Hello, one and all:
The Cousins household is one step closer to freedom from its recent technological purgatory, with the purchase of a brand-spanking-new desktop computer. Acting in a temporary capacity as the voice of reason, I recommended that they let the experts at the store set up the new system, rather than accepting Sparky’s gracious but somewhat marrow-chilling offer to create, and I paraphrase, “something that could grab the Space Shuttle by remote control and make it do loop-the-loops around Jupiter” from materiel he fished out of the recycling bins behind a few local apartment buildings. (The damage to property in the vicinity caused by the peregrinations of CyberSparky, though thankfully untraceable thus far, is already in a monetary range just this side of astronomical.) Until Mr. and Mrs. Cousins take possession of the new computer in the middle of this week, here’s a transcription I made of some thoughts the ‘Mr.’ of the pair made to me concerning one of his many paid part-time avocations.
Uncle Fun
You may or may not already know that, from time to time, I take on a little extra work doing a little extra work. By that, I mean that I accept odd jobs as what is euphemistically known in the film and television industry as a ‘background performer’. This involves a lot of staying in the background, and very little in the way of actual performing. Mostly, what it involves is finding ways to keep from going absolutely, certifiably stir-crazy while waiting in a holding area for them to use you. The hours (and they will be hours) between the time you sign in with a production assistant and the time they actually shepherd you towards the set can make an eternity slowly turning on a spit in Hell seem like a peppy, fun-filled time unless you find some way to occupy your mind. Usually, catching up on a backlog of course reading or scratching out a draft of an upcoming assignment does it for me, but every now and then, I feel the need to let my thoughts wander as far as possible away from a here and now that’s a lot more ‘here’ and a lot more ‘now’ than anyone who hasn’t committed a major felony ought to experience. Yesterday was one of those times. While on remand in the tombs of Extras Holding, I asked myself some searching questions about the nature of Truth. Specifically, I asked myself, “What, above all else, do I know to be true about working as a film and TV extra?” The list I came up with is certainly not exhaustive, nor is it absolute. These things, however, I do know from personal experience to be true:
1. If you’re early for your set call, they won’t need you until much, much later.
2. If you’re late, they’ll need you right away.
3. You will need a haircut.
This will happen whether or not you’ve just had your hair cut. It will also happen no matter how recently you’ve done work on the same project. I have been subjected to multiple re-shearings during a single 36-hour period, while playing the same background role, each time having a different style held in place by ‘hair product’ inflicted on my follicles, apparently for the sole purpose of making the camera, lighting and sound crews fall on the floor laughing at the mere sight of me. Yesterday’s enforced depilation transformed the pleasant, Scrooge McDuck-like flanges of curl that habitually pop up around my ears into something more appropriate for the Sub-Mariner.
4. Whatever pants you bring as wardrobe, the wardrobe department will like the ones you’re wearing better.
Yesterday was no exception. My grubby Haggar corduroys were deemed more appropriate business apparel than several pairs of pants from three-piece suits, which didn’t even rate a second look.
5. At least one of your fellow extras will be a jailhouse lawyer.
This august individual will loudly offer opinions, at length if you’re lucky, and non-stop if you aren’t, all of which can be grouped under at least one of the following three headings: 1) how circumstances other than sheer lack of talent have prevented them from becoming the next Laurence Olivier or Katharine Hepburn; 2) How the entire film industry could be improved, from top to bottom, by tomorrow; 3) Why Caddyshack, Meatballs, or any movie in the Naked Gun trilogy represents the pinnacle of cinematic art and artistry.
6. If the casting agent says that the director asked for you specifically, you will sit around all day, sign for your pay and be sent home, without ever appearing on camera.
This one never fails.
I don’t mean to sound like I’m complaining (I never do about anything, but no-one ever buys that story). I look upon each of these gigs as a kind of paid vacation. It’s like going on a package tour: you see about as much of genuine interest, and you get to know enough about a group of people to know that you don’t want to know any more in particular about any of them. The best part is that you get to spend the night at home, in your own bed, safe in the knowledge that your health insurance will take care of anything that happens to you as a result of the catered on-set meals.
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