bye bye stardom

You want to hear a cliche? Awww, c'mon - of course you do. What else is there than cliche, but silence? So here is yet another cliche: Hollywood is a meat market that will grind you up and spit you out and step on you.

I just thought I should explain why I quit the movie/tv industry. It really wasn't that, at all, though. I was actually having fun, allowing myself to get sucked into a world where you get paid just for standing around looking cool. I had promoted myself to A-List extra and had begun to spend time on set joking around, drawing attention to myself. When myself and a clump of extras were herded onto the set of the show Psych by our "handler", for instance, I hollered out loud enough for everyone to hear "OK, EVERYBODY, PAY ATTENTION! THE TALENT HAS ARRIVED!"

You have to understand that it's a no-no for background people to presume to rise up out of the background. Seen and not heard, y'know. But Psych is a comedy, so it seemed the right thing to do. Because yes, I am that shallow, and plus I didn't care because it was the last extraing I was going to be doing before heading back out to the bush for the summer.

That's right. Tomorrow I am hopping on my motorcycle with a duffel bag on my back full of planting and camping gear and riding over the Rockies to Alberta. I might even make it (my motorcycle is 25 years old and I am not a mechanic). Before I go, though, I thought I'd share one last tale from the world of "atmospheric background performing".

It is tempting to tell you all about how I met Lou Diamond Phillips and how we chatted deeply and meaningfully about the weather and about "the peoti scene in Young Guns", but that would betray the true nature of extraing. It's mostly just about sitting around, talking to the other extras.

OK, so the following adventure occurred on the set of Eureka, a TV show set in a small, government-built town in the U.S. populated entirely by certified geniuses, who invent nifty things like hoverboards and clever new ways to kill other people. The scene was a picnic on Main Street in the middle of summer, so even though the temperature was actually hovering just above freezing, we had to walk around in shorts and t-shirts for the shot, which was basically a whole bunch of different takes of picknickers hanging out in anticipation of an eclipse.

Now, the level of direction you receive from set to set as an extra varies greatly. In a pawn shop scene for the show Kyle XY, for instance, I was the only extra in the store, so the director went so far as to give me my "motivation" for the scene (you've just bought this guitar and you're itching to get home and play it) and to loudly dedicate the first rehearsal to me. This was all a joke, of course, since I was just doing a camera wipe, where you walk a couple feet in front of the camera, making a quick blur that breaks up the action.

On Eureka, however, I was given more general guidelines, like "just start over there and at some point end up over here". This left a lot to my discretion. So while I huddled shivering in my coat at the edge of the shot waiting for someone to shout the obligatory "CAMERA'S UP! SOUNDSPEED! ROLLING! BACKGROUND! ACTION!", I decided to go over and strike up a conversation with a mammoth of a man I'd been admiring (really, there isn't any other word) for most of the morning.

This guy was a tall blond Aryan guy who actually looked a lot like Brad Pitt. You could probably have fit two Brad Pitts into him, though. I mean, this man was a beast, a real monolith of a man. I had actually overheard a couple girl extras approach him, giggling, and ask to hang off his biceps. Still, he had on a perma-smile and looked to be a pleasant enough chap, so I sauntered his way. Now, normally you aren't allowed to make a peep on set. The microphones are very sensitive (it's surprising how quietly the actors say their lines) and so you have to mime and mouth your way through the scene. Still, it helps the authenticity if you're actually faking a real conversation, so you either read lips or, when you are far enough from the microphone to get away with it, whisper.

So here is the scene:

Eureka Background, Scene 1, Take One.

Actors:

Joshua Barkey: a diminutive (read, 140 lb wuss). Looks about 18 years old. A joker. Wears a blue striped shirt, khaki shorts and sandals.

The Beast: 300lbs of striated muscle straining to escape a t-shirt and jeans. He is handsome (in an "I can't lower my arms to my sides kind of way") and has a number of tattoos that somehow don't offset the disarming smile on his face.

Admiring Blond One: part of the scenery.

The Scene:

It is a bright summer day in the town of Eureka. Josh the Genius walks up to the Beast (also a genius), who is lounging on a reclining lawn chair surrounded by a small gaggle of admirers. They speak entirely in whispers.

Josh: Hey, man! I haven't seen you in forever!

Beast: No, way, it's you!

Josh: Yeah, man! Crazy running into you here! What's it been - like five, ten, fifteen minutes since we've seen each other (he refers, of course, to the craft services buffet back in extras holding).

Beast: No, dude, I think it's been more like years! Like five, ten, fifteen years!

Josh: Oh, yeah. Right. Fifteen years. What was it, back in third grade that we went to school together?

Beast: Oh, yeah. Man, that was a long time ago, I barely even recognized you.

Josh: Well, we've both changed a bit. I used to be a lot bigger than you back then.

(The Beast pauses. Starts. Almost reacts - but manages to pull himself together)

Beast: Oh, yeah...

Josh: Yeah, remember? I used to beat you up all the time in the lunch room. Ah, the good old days, eh?

(At this point, Admiring Blonde One, who has been captivatedly following the conversation, breaks in)

Admiring Blonde: Are you serious? Do you guys know each other? Are you for real? You've gotta be kidding me?!?

The Beast, turning to the Blonde: Um, it's called acting. We're actors. We're serious actors here, trying to do some serious acting. Maybe you could try it some time.

The Beast grins, widely. Josh and the Beast chuckle together, as if sharing some private joke. "CUT" yells the director. Exeunt.

_ _ _

And that's it. The end of the silliness. The end of Hollywood. Back to the real world of bending over and working for the Man.