...I have attempted to write about this for days.
It's a realllllly hard thing when there's so much to talk about.
I could tell you about my getting lost, sprinting my way through the rain in the West Village and the sheer panic of running late to set. ...And that ultimately being just fine.
I could tell you about the millions of lines of communication that it takes for one day-player (aka, Me) to apparently get from Point A to her own little "rabbit hutch" in a trailer (whaaaaat!!!).
I could tell you about the gloriousness that is Hair and Make-Up.
I could tell you about the panic that I felt knowing that the wardrobe guy who openly loathed my thighs was going to assess my outfit for the shoot...and the overwhelming relief when he yelled "UGH! I LOVE iiiiiiiit!"
...I could tell you about the awkwardness that was him showing me off in that outfit to his two random lady-friends.
(Fact: Being on display can totally be fun, in my personal opinion. As in being on display "on stage", etc. However, I have never ever been good about the whole "being on display...to just be looked at" kinda thing. It's bizarre. I don't know how much I belong there.
But, that happened.
And regardless, it felt way better than the alternative of "Way to go and get upstaged by your thighs, Ladyface.")
Instead, I'll start with this: the waiting process.
...
...Three hours after being assessed in the outfit, I'm still holed up in my rabbit hutch. My mind has wandered across the five boroughs and back a million times, I've played a zillion failed rounds of Angry Birds, and have no idea how long I'm going to be staying in this precise spot.
I truthfully don't care, because I'm still here, and that's crazy enough...but the anticipation is killing me.
Knock-knock: "Heyyyy, Angela, you can go ahead and get dressed, we're gonna go on set and rehearse the scene in like 10."
OK, great! Thank you so much.
And then I just kinda started grinning. Stupidly. Because I was alone and looking snazzy and had been for hours already--but now, it was actually happening.
It was all happening.
And then, another knock on the door.
And then, I'm walking to the set.
And then, I'm there.
I'm. There.
As are the other two day-players, and the director, and the writer...and David Rasche. And Oliver Platt. And Ted Danson.
Fine.
...Fine.
(Side-bar: I think that I managed to successfully achieve a kind of calm game-face for the rehearsal--something I'd been legitimately practicing for two weeks after my aunt had thrown the good suggestion of "Don't be weird" my way. Thank you, Aunt Linda. ...However, in my head, I was giggling uncontrollably like some awkward nerdy school girl who's been locked into a room with 1/2 of the football team.)
Fine.
I couldn't have been more ready to go, I was pumped (...that word sounds ridiculously early-90s and I apologize, but I can't think of anything more sufficient), and was starting to feel really stupid great.
And then we broke for lunch.
...
I can only imagine what it feels like to have blue balls, but if ever it could be considered a "fun" predicament, this shoot was shaping up to be quite similar.
The two other day-players and I are escorted to the craft services tent together (...that's still a weird thing to say), and that's when I saw them:
The background actors.
All 40ish of them. Anxious, dressed in similar cocktail attire...and staring daggers into us. This silence pregnant with "Who the shit are you?" overwhelmed the room, as we walked from table to table pretty much reenacting that scene on the bus when Forrest Gump is going to his first day of school.
"Seat's taken."
"Taken."
......
"You can sit hee-yuh, if ya want."
But, no matter! There was cioppino and cucumber water to be had, and lines to be said (on-camera...eventually...), and the other two day-players and I thereby chose to keep our spirits up by talking amongst ourselves. Loudly. (Very, now that I think about it.) Despite the glares.
More on that anon.
We're shuffled back off to hair and make-up for final primping-ness pre-shoot.
"Are you getting exciiiiiiiiited?"
I really really am. I'm so pumped (there's that word again) about this thing!
"Great! Should be fun. ...Oh."
What?
"Are they going to see your legs on camera?"
...
(NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!)
I don't know...
"Oh. Well they're doing that thing that my legs do in the cold, they're turning like blue-white."
Oh. (...Hahahahahaha. Ha.) Yeah, they do that. I guess.
"Well, we'll do this just in case." And suddenly, I had two women on either side of me like intensely rubbing my legs with this airbrush/instant tanner-stuff. I wanted to tell them that they didn't have to do that; I felt awful, they were on their knees, I could have easily done that myself.
Then I realized that that was apparently just a part of their job.
And I simultaneously realized that this leg rubbing was the most action I'd gotten in months. (Hm. ...Well, OK.)
Thank you so so much.
"Go get em, Lady."
"Yeah, have fun."
And with that, the door of the trailer opened, and we were whisked away to set.
There were all of the lights. And the booms and the monitors. And the crew.
"Hey there."
"Hey."
Hi! How are you?! (MAN, they're friendly! How great!)
And then, there they were:
The background actors.
Already there, already in place, leering at us even harder than before.
...
(This is just what it's gonna be. OK.) And I just stood there and smiled. Totally un-weird-like.
"Hi, are you Angela?"
I am, yeah.
"Hi, I'm Michael the director." This little grinning man in hipster glasses and an oversized vintage sportscoat and dilapidated New Balances gives me the most genuine firmest hand-shake in the world. I am instantaneously thrilled and at ease...but mentally pinching myself a million times over.
Hiiiiii, it's so nice to meet you!
"Well, likewise. You're the 'Fire!?!'-line, yes?"
I am.
"Great! Then we'll need you right by the cameraaa..." (EEEP! WHAT?!) "Why don't we put you right here."
And he points to an empty chair at a table right by the camera...with 9 other background actors sitting at it. Glaring.
"That guy to your left is your date, we'll say. Sound good?"
Great! Thank you!
He squeezes my shoulder and walks away, leaving me alone--the nine other heads at the table craned as far away from me as is humanly possible until, for a brief moment, I catch a glance from the guy playing my "date".
(Don't be weird. Don't be weird. Don't be weird. Don't be weird.)
I promise I'll try to not screw this up for you, I hear myself say. (Shit. Dumb.) And shoot him a stupid bashful grin.
(Wait, is he smirking? He's fucking SMIRKING! I AM SO IN!!!!)
And I had been feeling so awkward about the extras at the table that I hadn't noticed Ted Danson and the other two big-man-on-campus-actors hovering in a cluster just behind my shoulder. And then I do.
(Do I shoot them a "bashful grin", too?!... Mehhh, they're not paying attention to me, that's fine.)
"Alright, let's rehearse this, people!"
(Oh man oh man oh man oh man OH MAN!)
And thusly begins an exchange of lines that were said at least 150 times over the next four hours (and I guess this is a pseudo spoiler alert...):
"CHARACTER WHO SHALL REMAIN NAMELESS" (I'll get to why in a sec): (...gives a very long speech that I'll get into shortly, and we're all acting elitist. When...)
BERNARD: A rat just ran up my pant leg! A large rat!
Day-Player #1: I think I see it!
BERNARD: I think it's right over there.
Day-Player #2: Ohhhh, something just ran over my foot!
GEORGE (Ted Danson): Um. Fire!
MEEEEEE: Fire!?!
GEORGE (Ted Danson): I think the rat is on fire!
I shriek. A couple of people start to run. Then there's a stampede. ...End of scene.
Simple :)
Super fun :)
Now:
Interesting things start to happen when you do a million takes a million times over.
For A) It allows you the opportunity to see people for who they really are, because it allows you to see up close and personal the way in which they work. And therefore, you get a really good assessment of the egos in the room.
I think that the Plushie from the reading had a point: I'm finding that the people who are deserving of the big ego (the Ted Dansons of the world, for example, etc.) don't have it. Because why bother. ...And that's awesome.
ONE of the actors, however ("Character Who Shall Remain Nameless")...his ego was kind of overwhelming. Whether he was skulking off in a corner with a hand-held fan in his face or effing with the script or generally being difficult, it was a kind of jarring thing to see. But I took it in, thought That's just what he does and who he is and did my best to focus on my own stuff.
My table was seated approximately 5-6 feet away from this particular actor's post.
The background actors at my table could not have talked more shit about this actor--OPENLY--if they tried.
"God. You think he could get his lines right once."
"I thought the correct pronunciation was 'eeeko-friendly' not 'ekko'. Should we tell him?"
"I want his fan. It's so hot in here. Why don't we have fans?"
"Ridiculous."
"I mean, I know his lines by now."
"Right?! God!"
"God!"
...He was RIGHT! THERE! I don't CARE if another actor is blatantly effing around and is exhibiting blatant disregard for the other people around him--he still has a major career, and who the hell are you to be talking shit about this man right in front of him?!
Egos.
So, that happened. And I consequently vowed to never become "that".
...
For B) It simply affords you the opportunity to get comfy with what you're doing. Get your nerves out. Play a little.
So I did. ...I had one line, I didn't feel like that would be a crazy endeavor.
A half an hour into shooting, a weird thing happened:
The director came up to me in between takes and leaned into my ear.
"I don't know how the hell it is that you're managing to make one word so funny, but it's really good."
Whoa! Really?!
"Yes. Really. Keep it up."
Oh my god, thank you so much!
...Somehow, that kept happening.
With all of these different people.
And I didn't really get it (I still don't), but it felt really great and humbling and surprising and awesome. And it gave me the confidence to actually look Ted Danson dead in the eye when I shrieked and play a little bit more--which was, you know, fun. Very fun.
And then somehow, the more that the shoot wore on, the more you started to hear this all over the place:
"Fire!?!"
"FIRE!?!"
"Fire!?!"
"Fire!?!?!"
"FIRE!?!"
"Fire!?!"
"FIRE!?!" EVERYWHERE!!!!!...And here's me in a corner continually popping my ego-balloon so as to not become a swelled douchebag and let my first time on a big set in a big way ever get to me...
But godDAMMIT!!!
It is a hard thing to not feel awesome when everyone on set is walking around saying your one line.
(How are people saying my line? WHY are people saying my line?! What is happening?!?!)
It was crazy.
But the whole damn THING was so much fun, I could have stayed there for days.
The longer I was there, the more I was beginning to think Really, I hope they keep me til like 2am, I don't want to be done.
But.
It was 8:30, and I was in the middle of a Ben and Jerry's-related conversation with the crew upstairs when I was released.
I ran around the set and Thank Youd everyone possible--profusely--was escorted back to the rabbit hutch...and it was done. It was all over.
...It's been six days.
I'm not even remotely over it.
Immediately after shooting, I made this promise to myself that just because I had that (and was really really really lucky to have had that) that it was no excuse for me to start resting on my laurels.
I need to keep pushing.
Frankly, as far as I'm concerned, I need to push even harder to ensure that this kind of opportunity can happen to me again. Because I do want it again. Really badly.
And maybe, I'll just become that one-line girl. Maybe next time, I'll run on screen and scream "WATER!?!" and run off. Just because.
"Ay dios miiiio!" Something.
That could be great.
Regardless, I had a day. And it was a really really good one.
...But I do.
I want more.
And I am going to do everything everything everything I can to make that happen.
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