The "27 Dresses" of Katherine Heigl

( This was one of the best background exposures I ever got in a major motion picture. Even my wife shouted "WOW! That's you..." )

It just keeps getting better and better... these 3:PM call times are great!
The studios must have figured out after all these years that getting the extras on set in the early morning is just another way of assuring them more overtime pay! After all, there is so much to set up at the locations: euqipment, lights, props, fabrications, food...etc. This time we were taken to set at 5:30 PM -not too bad of an initial wait for those of us dressed to be part of the NYC backround business crowd. Unfortunately it was a different story for the "wedding guests"... they had to wait 9 hours in their fancy costumes prior to shoot time!

Katherine Heigl and Judy Greer were waiting for us on the corner of Madison Avenue and 50th Street last Sunday. They were dressed in shiny purplish bridesmaids outfits and kept picking up their dresses' bottoms as the humid city streets radiated the clammy summer heat up their legs. Between takes, Judy Greer was wearing flip-flops instead of the high heeled accessory and Katherine Heigle had a lit cigarette pulled in and out of her mouth by a doting production assistant.

"Oh no Katherine...DON'T SMOKE! It'll just make your `anatomy greyer'..." I undertoned to my partner, a fellow "businessman" with whom I was paired for the walkby shoot that would start in a moment or two. And after discussing with him how often women seem to be getting lung cancer, he and a fellow extra, dressed as a hippy, lit up a couple of "fags" of their own (pardon my British).
The shoot was over in an hour or so and we were taken back to holding: The Women's Republican Club on 51st Street off 5th Avenue.

Going up to the 2nd floor, there were portraits of famous patrons, first of which was Nancy Reagan. "She used to carry a gun in her purse!" I mentioned to one of the extras in my group.
"Did she REALLY?" was her response. Many of the extras were young and "before my time", and as I found out later, devoid of political savy that predated Saturday!

Upstairs we were seated at a dozzen or so linen covered, albeit unset, dinner tables while the SAG crew was lined up to eat. We, the non-union people, were told in no uncertain expletives that this was for "SAG ONLY...SAG ONLY!!!". So I got on the line and got my portion. (They rarely check for your SAG card proof.)


Meanwhile, back at the table, we were told to "scrunch" together because more people were coming!? This created an intimate group of 10 people at our table with various backgrounds whose stories ranged from experiences of living in a haunted house, the simple life in South Carolina and the eventual topics of religion, politics, weird jobs and writing the Great American Novel! Along with the banter and a rousing round of a card game that has come to be called BULLSHIT... we managed to pass the hours away until we were summoned again to the night-time streets in front of the New York Palace.





Built in 1882, it evolved from housing for the local gentry to being a fancy-shmancy hotel. We were taken over to the set and placed on our #1 marks as a large truck pulled up and began to wet down the street. "They always do that for night shoots! It makes it look prettier on the film!", my new loquacious walking-partner explained as my beige pants were being sprayed. In between shoots, she proceeded to tell me her life story for the next hour: actress... therapist... religious organizer...rent-control instigator...and back to being an actress again!

"And what about you?", she deigned to ask... when suddenly the PA's called out, "Who's non-SAG here?". Immediately my hand went up -hoping for what would eventuate. And it did. We, the non-SAGers were told to go back to holding, where we were to sign out and go home!!! Excellent timing.

Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2 (aka CHICK FLICK)

YALE... New Haven, CT... summer... and a couple of hundred sweaty background-extras sitting around for 5 hours in the sweltering heat of the holding areas surrounding St. Bonneface School on yet another New England street named Broadway. An occasional breeze wafts through the closely built housing, causing the welcomed venturi effect of a faster, cooler wind tickling our well-dressed perspiring bodies. But it's only momentary and then it's back to the "Sisterhood of the SWEATY PANTS 2, 3, 4...".

This was BRUTAL! Yesterday I was doing a commercial for Harvard Pilgrim Healthcare in Sea Cliff, Long Island -also a sunburning 90 degree standing-forever-outside ordeal in addition to eventually being "trapped in the holding bus" for a long time -without a/c!!!

This morning however, I had a great yoga class on the beach and utilized it's calming effects for... "most of the day".

Got checked in at noon, but it wasn't until after 5 PM that we were taken to the set location around the block, University Theater, where we were seated and told that the a/c was off so as not to interfere with the sound recording's quality. (Moan!) Some of us were placed in the back row and told to clap vigorously as one of the cameo stars, Kyle MacLachlan, dressed in a white suit came in and observed the make-believe play that was taking place on the real stage in the front of the theater. He would make empathetic facial grimaces and self-congratulatory gestures to acknowledge the "make-believe play's success". Then suddenly, the upcoming Moroccon-madam-director, Sanaa Hamri, yelled CUT, went over to Kyle to give him some direction and called him "Bill"!? "Oooops!" she demured. "Did I just call you Bill? I'm so sorry..." Followed by lots of nervous laughter. And then retakes.



I was enthralled... (flashback)... here was the star of DUNE: The Desert Messiah -in person...yessssssss! I didn't see any of Kyle's other works (e.g. Sex and the City, Desperate Housewives, etc.), but I really liked his role as Paul Atreides (Muad'Dib) and he became a sort of sci-fi icon for me... (back to the present)...

Later on, we the background, were shuffled around for various effects and then sent out into the street as our new holding area... for the next 3 or so hours!? CRUEL, very cruel... very. So we chatted, networked, exchanged cards and occasionally wandered off to feed ourselves at the local stores -because there was no food provided for the multitude of extras, although there was plenty of fancy "mangia" -seafood with safron rice...mmm... for the principal cast and crew. This was really, really LOoooooow! And then it began to RAINNNNNNN!

At that point, we were taken back to the former holding area where we were lined up inside the church's ultra-dim main service hall and told to get our vouchers signed. The line was enormous and there was only one -ONE production assistant to check and sign our I-9 paper. The camel's new straw was starting to strain, even under the auspices of the religious surroundings, and people started to "sneak" in at the front of the line. The expected result: YELLING and CURSING!!! I was lucky to be among the first 20 so I got out relatively quick and went to pick up my backpack and jacket. Unfortunately they were MOVED!!! And no one knew where they were... I searched franticly in the netherworlds of the school and happened upon an area in the basement, where the SAG union people were carousing and enjoying trays of FOOOOOD -amongs them the coveted seafood with safron rice! I wasn't going to give in to that. I was on a mission to find my belongings and get the hell outahere!

Went back upstairs to the church service area and saw some clothing on the floor...amongst which were my backpack and other self-supplied wardrobe. Scooped them up and ran out the door... the WRONG DOOR! It was now raining more profusely and I was totally disoriented. I was frustrated and angry at the chaotic manner in which we were handled -it used to be so much more professional. This was a MESS! But the rain started to take it's extinguishing effect and I started to feel calmer with each soaking step. I found my way down York Street and as I passed the mostly deserted set-location, there, under the SAG-food tent, a lonely figure wearing glasses and a red polo shirt, was scrounging through the last vestiges of nourishment. I recognized him; it was Kyle MacLachlan. As I passed by, I yelled "Have a good night Kyle... or is it Bill?" He waved back and said good night with a friendly squinting smile -not knowing who the heck I was. And that was the perfect ending for me on this gig.

Chess Babe not a bitch

Jennifer Shahade, a definite star on the chess scene, wrote a provocative book entitled: CHESS BITCH -essentially addressing all the foibles and fables about women in chess. So when the grandmistress held a simultaneous play event at the Nassau County Museum of Art, my wife and I went to see her in action -and I actually got into the act as one of the 18 players.

Having a reputation for liking to "dress up"... she wore a summery see-through dress with a plunging neckline... the rest of us wore jeans and t-shirts on this sunny afternoon under the white tent of the museum's latest attraction, surrealism in the art of chess!

Her short introduction was very friendly and very direct. When asked about her background and name, she immediately addressed the fact that she was born in the USA of a Lebanese-Jewish heritage. She had started to learn chess at age 6 but didn't really get "into it" until about 13, in high school. She graduated NYU and decided it was easier to make money playing/coaching chess rather than doing the 9-5 grind. Good choice Jennifer! Let the games begin.

Simultaneous play rules proclaim that the GM has white and we, the players must move when she comes around to our board. She opened with her king pawn to e4 and I countered with my queen pawn to d5... Not a very popular defense but one I've been experimenting with during my Sunday morning Bagel Boss Deli-friendly games. Needless to say, I haven't kept up with my chess-acumen, although I did play quite a bit in my college days and even got a chance to joust with Rossolimo in his old Greenwich Village chess studio back in the 70's... and beat him in one of the 16 games I managed to note. So much for my chess-braging. Playing with the ebullient Jennifer was a different experience... As the games progressed, her energy level started to rise as well... in fact towards the end games she was practically running from board to board. And then one of the organizers yelled "PIZZA's here!" Game or no game...we were all famished from all the concentration and we just started to sneak off to the pizza table. But food makes your mind too relaxed and my grand-opponent missed a good chance to fininsh me off quickly on her 24th move, at the following position:

The pretty sacrifice with B x p/g would have quickly ended my bold attempt to become the CHESS BASTARD! Alas, she missed the fast-track opportunity and opted to prolong my inevitable demise on the fortieth move, when I reached across the board, shook her hand and resigned. My wife really liked that move!

DAMAGES! with Glenn Close

Glenn Close is a lovely lady... but I really didn't get to see more than the back of her head duing the filming of her new TV pilot: DAMAGES!

My newly unempoyed status from my real-life job of a consultant has released me from my daily 5:AM wakeup time and the nearly 5 hour round-trip drives to New Jersey for the past 11 months. The welcome call time for my return to the world of showbiz was a comfortable 2:PM in NYC's DUMBO -and holding was at the stylish Toro Restaurant near the set around the corner: Water Street Restaurant. We were instructed to bring 2 changes of clothes but ultimately were stuck in only one. I brought a suit and a sportcoat, which was stylishly coordinated by the costume department as a "mix" of my black suit-pants, the grey sports jacket, a glossy green shirt that was vehemently complemented with my solid maroon tie!? I would never have guessed to do this. But then, I'm not a fashionista!

During my stay on the second floor of the Toro, I made friends with a couple of the other extras and we shared our experiences... for 2 hours. At 4:PM we were taken to the set where three of us guys were strategically situated at a table for four. We were to mime our dinner conversations while Glenn Close and her "son" were having an argument a few tables away from us. There were numerous takes and the girl who played the waitress for their table later told us how nice Glenn was as she introduced herself -thereby breaking the ice barrier which prevents us extras from initiating direct contact with the stars. Our table had a "young waitress" assigned also, and during takes we found out that she had attended UMASS a while ago. Hmm?

As the takes ended, the extras were shuttled into the basement bar area of the set. One could only assume from the strange juxtaposition of the drum set on a single shelf, that only "raves" were occuring down here. At any rate, it was calmingly dim and we all found a place to perch. I sat next to our waitress and initiated a philosophical conversation. She was intelligent and expressed her beliefs in "helping all sentient beings"! Our conversation went haywire somewhere and she became adamant in her attitude toward "theoretically not helping someone in need" (e.g. an old lady falling in front of her). For some reason, her new attitude became very stubborn: "Are you crazy? I really don't know what I would do in a theoretical situation... It's not MY JOB to help someone... ". But I suspect it was all an act (DUH?). I say that because, in the beginning of our conversation, she interrupted our talk, politely excused herself, went over to a lampshade that had been precariously perched against a lit lightbulb, and fixed it..."to prevent a fire". ACTions spoke louder than all the smoke we'd been blowing in each others' face during the wait for the next shoot. Which was never to be for us non-union extras. We were dismissed for the day and the pay was a bit more than usual: $100. Nice surprise... even better, the time had disappeared very quickly with our bullsession.

Epilogue: That's me in the cirlce of the 3rd episode... (I'm feigning "obscurity").

Spike Lee's M.O.N.Y.

My first gig in 7 months since working full-time (and still being employed) in the real world!

Of course I had been getting cast calls... one of the most recent one being The Bourne Ultimatum. Grant Wilfley called a couple of weeks ago but I had my car radio on so loud that I didn't hear my cell phone ring. And consequently when I finally realized that I had a call (2 hours later), Michole (?), the person I was supposed to contact, was no longer there and in all likelyhood, all extras had been selected. That hurt! I really wanted to see old Matt Damon do his stuff.

And then other opportunities arose. A possible photo shoot at the Paramus Mall for $50... hmmm, maybe? But then Desiree's email offers got better: Mayor Of New York with Spike Lee as director was offered for a weekend gig! I submitted for it and the old ball was in full swing again. I was #119 and got my location instructions from Sylvia Fay's call-in board: CITY HALL -excellent!!! I could finally see the place "from the inside".

The call time was for 1:PM -rather late in the day for a shoot... but who cared- I could sleep late and take my sweet time getting there. I did my IMDB research on the project and found out that it was an NBC TV pilot for which the principals were Bobby Cannavale and Carmen Ejogo.
I've seen Bobby on other TV shows but Carmen was a new name to me. I was pumped up for the occasion.

HOLDING was across the street from City Hall in the ancient Emigrant Industrial Savings Bank on Chambers Street. A grand marbled structure that was pretty well preserved from it's heyday of keeping fifty some odd tellers busy at the "jail-barred" windows. The last time I was in a bank like that was Brooklyn 1959!

The extras were assembling in the center of the bank under the grand ceiling that had huge oval stained-glass designs depicting the various industries the bank catered to... I sat under "Engineering". Near the check-in area there were rows of food -none of which was available to us for some weird reason. In fact we were only provided with pretzels, lollypops and tiny Snicker bars with some juice for the rest of the day. Not even coffe or tea! Just another typical crew-class discrimination (and starvation).

After check-in I met up with a couple of regulars I'd seen on other sets. I settled down at a table where I started chatting with my acquaintances, one of whom was Bill "It's a RAPP" and the other one being Pat. The conversation flowed generously... and it's a good thing too because we weren't called to set for another 5 hours!

The first scene for me was to walk from across the long hallway with a colleague business-type as the principals were walking behind. I was given the NY Times and a briefcase for props. This only took about 10 takes, during which we got to see Carmen stroll by -she's much prettier and younger than her photo depicts. Bobby was shorter than I expected... but then it seems that I always expect these guys to be "bigger than life"!? And Spike was definitely shorter than I expected -a striking character non-the-less. He projects an interesting charisma -somewhere between "cool-calm-and-collected" and moderately aloof.

Our second scene was to be a bunch of "power brokers" seated in a small room behind the principals. Our direction was to look busy, sign things, and "shuffle paper around". As it turned out, I was shuffling my papers rather loud for the second take and the boom-man indicated that we should make like there was "no papers there" becasue the mike was picking up too much noise with it. The warning was appropos but alas, too late. Spike was heading for us from the opposite end of the hall. We all knew what was coming...

He crouched down to our coffe table level, raised his eyebrows above the hoot-owl glasses and quietly and demurely explained that we needed to make no sound with the papers... and that this was the last scene of the day... and that we would be out of here at 8:30 PM if it went right!

Well! That was the best incentive. After all, we had been in holding from 1:PM to 7:PM... only had to do background work for an hour and a half and it was WRAP-time! So we mimed through the scene 2 more times and all went well. City Hall was evacuated fairly fast as we all headed for check-out...at 10 hours...and HOME!

Epilogue: I got a call the following day from my agent... way too late in the day for me to rework my plans... for a callback! Apparently there was a "mix-up" in communications (i.e. no one told us) and Spike needed everyone back for the second day! Unfortunately I had already commited to going to a birthday party and a Moroccan wedding! And I stuck with my commitment. Sorry Spike -better plans next time.

BINGO with Ringo! A paying job came along.

But not before we got to see Ringo Star at the Wesbury Theater. A close up venue where the stage goes round and round so everyone can see the stars from every friendly angle. It was a strange crowd too. A fight almost broke out a few rows ahead of us, primarily because of two big guys who couldn't stop standing up at every song that Ringo's All Star Band played. And then there was the drunk behind us who kept clapping with a full open cup of beer in his hand. Needless to say, my friend got a decent dosing of beer on his shirt and some of it drizzled onto my seat as well. He was so drunk that he tried to hide the cup under his seat while we were staring at him! Hic!

Anyway... I got a full time paying job that takes me back to one of my former working places -but this time with better pay and more interesting work!

So I'll be putting my acting career (and most likely this blog) on hold ---at least until they lay me off... or promote me!
Either way, "I'LL BE BACK!"

Hilary Duff on Conan

I ducked into the doorway of the NBC building after my real-world job interview completed at Rockafeller Center -so that I could get on my cellphone to my headhunter to tell him how the hour and 30 minute grilling went down. When, all of a sudden, in the middle of my call, a black SUV pulls up, 2 paparazzi pop out of the revolving door behind me and begin to head for the docked vehicle. The car door opened and out came a bodyguard, some agent-types and... some starlet!?

I was busy qwelling about my performance during the interview to my agent when I noticed that as the entourage passed and the flashbulbs sparkled -a smoking woman across the doorway from me, was taking her cigarette break and not really responding to the fuss, in fact not so much as a blink crossed her nonchallantly gazing eyes. Very relaxed and into her smoke.

After my call was completed, I went over to her and asked if she knew who the young ingenue clad in the black dress might have been. She responded with,

"Hilary... something..."

I immediately clicked on the second part of her nomenclature: "Duff"!

Yup! That was Hilary Duff all right. But the smoking woman was still unfazed -although she did complement my ability to decipher the mystery (frankly, I think she may have been pulling my leg). Nonetheless, I conversed with the smoking woman for another moment or two (so it wouldn't seem as though I was just "using" her) and then got on my way. I was wondering what Hilary Duff was doing here... was she being interviewed also?

So now, here I was in June. Not a single showbiz gig for a month... (and although there were castcalls, neither Spiderman 3 or Enchanted allowed "repeat extras" in their new June scenes) -when along comes this chance-sighting. So I guess it wasn't a total wash after all. I guess this will have to do for now. Thanks Hilary... you made my month!


Later, in the comfort of my home, while watching NBC that night, the announcer mentioned that Conan O'Brien's guest was going to be Hilary Duff. So I stayed up to 1 in the morning and watched her sit in the "gecko-chair". She wore the same black dress... Bingo!

Spiderman 3 on the Avenue of the Americas

The 6:AM call time meant that I'd have to get up at 4:20 AM to catch the 5:11 AM train... (yawn).

But I knew that I'd sacrafice my sleep-time and whatever Memorial Day plans I had -just to be on this set for 3 days as a background extra. The ordeal was draining -but well worth it. I put 36.94 hours into standing around, running in fear, fighting with makebelieve cops, avoiding computer debris from hitting me on the head -and of course clicking away a few paparazzi-style pictures of the cast and crew.

Our director for the first two days was Sam Raimi. He was the first director I've ever seen on set to constantly be wearing a suit. Most of the "trendy" directors wear some type of "nuveau hat" or jacket or some outlandish color that allows their clothes to be noticed. Not Sam. He was neat, focused and professionally kind. He personally addressed the extras with respect and gave a clear synopsis of what we were expected to do. He also did something very classy... he spoke to the gawking tourist crowd and took pictures with them... he also invited a few of the enlisted men to come onto the set and watch the movie making from a few feet away. Observing his style, I developed great respect for him. It's too bad he didn't stick around for the third day. "Unit 2" apparently had a director with a much more different style and all of a sudden there were delays, mishaps, walk-away meals (read: buy your own lunch), and even a thunderstorm which suspended shooting for an hour. I hope Sam returns soon.

The fun part of watching the stunts take place was mezmerizing. The "real Spiderman" (a.k.a. stuntman Henry Amos) was swinging through the canyon of tall buildings on 6th Avenue with Ron Howard's pretty daughter, Bryce Dallas Howard hugging him. The tethers on their torsos were attached to two large cranes -one for the vertical lift and one to create the arc-swing. I was repeatedly amazed by how gently the two actors were able to land on the debris-strewn concrete fountain area. All of the extras were snapping away with their low resolution telephone-cameras, while I had my handy-dandy digital Sony doing a little zooming at a much higher resolution. One of the PA's eventually begged us not to do it in front of the producers! (Otherwise it was O.K.)

In one scene we were told to react and run for our lives as a loud explosion took place and precariously placed desks and computer equipment went dropping all around us. One of the desks landed in the windshield of a taxi cab and another piece of metal crushed a vendor's hot dog stand with broken girders all over the place. I couldn't help but "reminisce" about my experiences during 9/11... Other extras also had a similar reaction to this scene. But thank goodness we have a "friendly neighborhood Spiderman" to look over us!

Bryce, having been saved, ran to the arms of her police-chief father, played by the ubiquitous actor James Cromwell. He is another magnanimous actor who likes to go sit with the extras on occasion and sign autographs. I love that down-to-earth attitude. Enter the scene, Topher Grace (he's shorter than I expected), with camera in hand, interviewing Spiderman while clicking away at his visage. Something was not satisfactory with Topher and he started to pace back and forth while discussing the scene with Sam Raimi.

While this is going on, I elbow my friend and mention how funny it is to see these guys going at it while some little shrimp in a white shirt and sunglasses is standing next to them eating chinese food from a takeout dish. I was then quickly and comicly corrected with the explanation that the kid in the white shirt was in fact Tobey Maguire. Coooool!

So he was here after all. And it suddently struk me how weird it was to see the stuntman in costume, Tobey the eating-actor, and a close look-alike in an orange polo shirt who was his stand-in for light and distance measurements -all of whom, as a conglomeration, were needed to depict Spiderman. (One for the price of 3 -That's the American economy. I suddenly have a deeper understanding of the speedy US debt-counting sign nearby which is showing the amount to be in the KAZILLLION dollar range at the moment. Oh well, I guess we'll just have to export more movies).

Breakfast and lunch for the first two days went really well... especially the 2nd day, when we had blackened cajun catfish and tons of garnish and desert to go along with it at the Roseland Ballroom. Throughout the day there were little sandwiches being passed out to the crew. The rule was that the crew must be the first to take from the tray... and if there's anything left over, we, the extras, could have it. I guess it's part of the Caste Laws in the Movie-Manu System. Needless to say, there were few, if any mid-day sandwiches left. But I kept a bottle of water in my pocket. This came in very handy because the weather turned really warm (we're talking 80's) and all of us were told to wardrobe for autumn weather (suits, scarves, gloves, overcoats). My raincoat was black and it absorbed heat like a sponge. Other extras were stripping off their clothes between takes. It was a real do-your-laundry provoking scene. Even Spidey was dragging his ass.

The three days ended and some of us exchanged emails so we could share the pictures we took on the set. One of the guys who asked me to take a picture of him in "costume", was a "ticket concierge" and said he would be "helpfull" in getting me any tickets to theater shows and concerts. I'll be testing that offer pretty soon! My other background buddies are shown below.

The following day I got an offer to work on the Spiderman set again... in 2 weeks. So I guess this is a "to be continued" ending!

Auditioning in Connecticut

It had to be one of the rainyest days for my drive up to the Norwalk studio. But 60 miles later I had arrived at a pretty modern setup in the middle of a family-style quaint and quiet neighborhood. As I approached the entrance, it was laden with tons of electronic equipment, neatly arranged and well organized. A young woman was speaking to a tall man as she greeted me and welcomed my "talent" status inside the hipster-stylized abode. Friendly, yes... but all business in attitude. I was asked if I wanted any refreshments, given my lines and seated inside the studio's grand white backgrounded set. I found my cofort and began to internally rehearse the syllabus:

"The doctors and nurses at St. Vincent's gave me superb care...
[pause]
...I'd trust them with my grandson!"

I pretty much glanced at it and had it down pat. Two lines of script. How easy is THAT?

The young cameraman came in and fiddled with the video camera that I would be slating in front of pretty soon. It was quiet for a while... and then I broke the ice with him by stating that the white background of the studio looked like something out of "THX1138"! That got him to look up and immediately shmooze about the film. (After all, that was George Lucas' first big breakthrough in the early 1970's... and one of my personal all-time favorite movies). Our banter was soon interrupted by the cordial director, Paul, who explained the scenario and got me right up in front of the camera. He did a few takes with a couple of different suggestions and then asked if it would be alright for him to make my hair look more "salt & peppery" for the hospital ad. "No problem." I heard myself respond. But internally I had instantly grasped that I was too young for the part and that unless a miracle took place, I wasn't going to be making the $600 bucks for this stint. But cordial-Paul asked if I'd be available on Monday and Tuesday if the client had decided in my favor. To which, of course, I had no problem aquiescing... again knowing fully well that this would be a very remote possibility. The part really called for a more silver-haired grandfatherly-frail-looking old bugger.

This was a complete reversal of my full-time job interviews, where jobs are predominantly given to those who are young. You just can't win!

So I got back into my car and drove antother 60 miles back home through the avalanching thunderstorm. Cost of trip (gas, tolls, nerves): $30.00 plus "interest". I don't think I want to travel across state lines for an acting job -unless pay is assured (and how many times have I said that before?).

Now my mercenary side is starting to kick in!!!

Banking on a commercial in Brewster, NY

First and foremost, the craft food services were EXCELLENT! Much more extravagant when compared with the cheap Disney or skimpy Warner Brothers food provisions for the extras on set. The other feel-good moment came when friends from previous gigs started showing up. And still better was the fact that we were 75 miles upstate from NYC -and we were breathing clean air. That made up for the 3 previous days of sucking bus fumes in Times Square. Also my cold was starting to subside.


Three small movie theaters made up the location kown as Empire Cinemas. Our holding area was in one of them and we settled comfortably into the modern cushy rocking seats. In the lobby and in the next movie room, the crew was doing the lighting setup. In the third movie theater, we had the hot lunch arrangement. Holding didn't take too long and we were all called into action at the lobby. I was placed with one of the women I had met at the ONE NINE shoot. As a couple, we and the rest of the extras, would grab the popcorn from the counter and head into the theater. The director was a hearty and energetic soul who went by the name of Ed Buffman. He was jocular but stern with a good focus on what he wanted to accomplish. The principals consisted of a young couple, whose overly-cordial banker would provide them with everything they needed -even before they needed it!

"I got your tickets… RIGHT HERE!… Here's your popcorn… JUST THE WAY YOU LIKE IT!"

Upon which he ushered them into the apparently fully seated movie theater, walked up to two isle seats and grabbed a bar which had been joining two "mannequin seat holders" together, raising them into the air with the obvious service of making sure his bank customers had seats. Everyone cracked up laughing. But after a couple of takes it became routine to see the dummies' arms dangling helplessly while the "smart banker" provided his enthusiastic grin between their lifeless heads. The shoot was over before 4:00 PM and we got paid $100 (that's more than what Warner Bros. and Disney pay their extras). The gas and toll (at today's $3.12 /gal prices) unfortunately offset the euphoria. Tolls = $9.00, Gas = $25.00… That nets only $66.00. Might as well be working for Warner Bros. or Disney.

The actors networked and I got the email address of a casting broker whom I had tried to contact two months ago via phone -without much success. Her name is Desiree and I've heard that she gets jobs for background extras on a fairly regular basis (more than once a month). However, she does take 10% of your gross pay for each gig. I sent her a request to put me on her email list to get the process rolling. Got a strange feeling about this one…

In the meantime, my other avocation's headhunters were beginning to call me. It seems that the "real world" jobs were starting to pick up and I might start getting some face-time soon. Hollywood may have to wait for me a bit longer.

ENCHANTED in Times Square

Three days… I spent 3 exhausting days at the center of the universe: Times Square, New York City.

Of course the story line for the tongue-in-cheek fantasy movie, Enchanted, describes this location as the worst possible place in the real-world. And that's exactly where a cartoon-world princess (Amy Adams) is to be banished by the evil queen (Susan Sarandon). She is followed by the handsome prince (James Marsden) and his rotund friend (Anthony Spall), so that they could rescue her and return to the perfect happily-ever-after cartoon-land called Andalasia (aka: the production company working for the Disney money-machine).
But things get complicated… the princess falls in love with a real-world almost-married man (Patrick Dempsey)… and… I guess I'll have to go to the movies to see how the story ends.


Had I not done my research on the IMDB website during the previous night, I would still be in a fog about what my role as a tourist in the background would have signified in the context of the movie's story. This is typical of most shoots -"they keep us in the dark and feed us mushrooms"... or something like that. As I observed during the course of the production, no one on the set was able to give a clear synopsis of what the movie was supposed to be about. And I find that attitude to be the typical level of work-related-IQ for most of the crew I've chatted with in the past. Either they are uncaringly aloof or they're just into "guarding the secret" (so that they won't have to go into a long-winded spiel about the meaning of our purpose each time one of us asks for our "motivation").

The first day was a 6:00 AM call. A chilly, albeit sunny day was spent between the various filth-laden curbs and ominously dangerous crossing-islands created by the intersection of Broadway and 7th Avenue. The food services for the 300 extras was skimpy and lacking any appetizing appearance. Many people thought that the ersatz-egg-salad sandwiches were constructed of some kind of astronaut-food powder. I stuck to eating fruits and cheese… occasionally flushing it down with some grapefruit juice. I figured the citric acid would kill any germs that may have been cultivated while awaiting our anxious fingers to rip open their plastic-enshrined confines. Some of us decided to seek culinary-euphoria at any of the nearby quick-food establishments (Shbarro's Pizza, MickyD's fries, and Starbuck's cafeinated panacea). Standing in the breezy chill while the "prince" was stabbing a New York City bus or prancing through the sea of yellow traffic; we snuk inside the food and hotel establishments between takes, seeking an atmosphere that would return the natural color of our now bluish skin. I had developed a nasty cough and later that week had to be put on antibiotics.

A roving band of FOX5's camera crew invaded our nearby corner and quizzed passersby with some political questions. If you answered it right, you got a FOX5 t-shirt. I couldn't resist!


"State your name and where you're from!"
"Who named the White House… "White House"?…

…and BAM! I won a t-shirt (which immediately contributed a degree of Fahrenheit to my body's low core temperature). I love America. You just have to wish for stuff and there it is. I was warm for the rest of the day.

The second day was warmer but the filming wasn't progressing with any great success and some of us (150 strong) were given a chance to come back for a third (and final) day to help complete the necessary background effects. Now that my unemployment benefits were exhausted, the extra work came in handy. Occasionally we were taken back to the holding area where the friendly banter created some interesting verbal exchanges and autobiographical sketches of those in our immediate circle of extras. When the chatter wound down, I took out my playing cards and taught the group how to play "I DOUBT YOU!". This was a huge success as we all tried to bluff our way to a win. One of the beginners won… Naturally!

Soon we were back on sin-city's streets, guided by our fearless handlers and placed into position. While there, any number of foreign tourists would stop and snap off a few digital pictures… and also try to sneak into our group. This was not a good choice on their part because our fearless production assistants immediately recognized their colorful garb (we were all told to dress in muted and drab colors) and guided them politely (yet firmly) away from our area. This "tourist invasion" was unceasing throughout the day and the procedure would be repeated countless times during the course of the shoot. I still don't know how the production crew thought they could control a NYC crowd in Times Square without the help of the riot-police or at least some tape. No-my-yob. I took it all in with smiles. After all, here I was standing in the middle of Times Square . A sense of tranquillity waved through me as I looked across at George M. Cohan's statue and thought: "I finally made it to where I needed to be... crossroads of the fantasy and the real-world at large.".

(EPILOGUE: The final release of the film showed me in 3 areas: 1 behind Timothy Spall, when he appears out of the manhole, another when the prince stabs the bus and has a confrontation with the bus driveress, and a third when the busdriveress is in panic mode -trying to get the chipmonk off her body... see me at the red arrows below).

The Reconstruction of JANE FONDA

My wife loves to read biographies - amongst which she's been reading "My Life, So Far" by Jane Fonda. So when she heard about her book-signing appearance at the Union Square Barnes & Noble... well, "we just had to be there"!

B&N had a part of their 4th floor set up for the occasion and issued "red wrist-bands" for the "lucky" first ones to arrive. This entitled us to a seat near the front -wherein we sat for the better part of an hour and a half, awaiting Lady Jane. The people of Union Square have been known to be, ummm, "somewhat politically eccentric" (that's about as understated as I can make it). As an example, the guy sitting in front of us had his entire newspaper clipping-collection in his handy-dady duffelbag (you never know when one might have to site some "reliable" material). He and the two guys sitting around him were debating the downward spiral of WBAI's popularity since the radio station's anti-semitic rhetoric became more rabid and was denounced by Garry Null. The guy behind us was muttering politically incorrect sounds to himself (people should only do that with a fake cellphone attached to their ears). And then a well-dressed drunk sat near us, professing to the man next to him that he was psychic. This immediately started an exchange about "Oh...do you believe in intelligent life on other planets?". And at that point, Jane Fonda walked in with a couple of escorts.


The stage had two large pictures of litterary sybolism on either side of the signing desk. Jane walked passed the one with Gulliver starting to wake up as the Liliputians were trying to tie him down. When the host introduced her, she walked over to the microphoned podium and began to comment on the inspiration of her book. She was now in front of a large picture of Moby Dick with it's maw open. As the Q&A began between the audience and her, I was tempted to ask her opinion about the irony of her standing there, being dressed in white and juxtaposed against Ahab's favorite obsession. But I held my tongue and took in the show.


Her responses were interesting. She was angry at Hillary Clinton for "not being braver" but conceeded that there was something imperfect about every politician. She denounced the fake photos with John Kery... and the historical revisionism regarding the "truth" of Viet Nam. One guy from the audience was thinking of leaving the US because of his "disappointment"... she urged that "we need to stay here and fight for what we believe in". And then a clergyman stood to ask her a question:

"You seem to have come to spirituality late in life... how do you see that impacting your '3rd Act'?"

Her response was a bit comical but still poignant: "I come too late in everything. But when I come it's a 100%." She went on to say that the "empty place" in some peoples' lives gets filled with... addictions (she was always trying to please people -at the cost of her own lack of development, leaving her as someone who had no confidence in herself during her youth)... and she mentioned that she is presently attending school as a divinity student. Her perspective from the days of Barbarella have been redefined and now she is enjoying her older life... her 3rd Act. She also confided that the only thing missing is "intimacy" -sex was easy, but a meaningful, loving relationship is something that she is still looking for.


Then we all lined up and got the book signed and the pictures taken and the experience filed away under the notation of Act 2, Scene 99.

CASH in the Ring Of Fire

It was a pretty good musical... accompanied by some very innovative electronic scenery.

We craned our necks to see stage-right situated beneath our protruding box seats, but it was worth the effort. Especially since the singers and the musicians were terrific. The part of Johnny Cash was played in four different ways by four different actors at different times of his life... which in this depiction was mostly set around his songs. And that was OK with me and the friends we went with... but it was the simple stageset in the background that was the most magical of all. In fact, they were "TV sets". Literally!
3 huge TV's were being manipulated both physically and image-wise as the backdrop changed from countryside to Main Street to Bar scene (complete with well timed "broken bottles falling" as the actors bumped into it). Very cleverly done. It certainly kept my attention riveted to see how they would arrange them next.

I've only been on stage occasionally during my distant "yut(h)". Once as a chorus singer during 3rd grade, then playing a Spaniard dignitary from South America in the 4th grade... and recently, I actually won a bottle of champagne while participating in silly stuff in front of a packed audience at a hotel in Eilat. But otherwise, I haven't really pursued participation in theatrics... it's too repetitious. Doing the same act, night-after-night? Not for me. But I do like watching a live performance... good, bad or otherwise, and consequently I must have seen a hundred or more plays in the past (thanks to the low rates offered by TDF).

With the show over, it was off to nearby Cafe La Madelaine to discuss our impressions while dining on French food and drinking some red wine... and reflecting on how lucky we are to be able to do this every now and then.

The pits

What a piss-hole it is behind the Port Authority... beneath the bus-overpass ramp on 9th Avenue!

As I was treking through this area from 34th Street to 47th Street, to get one of my meager showbiz paychecks, I had suddenly dropped my usual apathetic armor for a moment and realized the world I was now smack in the middle of. Homeless men with puke on their clothes and barely-filled liquor bottles sticking out of their jacket pockets were leaning toward the dark end of a dilapidated garbage alley. One hand propping themselves up while the other was hidden from view in front of their pants, leaving the barricading chainlink fences with dripping urine onto the sidewalk. A block later there’s a cornerstore-pantry advertising 99cent pizza… one shady customer biting into it’s spongelike crust as his nose drips snot onto the “savory” goo passing for food at this 9^th Avenue locale of the wretched refuse. Most subway stops also have "the aroma" and it’s not much different on the upper west side either. As I walked past Zabar’s delicatessen the other day, on my way to an early morning movieshoot, I saw homeless people leaning on the multicolored freebie-newspaper dispenser stands and sleeping standing-up. Their clothes wreaking of urine, their skin bruised and bloodied from countless fights and falls, while uninvolved shopkeepers hosed down the sidewalk around them… only to spread the stench of the concentrated urine left behind by the nameless wraiths we call bums. I can not help them -though I wish I could. But I can’t pass them by without thinking that I could soon end up like one of them. And considered how it would all start?

Lately, I feel like it's already started... the depression of the downward spiral.

It begins when you start to turn down unpaid gigs. And before you know it, other opportunities suddenly evaporate as well. The phone falls silent; the emails stop coming. It appears as though a kind of balancing act was constantly making karmic adjustments to keep your ego in check (just in case you might drift toward thinking that you're better than anyone else).

I declined an audition for a lawyer part in a Hofstra student film. The reason being was that a part-time job had come along with a web-design company that I decided to take, in order to stay in touch with some semblance of my former reality. In fact this position came about just after I had agreed to take on a crude web-design assignment for one of my relatives. Guess I put some kind of energy into momentum that had vortexed me toward a new direction. The “web-job” had a lot of elements I’d always dreamt of: A venue to express my creativity through some form of designing art while still being connected to the technology I had been trained to work with… along with a short drive to work and short hours... there's minimum pressure (and minimum wage). Alas no real income but plenty of future possibilities… and the possibility of eventual independence.

Unfortunately, my showbiz “career” was immediately affected. I had missed an important (and well paid… $3000+) “farmer modeling role” because I had kept my cell phone on “mute” as a result of not wanting any interference during my web-design day-gig. Although I returned the call within 2 hours, the part was given to someone else. Also, I had to rescind my availability as a volunteer for the Tribeca Film Festival. And soon after, a 2-day weekend shoot was cancelled because the director’s camera parts were missing and her set-design was destroyed!?! Ironicly, the web-job ended prematurely as well (due to the fallout from the latest legal decisions against Microsoft). It would seem that the 2 worlds can not coexist without immediate complications of one or the other -or both at the same time.

All this has made me reticent to take on anymore unpaid showbiz gigs. As a result, I’m now officially wearing Gurdjieff’s "galoshes" and attempting to ride 2 horses with one ass!

TRAVELER at the Waldorf-Astoria

Another 7:AM call... for the Warner Brothers/ABC-TV pilot called "Traveler". But luckily it was to be in NYC at the famous Waldorf-Astoria. Rene, the Sylvia Fay(e) rep had led me to believe that we would be filming in the lobby.

No.

It was outside. It was the first day of Spring. It was snowing!!!
And since we had to be background extras in business suits, we froze our nuggies OFF... and so did the principals (one of whom was Logan Marshall-Green) from the TV series, "The OC".

But I have to say, that the film crew, headed by the director David Nutter,

was a tenacious bunch and kept us working almost from the time we arrived to the time we finished at 3:PM. Yes, lunch was served but only after the SAG guys had their fill. This class-distinction is still not sitting well with me. One of the women, with whom I had to walk with, told about her experience on a set with Nicole Kidman, who was very gracious and invited the extras to eat from the SAG-side. She also mentioned that Jimmy Falon was one of the friendliest person since he mingled and chatted with the extras on a regular basis during his movies. Robert DeNero also has a good rep among the extras as being the best food provider. Apparently he caters from the best places and makes sure the extras eat well. I still feel there should be a revolution of sorts to keep everyone on an even food-keel during the filming. I'm neither a socialist or a communist but I do believe in equality when it comes to food. This Hollywoodier-than-thou caste-system has got to go.

A sober reminder of my relationship to this industry came when we were being herded from our holding area at St. Bartholemew's to temporarily line up against it's walls prior to heading over to the Waldorf... our handler kept telling us to "Stay against the wall and let the 'real people' pass by!". It "brought me back" to thinking about my first post on this blog -pertaining to the "phantom zone" existence in which I was... or rather, was not.

EPILOGUE: That's me as a hotel patron passing by the boys as they rush into the Waldorf in the 1st episode.

August Rush in March

Silvia Fay's rep, Ali, gave me a call last night with a "check-in-number" and the "call-in line" to get the rest of the details for the Newark shoot. It was to be 7:AM!!! Yiykes... I'd have to wake up at 4:30 AM to drive there in time. Fully well knowing that I'd probably be waiting hours prior to being called on to the set and lamenting my obsessiveness to be punctiual. Of course, I was right. But Ali had told me that the movie had Robin Williams and Kerri Russell in it -and I really wanted to see those guys. So I relented and decided to do the "time".

I drove to the NJ site and discovered that we, extras, were not allowed to take advantage of the holding area's (Robert Treat Hotel) free parking space which I had been counting on. We'd have to use the public parking building across the street ($15... caching!), the total toll turned out to be $17.50... so that's $32.50 for the honor of being in a Robin Williams film! Compensation: 94.50 + 7.50 (had to haggle for it) = $102.00. So I guess I would go with it (even though it will get me to lose $100.00 from my next week's unemployment check). Sacrifices I make for "my art"... and so did a few hudred other extras!

The holding room was the Victoria Room in the Robert Treat Hotel across the street from NJ PAC (the Newark equivalent of Lincoln Center), where the filming was taking place. We all checked in, got our vouchers filled out and settled down for a 7 hour wait. Lots of chatting, reading, iPod playing, and other innovative time wasters were being conducted at each of the tables in the large dining-room-type set up. But none of them were as whacky as our table. We had Keren -the "almost violin player"!

Her talkative exhuberance was inexhaustable. It seems she forgot to "take her meds today"! The consequences of which allowed us to observe a relentless yaking for hours on end. It started with her being picked to portray a "real violin player". Apparently, when she was taken by the PA's to the filming site, the audition didn't work out and she was replaced by a "fake violin player" -Carl, the tuxedo guy! This started an endless lambasement of poor Carl and it didn't stop until he good-naturedly brought over his "just-for-show" $38 violin and Karen made an attempt to play it. Although she had studied violin at a younger age, she was unable to bring forth any sounds that would even remotely resemble violin playing. All that, after her rantings about being trained by Izhak Pearlman and desciples of Yasha Heifitz. Eventually, her wind dissipated and we were conversing on the "sane plane" (for about 10 minutes). And it was at that point we were requested to accompany our handlers to the filming site across the street.

Our purpose was simple: look like upperclass patrons of the theater while applauding the cello-playing virtuoso embodied by the role of Kerri Russell. We, the audience, would be moved around the huge theater several times for special effects later to be provided on a blue screen. As a result, a few hundred patrons will appear to be a few thousand in the CG-editing room. Kerri Russell was the only star in this scene and it was interesting to observe her acting... very minimalist (IMHO). Still, it was a bit of a charge to see her. And that 's what this whole ordeal was really about for most of us. To see a star... whether she twinkles or not.

While moving around the theater, we had different seating partners and numerous sound-byte introductions. I asked the guy next to me why he had chosen to do this work. He explained that although he was 33 years old, he had a very high-pressure job and had suffered an increase in his heart beat (160 per minute) and some liver problems as well. It took the doctors 22 hours to get his heart back to normal and now he was ordered to stay away from tension-causing situations. Another fellow was a high-level executive, who left his lucrative workplace because it was causing him to miss out on his family life. Now he was involved with locating antiques (hence allowing him a personal pleasure of pursuing historical artifacts) and selling them on E-bay. As we relocated again and again -I wound up next to a very happy woman who had been miserable as a teacher for 40 years and now she was "pursuing her dreams" by being in movies. Still another person whom I rubbed elbows with, admitted that this background-extras job had too much waiting associated with it, and she would never do it again! I was still wondering why I was doing it... It certainly wasn't because of the money. And how long before I too, would lose the magic of the diversionary "pixie dust"?

I suppose my introspective response would be that the "industry of illusion" has ironicly given me a sense of purpose -if only for an undetermined short time.

Just God and me

She descends effortlessly through the smokey clouds (of dry ice) and hands me (a business-suited politico type), the golden egg, with which I play and then, in turn, hand it over to a soldier who manages to break it -whereupon the gooey mess is seen dripping all over the map of the world... and yada, yada, yada. So now I'm doing politics and mixing it with religion.

Well, I liked the idea that I'd be playing a "support role" to God, so I stuck around for the grueling seven hour wait for the scenery to be prepared. It seems that no one ever prepares their set on time but the "talent" has to be on site and availble -no matter what! The crew was nice and I got to chat with Bobby (aka "God"), an Indian girl whose family hails from British Guiana in South America. She was 20-ish, shapely albeit with a diminutive build and a very calm demeanor. Nonetheless, she had broken away from her parents' influence and decided to have "fun" in the fantasy world that we were presently filming. (There's something "Pinnoccioan" about her story and I was wondering what my role here really was. )

In my mind, I couldn't escape the invevitable effect of my superimposing her deific role upon her mortal personality. And it was wreaking havoc with my psyche. Here I was, conversing with someone who has "somehow" been selected to play "God"... and I'd be "Her" co-star! Hmmm, so this is what "Joan of Arcadia" must have felt like.

Ironic, because just a few days ago I had whimsicly considered applying for a "reality show" wherein you had to submit an idea for starting a new religion. I had developed this whole idea about the religion of the ORB (Thanks again Woody!)... and the leader would be the "subORB"... the congregation would meet in a circle and each follower would ... well, never mind. Needless to say, I never submitted anything. But it was fun thinking about it. The stipend offered was to be $5000 and you would have a film crew follow you around and witness how succesfull you would be in recruiting some "followers". And today, here I was, face to face with "God". An omen for sure! (As in: "Oh man... don't you be messin' with my turf!")

All in all, a very inspiring shoot.

An INDUSTRIAL gig

I got the call while chatting with some artists at the NY Art Show in the Javits Center -I suppose that being there, was an indication of sorts, given the "industrial" nature of the artworks being exhibited. Giclee… phooey!
Oh well, at least I got to pose with MM.


Call time for the Sunday shoot was 9:AM at the Chelsea Market on 9th Avenue and 15th Street. It's a renovated old structure that has become a combination office space and shopping mall. A welcome "sheeky-trendy" spot for Chelsea's west-side financial infusion.

Heading for the second bank of elevators, I heard some steps clicking behind me through the deserted early morning corridors of the pealing brick walled mall. I held the door and was pleasantly surprised by a young woman whose whispery enunciations of gratitude upon her entrance to the elevator recrated a Marilyn Monroe-type of mystique (perhaps a leftover flashback from yesterday). I guessed at her destination being the same as mine -to which she confessed… and a sense of "mutual functionality" between two strangers had now been established (as opposed to just being "who's this creep in the elevator with me").

We were greeted by our Production Manager in the 6th floor offices of NY1/Time Warner, who immediately provided for a few introductions of the people we'd be working with and ushered us to our holding area: a company-lounge with plenty of space, breakfast food and a couple of "lounging extras". After being wardrobed and madeup… we were brought back to holding and began to consume the bagel and cream-cheese delicacies. The rest of the floor was a modern-designed wide office space complete with a news-caster's stage and lots of electronic editing rooms. I was impressed.

Sean was our director and he called me and a few others for an office scenario discussion. He described four scenes: Finance, HR, Marketing and Executive. As it turned out I got to be in 3 out of 4. During the first scenario, I was standing near the ad-client's copy machine (RICOH), pressing a button, grabbing a sheet of paper and begining a succession of mobile chain-reactive office interactions. While the crew was setting up, I was fooling around with the copy machine and kept screwing it up. Lights were flashing and alarms were beeping!? This activity did not go unnoticed by the intrepid film crew and after a few takes, I was told to change places with a tall, skinny, young German-accented guy by the name of Gabriel. I was placed into a "safe cubicle" where my "paper-interactions" would be more benign -albeit still in the frame shots. The film crew kept bumping their camera-dolly into the desks as they rolled back and forth to get the right shot. The dolly was being pushed and pulled by an ADP whose aim wasn't always within the tolerance levels of the narrow office aisle. As it turned out, sitting in the cube was the best deal since the bumpy shots took 2 hours to straighten out. With all the advanced camera equipment around, I couldn't understand why they didn't use the customary rails. Wow… I realized I was getting smart… I'd better shut up and just enjoy the show. The second scene went better (the aisles were wider)!

The final scene of the day was the Executive meeting room. For those who only got to be in this scene, the waiting time in the lounge was close to 8 hours. At least the TV in the lounge room and the munchies would keep them semi-conscious. Otherwise it's a brutal ordeal -especially if you're not loquacious, sleepy or don't know how to meditate. I kept conversing with my elevator buddy and her attractive friends. One of them kept complaining that whenever she got hungry, she'd have an anxiety attack. I made sure to keep some candy in my pocket -just in case she decided to go cannibalistic. Gabe came over and we hit off a friendship when he found out that I was Hungarian: it's that "European thang"! Eventually, as we spoke, I found myself accenting my own English in perfect Zelig-like style. (Thank you Woody Allen, for putting that neurosis in my psyche.)

We, the "executives" were now all in suits and ushered into the modern boardroom for a meeting-scene. The "CEO" would walk from the copy machine with new favorable info and distribute it to us at the table, where "smiles of approval" would abound. Sounds simple… BUT… by 8:PM we were all getting "loopy" and the cross-banter was making all of us giggle… until we finally got the scene down pat and it was a WRAP. Haleluyah!!! Time to get paid our 100 bucks.

The kicker: we had to fill out W-9 forms...
Translation: paid by check within… a month…two at the most!? ...and of course, there would be the dreaded tax-deduction! A typical industry tactic that reduces your real income. Even worse, my unempoyment check got docked $100 for my "working" one day. That just inspired me to expound a few immature expletives: Shnitzelgrooben and BASZ MEG!

CUT-oh!

This was a real “Lost in Translation” experience. I was told to go to 77 Bleeker Street for the Japanese TV-ASAHI documentary about MADONNA! The address was easy to find –problem was that there was no crew there. After a couple of phone calls and some frantic door-to-door searches, it turned out to be a basement bar, next to a café near the corner of Greenwich Village's Broadway. Went downstairs and opened the heavy doors into a dark, cozy, warm and confusing scene of young people in various stages of costume changes, makeup and spinning dance steps. The crew was there and from what I gathered, were mainly conversant solely in Japanese. As I approached one of them to ask for instructions, he asked my name and after telling it to him he began to call me “Russ”. Wrong-O! When I corrected him, he kept repeating the same name “Russ”. OK?... I figured it was the confusion of pronouncement problems that Japanese people have between the “L” and “R” –the old “rots of ruck” stereotyping. I was told by the oriental agent, who went by the name of Henry, to settle in somewhere -so I found a corner on the cushioned periphery of the lounge and changed into my silk shirt per instructions for the 70's/80's period wardrobe. As it turned out it was the perfect outfit because the scene was to depict the “early years” of young Madonna as she hung out in various dance bars. I began watching the dancing dudes do their fancy steps with “added verve” when I suddenly realized what kind of bar-scene was being shot as the director’s heavy accented instructions were enunciated…

“GAY BAR SCENE!”

One of the PA’s was asked to round up the guys. She started saying, “We need gays at the bar…” When no one responded she figured she had made the wrong pronouncements so she started requesting “ … we need the homos…”. One of her asian friends started to giggle and waved her back for a little western-PC consultation.

In those days, Madonna was picking up gay guys to dance with. The actress depicting Madonna was a cute blonde, overly made up in rouge and frizzed-out hair. She played her part with great exuberance which was demonstrated by a slight wardrobe malfunction as her “boobies” (her words) popped out of her dress. Prior to each take there would be some emotive Japanese instructions from Hiro, the director, which was followed by the english interpretation from Mariko –our female interface to the mysterious whirlwind methods of Japanese TV/movie making. At the end of each take, the Japanese DP would shout “CUT-oh!”. And Mariko would translate for the rest of us: "CUT!"

My part in all this was background bar-fly and way-background-dancer. When the crew couldn’t remember my name, they would call me the “older guy”. Since I wasn’t exactly very active in any of the scenes, I figured that I’d just fade out with the rest of the crowd as we wrapped up the bar scene and got ready to go home. BUT noooooooo! Henry, the director asked me if I could stay another two hours to do one more scene uptown?! Given the sexual predilection of the existing atmosphere, I began to stutter. Uh… w-w-hat was the scene? H-h-ow far uptown?? (Why me?)

"We make you judge”! (Oh good… my “older guy” status had paid off. I'd be doing a "featured role".) And as the gay guys left, it was me and the girls and one other guy packed into the movie van, zipping along the FDR drive chatting about acting schools, method, Meisner, Stanislavski, Brad Pitt, Nicolas Cage, Dustin Hoffman and having a great pseudo-thespian time. Mariko was ordering “lunch” for us from a fancy Japanese restaurant. We arrived at a church (what else is new) near 1st Avenue and 88th Street, where we snuck quietly in the back, past the main sanctuary, where some services were being conducted. (I realized on my subway ride home later, from looking at the darkened foreheads of the passengers, that it was Ash Wednesday .) We went down some winding stairways, up a rickety old elevator to the 3rd floor and opened an aging door to a dilapidated gym. Aging... dilapidated... I knew I was in the right place.

The scene was Madonna’s high school days – she was doing cheerleading. But there was one thing missing:

“MAKEUP-oh!”


Madonna needed to have “arm-pit hair”. This was a real scream. The ticklish application kept her laughing in stitches while the rest of us were rolling on the floor every time she raised her “cheer-leading arms”. Then came the “judges scene”… just as "lunch" had arrived at 9:PM. A stack of warm goodies (a.k.a. motivation) were waiting for us on the table across the gym while we, the 2 judges, were seated as Madonna pleaded with us to let her in to dancing school. My role was to tic-toc my index finger and say “Not this time!”… then wave her to leave.

They shot the scene from every inanely significant angle and finally kiai-ed the word we were all waiting for -so we could eat…

“CUT-oh!”

We grabbed our dishes and dug in. Very tasty, very good… but the crew was not eating!?
They were packing franticly. And inside of a couple of minutes we were asked to leave (apparently they only rented the space for a short time and evacuating it was of paramount import). Damn! I had to rush eating (hate that) and didn’t get the chance to finish the rice. I scrambled, packed up my stuff and felt the rush of freezing weather around me as I exited the house of peace all by myself, carrying the unfinished dish of rice. No ride was offered to the railroad… in fact they had all evaporated like ninjas… the job was done. It was back to Japan for them because, as I found out – it would air this Saturday! Wow… these guys are fast. Perhaps too fast, because they never asked us to sign any wavers. I guess it's not needed in Japan? Visions of vast amounts of Japanese yens for residuals went through my dreamscape... as I foresaw the eventual favorable outcome of an international law suit: "RUSS vs. TV-ASAHI" for unauthorized use of my image. As it turned out, eventually the whole documentary was put on YOUTUBE.com and I got paid fifty bucks from Henry. ( Flashback to 1991: I was at a tech-fair in my former job, where a couple of celbrity look-alikes were posing... one of them was Madonna-con-mia.)


During my walk to the Lexington Avenue subway station, all I could think about was plotting out how I could find a place to sit and enjoy the rice. But as my five block walk-of-obsession progressed, I realized how the cold weather would affect it and how the taste and consistency would turn it into an unappetizing clump… but I still wanted it and began scheming about how I’d be eating it on the train… and then a kind of zen moment pervaded my primal instincts for the gluttonous goal of my culinary satisfaction… and I realized that I ‘wanted it way too much”… and that there was something wrong in that. So I stopped at the nearest trash can –and let it go.

I had found my own translation and solved the koan of “CUT-oh”.