiping a finger on his face and then popping it in his mouth.  "It's only molasses!  Look...mmmmm, yummy!"

Like a pack of grossed-out grade-school kids a  chorus of "Eeeeeeews!" took to the air and Brian chuckled, clearly amused by his own devilry. A Newfoundlander addicted to molasses, who'd-a thunk it? 

As if oblivious to the gross-out, catering suddenly came by loaded down with fresh sandwiches.  I wolfed  down a smoked meat special and quizzed my new local acquaintances  about the location.

"So, this was...what?  Like a mental institution or something?"

"Yep."

"When did it close down?"

"Oh, a long time ago.  Definitely not during our lifetimes.  Probably sometime in the early Eighties..."

Rather than dwell on just how depressing this was, I quickly added:

"This place is amazing.  I wonder if they're shooting any interiors here?"

"Oh, I imagine," Lauren replied.  "It'd be a waste if they didn't."

"Though I heard that the place was full of asbestos," Andrew added helpfully.

Hmmmm, interesting.  All the while during shooting, I've been leaning out from the parapet getting beaned in the head with drips from above.  For the first time I notice curious-looking mini-stalactites (mites?) hanging from the concrete ledge overhead.  I recall that one drop from this even beaned me in the eyeball.

Before I can ponder the health effects of water-borne asbestos drops to the peepers, we're called back to the action.

In a götterdämmerung orgy of blood, f-bombs and flying bodies (as well as a cool perspective scene inspired by Pter Jackson's "Dead/Alive"), Jason captured everything he needed and we wrapped temporarily.  The A.D. called us down from the walls, gave us a big thumbs up and sent us off to the lunch truck.

Still digesting the brick-burger from earlier I opted for an all-veggie midnight snack of herbed asparagus, smashed baby white potatoes and long grain wild rice pilaf.  Despite the fact that people are stealing away with succulent looking haddock and pork chops I'm still content with something lighter given the late hour.

To my surprise Stanley H. Tweedle himself politely excuses himself as he walks by me and nearly collides with the lowered tail gate of a pick up truck nearby.  He mutters something about "whoa, sorry, I didn't know that was so..." and then trails off.  He approaches the gals in the craft services truck, negotiates a tweak in his meal then promptly vanishes.

I go back to the tent to get warm and I'm amazed by yet another series of tables fully stocked with rolls, noodles, salad, and beverages.  I help myself to a stout cup of coffee, remembering the old adage:

"It doesn't matter how much abuse you put you cast and crew through, it you feed 'em right, they'll stay loyal to the end."

The funny thing is, even if all they offered me was a bit of peanut butter smeared on a playing card, I'd still be in pig heaven.  I'm pleased to note that I'm the happiest I've ever been in my adult life right now despite being half-frozen, unnaturally caffeinated, dressed like a bum and gnawing on a piece of asparagus the size of a redwood at the midnight hour with no end to my day in sight.  All I can think is: "How can I possibly do this for the rest of my natural life?" 

After we've been given ample time to rest, load up on carbs and thaw out by the space heater, me, Andrew and Lauren snap to attention when the A.D. prompts us to get ready to go out.  We're towards the front of the line again and he seems to pick up on our eagerness.  As the masses close in around us he gestures for us to stand aside while the main group is dispatched back to wall duty.

We've been picked for something!  Would it be something special?  I could scarcely contain myself as my imagination ran amok.

Join me next time, Kind Reader, for the final installment as the following things happen in dizzy succession:

*  We face off versus the hated cops.  FIGHT THE POWER!
*  We experience our first casualty.
*  Someone is granted some major firepower.
*  The Hobo inspects his honor guard!

All this and more in the next installment of "You Can't Get There From Here"...

EPIC:  http://www.rutgerhauer.org/ 

BONUS EPIC: http://www.briandowney.biz/

BONUS EPIC: http://www.hs.facebook.com/pages/Molly-Dunsworth/119135304773513?ref=ss

FAIL: http://www.cinematical.com/2009/10/22/quick-list-celebrities-with-the-worst-reputations/

Asparagus @ Midnight - Part II

Learning that I would be on the set of "Hobo With A Shotgun" within a few short hours sent me into a tizzy.  I was like a debutante that had just learned her coming out party had been moved from spring to 8 pm.  Did I have the right "drab" clothes on hand?  An appropriate "garden tool?" (insert obligatory "Garden Weasel" crack here)  Would the car be back in time to make a run for supper, pick up anything I needed and find a location I'd never been to in my life?

I settled upon an old faded blue sweatshirt, worn paint-splattered jeans, and a gray flannel shirt from my grunge/salad days.  In other words, something I would have worn on any day of the week  For a coat I brought along a cheap dark blue raincoat which I normally wear for outdoor concerts and an ancient brown leather pilot jacket.  I completed the look with a pair of worn brown boots that looked on the verge of collapse.  But what to do for a "garden tool"? (insert compulsory "Weed Whacker" joke here)

After grabbing a quick burger I kicked around the idea of making a "Canadian Tire" run for a rake or pick-axe (insert prerequisite "hoe" reference here).  Then I remembered the collapsible camping shovel in the trunk of my car:

Cool!  Just mean, portable and funky-looking enough to say that, well, at least I brought something.

I checked Google maps and navigated the Ninjamobile to the location in Cole Harbor.  My concerns over recognizing the site were groundless as my car approached what looked like an abandoned mental institution perched atop a barren hill.  I felt a flutter of excitement.  The bleak abandoned structure looked absolutely perfect.  One quick glance evoked overwhelming feelings of dread, desperation and unholy menace.  It was already milling with people trying to find parking spaces and negotiate security checkpoints.  Film trucks and police vehicles were arrayed all around.

I'd gotten there around seven; way ahead of schedule.  To kill thirty minutes I did my patriotic duty and back-tracked to the nearest "Tims" to guzzle a quick tea and review my instructions.  

Good set etiquette suggests that you be on site thirty minutes before your call time so I rolled up to the location around 7:30 and coaxed the Ninjamobile up the steep hill.  A security guard stopped me, wearing an incongruous smile and a sunny disposition that seemed in direct opposition to the grim weather.

"Are you background for the shoot?" she beamed, obviously just as stoked as I was.

After I'd confirmed this she directed me to a lot at the top of the hill which resembled a more chaotic than average demolition derby.  She approached my window and suggested I turn around and park on the shoulder of the road half way down the hill.

I maneuvered the Ninjamobile around, approximating the golf cart scene in "Austin Powers", and pulled over in a free spot.  Just before I shut the engine down one of the crew stopped me.

"Hey, listen, we're gonna have some heavy trucks coming up and down this narrow road, so your best bet might be to park down there..." he said, pointing to a lot on the opposite side of the road. 

" I know it kinda sucks but it's probably your best bet."

Obediently, I drove down to the lot, undeterred by the wind, rain and the nagging thoughts of having to strike base camp half way up the summit before making the final approach mere minutes before my call time.  I hopped out of the car, hefted my stuffed-to-capacity murse and struck off.

Just as I approached the front of a parked van, it's horn blasted to life, scaring the bejesus out of me.  I flashed a look of irritation, remembering that instructions implicitly said my clothes on set had to be clean!  It was then that I glimpsed someone behind the wheel beckoning for me to come closer. Cautiously I beetled my way around the puddles to the side of the van, thinking that being abducted as grist for a local human trafficking cartel mere yards away from gaining legitimate access to a movie set was just about par for the course with my luck.

Mercifully it turned out to be a shuttle service, ferrying extras from the lower lot to the set up on the hill.  En route I chatted briefly with a couple of stellar kids named Lauren and Andrew who were also there as volunteer background people.  They proved to be reliable and stalwart company during the next eight hours and I'd love to send a shout out to them for being so cordial to a complete stranger.  Then again, it quickly became clear to me that everyone I spoke to seemed possessed  of an encyclopedic knowledge of movies and a unflagging passion to contribute in some minuscule way to the project so we all had a lot in common. 

"Go into that tent right there and someone'll take care of you," gestured our driver as we disembarked.

We passed through a makeshift corridor of white film-set trucks towards the tent in question, taking note of some very real-looking foreign cop cars parked nearby.  I had little time to marvel as a group of similarly attired matching police suddenly appeared from out of nowhere.  We plunged into the tent.

It was warm inside and packed with a motley assortment of what appeared to be transient folks, freaks and people that looked as if they wandered off the set of "Mad Max", all armed with implements of bloodletting.   After coping with the sensory overload I made my way to a central table where a production assistant was doling out standard issue waiver forms.

I skimmed it briefly ("You, the undersigned, do authorize the use of the cameras on site to capture and claim your mortal soul for all eternity"...blah, blah, blah..."You no longer posses any legal claim to your own image ad infinitum..."...blah, blah, blah, "After termination of filming the shuttle bus will expedite your delivery to awaiting Moroccan slavers"...yada, yada, yada), promptly signed it and then sought out the P.A. to get my "garden tool" approved.

Okay, you can stop giggling now.  For your information, the nice P.A. girl told me it had nothing to do with size but how effectively you threatened people with it, so there!  After this I grabbed a seat wherever I could.  I wasn't idle for five minutes before a woman in a bright yellow rain slicker who looked like she'd been gutting rabbits demanded:

"BLOOD!!!   DID YOU GET ANY BLOOD YET!!?"

"Um, ah, no?"  I peeped.

I was promptly dragged over to a lineup where a veritable rogues gallery were having their implements of...uh, gardening anointed with buckets of stage blood.  When I made it to the front of the line, the nice lady slathered the camping shovel pictured above with gore, smearing it where hypothetically it may have punctured through flesh and then gripping the handle with a bloody hand to show where I'd been handling it.

Since my shovel wasn't very, *ahem*, long she also grabbed my hand a few times ("Jeeze, lady!  At least buy me lunch or something!") to show where the hypothetical splash back may have occurred.

Instantly my senses were struck by the unmistakable smell of molasses.  It appears that, for local independent horror film makers, fake blood of choice is molasses mixed with food coloring.  What can I say, it's a nice, regional spin on the traditional Karo syrup recipe.  

Now, finally a man, she sent me on my merry way and I stumbled around for a bit, unable to shake the impression that I'd just experienced the most surreal yet coolest moment of my life.

I chatted with Andrew and Lauren for awhile and we all bitched a bit, feeling shortchanged in the garden tool department as extras walked by carrying bloody goalie sticks (!), scythes (!!) and chainsaws (!!!).  I didn't have very long to ponder the psyche profiles of my background co-stars before the costume coordinator happened by to appraise my outfit.

Now, I was feeling a bit paranoid about this since he'd just had a tete-a-tete with a woman standing nearby who looked so well dressed that I could easily see her shopping for shoes with Samantha, Carrie, Charlotte and Miranda at Mic Mac Mall.  He let her slide a bit when the jacket was opened but I still felt pressure to impress.

Having said that, the dude's primary concern was the warmth and comfort of the extras.  He was a real gent and more more than willing to compromise a bit in the appearance category if it insured that the performer was warm and comfortable.

"What do you have for me?" he asked upon approach.

"Well, right now I'm wearing these faded jeans, worn boots and flannel shirt.  I've also got these ripped pants but they may be too dark..."

"Oooooo!  What's this?" he asked, eyes alight.

It was an old green shirt I'd cut up for a Halloween costume last year and brought along just as a lark.  Obviously I'd struck a nerve.

"Wear that!" he enthused.

"Inside or outside of the flannel?" I asked.

"Inside's okay, as long as you see a fringe of it underneath,"  he offered helpfully.

"And what about the jacket?" I quizzed.  "The leather looks cooler but the rain coat's a bit more practical if it rains."

"Go with the raincoat.  It'll be warmer," he confirmed.  "Do you have a hat?"

"Just a hood on the coat."

"Perfect!" he declared, then moved on.

I was ready for my close up, Mr. DeMille.

After the A.D.'s showed up to give us a crash course in taking direction, continuity, set etiquette and the background to our pivotal scene, an actor/weapons consultant dressed in full S.W.A.T gear addressed the gathered about on-set firearms.  As if the special effects/blood lesson wasn't cool enough I listened in stunned silence as the dude broke the news that some of us would soon be handling prop firearms ("SQUEEE!!!!").

"If I hand these out to anyone and I see any indication of horseplay I'm taking 'em back and you'll be asked to leave.  If any of these things go missing, you'll see that I have ways to prevent that. Any questions?"

We murmured a collective acknowledgment, not willing to cross someone who looked like he was carrying frag grenades.

"ANY QUESTIONS!?" he yelled in a way that would make R. Lee Ermey wilt.

"SIR, YES, SIR!!!" we thundered.

"ALRIGHT THEN!  LET'S GET OUT THERE AND KICK SOME ASS!!!"

We had a brief pause to debate exactly where this last moment fell on the Awesometer before the A.D. reappeared at the opposite end of the tent.  Quick as bunnies (drifter-type, homicidal, not to be trifled with bunnies, mind you), the three of us rushed up towards the front of the line.

"OKAY, LISTEN UP!  WE'RE GOING ON SET NOW!  IF YOU HAVEN'T YET, PLEASE TAKE A MOMENT TO GO TO THE BATHROOM.  I JUST HAD A GROUP THAT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE OUT THERE FOR HOURS AND WITHIN FIFTEEN MINUTES SOMEONE HAD TO PISS!  FRANKLY I THINK THAT'S BULLSHIT!  SO, DOES ANYONE NEED TO GO TO THE  BATHROOM?"

Appropriately warned, a few skittish souls scrambled off to the port-a-potties as the rest of us were led away to our cinematic destinies... 

Tune in tomorrow for the next thrilling episode of "You Can't Get There From Here" featuring the following::

*  A cordial and very funny star of television and film (who hails from my province of origin) has a hard time holding on to a valuable prop, ruins a beautiful white suit in a moment of bloodlust and just can't decide between halibut and pork chops.

*  A terrific young local actress does her best Fay Wray impression and hands out chocolate to the frozen plebes, all the while looking like Ash in "Evil Dead". 

*  Your humble narrator fears he's about to be undone by his own walnut-sized bladder. 

*  THE HOBO WALKS AMONG US!

EPIC: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KHbBzi4NjsQ  Teaser trailer for "Hobo" feature, not for the faint of heart!

FAIL: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r6C0Fsp_g14  Bruno, not the best background extra...