Dressed as number 11, he swung the bat at his hometown field during the nostalgic 1970's -where he returned to commit suicide. But his mom (Ellyn Burstyn) comes back from the dead to talk him out of it. (And whether he lives or dies makes no difference to us extras...we just wanted to get out of the blazing sun bearing down on us before we had a meltdown in the open bleachers.)
That's the quick and dirty version of this film's plot. The long version dealt with our 6:30 AM to 7:PM stint, spent getting fitted for post-hippy chic. I was given bell-bottomed pants that didn't fit and I had to keep pulling them up until I finally got my hands on a large safety pin and reduced the 44 inch wasteline to a more managable one that could remain escalated around my girth. Afterwards, I was sent to make-up to have "porkchop sideburns" pasted on my cheeks in order to better fit into that period -a period which I lived through in polkadot shirts, tight pants and western boots. Certainly not the pukey mustard-colored tight-fitting terrycloth shirt I was given!
Quite frankly, some of my fellow extras fared a lot better... even with the wigs! I think the wardrobe department had a "Mod Squad" fetish... My friend, Karli Bonne, came out looking like a brunette version of Peggy Lipton.
The made-for-TV movie is an adaptation of Mitch Albom's book -and presented to the boob tube by Oprah Winfrey through the directorial exhuberance of Lloyd Kramer. Once Oprah recommends a book, it becomes a sure-to-make-it-big on the best sellers list. Thereby assuring an audience for this production... most likely to be aired on ABC... TBD!
Michael Imperioli took more guff from some of the more "experienced" cheering section than the non-specific direction given to our cadre of fans had called for (e.g. "What a lousy slice -you bat like a pussy!"). So that when the cheering got a bit ugly, the over-enthusiastic yellers were approached and told to cease the all-too-accurate jeers. After all, we were instructed to make believe that his first hit was a homerun (even if it was a foul). But Michael bore up well and was a real trooper. Such is movie-reality.
We were relocated several times in the bleachers to make the crowd look thick (I had tons of exprinence with this in the CMA Forex commercial a couple of weeks ago). The bleachers, however, had some obstacles in store for us: At one large area they were covered by squashed berries that had fallen from the overhanging tree; at another there was a wasp nest and they were zooming about our heads rather antagonisticly -enough so that a couple of us went running up and down the steps to try to escape their attacks and eventually we had to yell at the assistant director to stop reseating us in this section! Lloyd's bullhorn kept on with "...aaaaand.... ACTION!" They didn't care. The scene had to be completed while there was daylight...
Most of the people were called back to the bleachers after our meager roast-chicken lunch break... I was not among them -and didn't really mind. I had somehow been spared a second grilling from the August summer's hazing sun. I just cozied up to my seat in holding and let the hours pass until wrap time. Outside, a scene with Michael and his "father" would take forever. Something wasn't going right and the extras were kept in perplexity as to the reasons for the delays in the shoot. When the participating extras returned a few hours later, I got different stories from different people. But the gist was that it was a mess... the scene wasn't working. They had us for the past 12 hours -additional time would incur OT... so now it was WRAP time!!! Ah, the rush of stamping feet as they returned their wardrobe and hair-pieces for the exchange of the "ticket to leave", our VOUCHERs... which we now had to get signed. And now the lineup -an occasion to banter among each other while we wait for the PAs to process our IDs and at the same time trying to focus on the availability of the nearest exit door.
I made friends with a couple of people, and one of them quickly economized on it. Angelo asked if I could give him a ride into the city. I told him I could drop him off in Queens and off we went. While enroute to Queens, I learned that Angelo was a dancer persuing acting. He was post-college-age whose favorite dancer was pre-kiddie-Michael Jackson... and now Angelo wanted a career. I knew exactly what he meant -it was time for me to start getting back to mine also. The one in the real world. My phone rang -I got an interview scheduled in the middle of the week with a large firm in midtown NYC. More calls follow with opportunities of large salaries and full benefits and bonuses... etc. Reality beckons and acting strange now presents new challenges in both worlds.
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