You’ve been sitting there for what seems like forever. "Why did they want me here at 5am? It's already 2pm." you think to yourself. Something must be wrong. You wonder “Did they forget about me?" A PA walks by and says the line that has been said on a million sets before: “Hurry up and wait.”
Hilarious.
The studio world around you is a buzz with movement. It's the land of make believe and it is a beehive of activity. You see grips and lighting guys running around as they light the set for the next shot. Guys on ladders, hanging off dolly lifts, people carrying all sorts of GAK (general term for film gear), all of it vital for the shot. You're watching a film crew doing what they do best....... but today they seem more like tired and angry deck hands on a pirate ship. Outside of the crew, there's the clients. They are exactly as one would imagine: Starbucks drinking, well dressed artist types with a clear distinction between them and the swashbuckling GAK carriers. The clients sit far off in their little client area, near crafty, huddled around their tiny playback screen. Story boards in hand, they discuss every little detail into infinity. They are flanked by a team of creative and marketing specialists doing more of the same.
Next, you spot the director; the captain of this make believe making ship. Sitting quietly in his chair, headphones on, he is deep in thought knowing all of this is sitting on his shoulders. His general on set is his 1st assistant AD and she's currently telling everyone “WE GOTTA GO!!!”
You think back.
Getting here wasn’t easy. Your agent messaged you that you have a casting. You showed up excited only to see a hundred other guys who looked just like you. Perfect.
You sat there in the casting waiting room listening to each guy deliver the same lines, one at a time, waiting for your turn. Your eager enthusiasm depreciating by the second. Finally they called your name: “Number#224?” You went into the black hole that is the casting room, did who knows what and left, only to then do your best take in the parking lot while sitting in your car.
You always nail it in the car.
A week or so later you got the call back against half a dozen guys. That time you think you may have done your perfect parking lot take in the actual casting room. A big plus. Then days later, the second call back, only this time against 2 or 3 actors. At that point, you really wanted the job, had already spent the money in your head and had grown to secretly hate the other men in the room. Just look at number 225. Who does he think he's kidding? Like a lamb to the slaughter. No chance he-
“Number 224?”
The black hole summons.
After that, came the waiting.
God you HATE the waiting.
The next day was spent waiting for the call from your agent. You phone sat in silence. Staring at you. Mocking you. Nothing.
Check? Was it on silent? Did I miss a text? No....still nothing.
Damn you #225. You and your perfect cheekbones.
What seemed like eons later, the phone came alive and the call ID said “AGENT". You knew It could only be one of two things. Usually, it’s the “Bad news mate, you’ve been released from the option” call. Better luck next time.
But not this time my friend. This time you booked it.
Next up you found yourself at the fitting. This is where they decided what you will wear for the shoot. After too many hours gone by and more dress-up parties than the Oscars, they still came up with nothing because for some reason the stylist pulled all XL size clothes for you.
Good thing you wrote on three separate casting sheets that you are a medium.
Good thing.
So they had you come in for a new fitting.
This time the clothes were a large and they brought pins to “synch" everything up tight on the day.
A well-oiled machine.
Then if you’re lucky, the director wants to do a rehearsal before the shoot day. You met and went over every little detail, planning it all meticulously knowing in all likelihood you would throw it all away once on set. Regardless, it was a good chance to meet the director one-on-one and get to know his style. He seemed nice. After the rehearsal you were pumped. You felt like a true actor. You couldn't wait to get to set. The night before shooting finally came. You got to bed early so you could hurry up and not sleep. As you lay there, your mind played back a million scenarios of the next day. Most ending with an eventual Oscar speech. You closed your eyes for a second only to hear the alarm laughing at you as it screeches its inhuman 4am wail.
"Maybe I could call in sick?" you thought.
“They're ready for you,” he says. You look up and see the third AD’s tired face looking through you. It brings you back to reality as he starts leading you to set. You suddenly need to pee. Badly.
You’ve never been very good with time management have you?
He speaks into his walkie “I have him and we are travelling to you now.” Your heart starts going. “Copy that,” you hear the 1st AD say.
The hurry up and wait ship has sailed.
You’re ushered into set and immediately hit with the stuffy smell of atmospheric smoke and the sweat of 200 or so people. It’s a mix of a dark, packed room with strategically placed blinding lights. The 3rd AD leads you to your mark (a T-shaped piece of coloured tape telling you were to stand). Then he’s replaced with the hair and make-up team. The onslaught begins. They feverishly poke and prod you with “final touches” like a pack of stylish OCD chimps cleaning you for ticks. Next up: the wardrobe department joins in and starts tugging on your clothes. “Your pants are creased. You didn’t sit down in these did you?!" She starts tucking in your shirt for you, hands down your pants. “This shirt really doesn’t fit you. You should've worn a medium”.
What was I thinking?
“Where you playing with your hair?” the key hairstylist says as she re-sprays hair spray into your forehead. One of them starts smearing lip balm all over your lips with a finger that smells like she just smoked a pack of cigarettes. A likely scenario. The puttering tornado goes on and on until you're dangerously close to going Jerry Maguire when you hear the the 1st AD say those two magic words: “Walk away”. With that, the chic rape and pillage of your personal space comes to an end and the pack scurries off back to the shadows.
Next the director comes up to you and gives you a hurried breakdown of what’s going on. They call it blocking and it means planning out the physical movements of your scene. You remember this from your rehearsal but this time the look on his face is very different. Nice guy gone, this is no longer a discussion. Art class is over.
A camera guy sticks a measuring tape in your face and asks you if you plan on moving? “Make sure to keep it exactly the same as in the blocking or else you’ll be out of focus” he says. No eye contact from him. He seems pre-angry at you.
Don’t move. Got it.
You look up and realize that there are now about 100 or so extras all staring at you and most of them have the same look on their face of “I could do it better.” You recognize some of the guys from waiting room that you did your first casting against. Might be a bad time to go and say hi. Ok. Time to focus. You start to think about your character and what you’re doing in the scene. “Ok, what did the director say about my eyeline and when am I supposed to banana to the left? Do I do that before or after-"STAND BY!” the 1st AD blares into her walkie. “Quiet on set we ARE shooting the rehearsal lock it up.” A sound guy to your left says “Sound speed.” He sounds like he's sound asleep. You however are feeling anything but. Every atom in your body is WIDE AWAKE. Vibrating. You feel yourself sweating through your X-large shirt as one of the pins holding it tight pops out and stabs you in the back. Your mouth feels like you made out with a bag of flour and you would gladly club a baby seal for a sip of water.
No time.
There’s a dozen bright lights blaring into your eyes and you can barely see anything now (except for the giant camera staring at you that you're pretending not to notice). You feel your brow begin to cook the make up, hairspray and sweat into a nice, flesh-coloured face mud. You wonder if they can see your heart beating out of your chest. Good thing for that X-large shirt.
“Don’t look in the lens,” you tell yourself. “Eye line to the left, cheat for camera and banana to the right two beats after my line…. wait. Or was it..”
From out in the darkness you hear the director yell “JUST BE NATURAL”.
The award for best direction goes to....
The 1st AD blares into her walkie: “Stand by …….annnnnnd roll camera.” A camera assistant to your right puts a clapper in front of your face. “Scene 24 Apple take 1”.
!!!CLAP!!!
Then silence.
Everything is quiet now. The set is completely still. No more activity. No more waiting. 200 people stop what they’re doing and all look at you.
Expectations.
I am Jack's raging adrenal gland.
The director:
“Action”
That moment, that feeling...... it's why you put up with all that other stuff. It's why you do what you do. Because there’s no other feeling like it.
What a rush.
What a rush.
