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Part 4

F. Scott Fitzgerald once wrote, “Let me tell you about the very rich. They are different from you and me.”

So are movie stars.

As I examined Craig, the word that came to mind was charisma. He seemed very serious, and very focused. This is not to say he’s without humor—on the contrary, there were instances when I saw him smiling or laughing with Eva, Martin, or another member of the cast or crew. But when he was rehearsing a scene, or in a serious discussion with Martin about a scene, or especially when the cameras were rolling, he was all business, and his intensity was tangible.

I’ll digress for a moment and mention a pet peeve. I hate it when actors (or anyone, for that matter) give the impression that they’re too cool for their surroundings, and that the whole thing’s a lark, not to be taken seriously. I want them to throw themselves into a role, to take it seriously, to understand the motivation, and to give one hundred percent. In short, I want them to respect the character they play. I want them to understand that by taking the role seriously, they are showing respect for the fans of the character.

Daniel Craig impressed me. A lot.

I don’t want to give the impression that I was in his inner circle. As anyone who has been an extra knows, the extras on film sets are extremely low on the food chain. But I was lucky enough to be situated near him in several scenes, so I was able to watch and pay attention to what he did and how he did it. And as I said, I was impressed.

But this is not about my theories on acting. Back to the narrative…

This day’s scene was a simple one, wherein Vesper arrives in the train station and 007 joins her as she leaves the depot. Together they get into the Hotel Splendide’s Daimler and head off for the hotel.

Simple enough, right? Not exactly…

The first problem was the weather. For the first time I could remember, the clouds began to break up and bright sunlight shone down. Standing in my overcoat and suit, I was actually sweating. This may not seem unusual in May, but to fully grasp this, you must realize that the past winter had really begun the past November, and we’d had snow in mid-April. All of my Czech friends were tired of my constant bitching about the cold, and went out of their way to tell me that this had been the longest winter that they could remember in twenty years. Small comfort!

Anyway, the heat wasn’t the problem—the sunlight was. Apparently, another scene that would match this one had been shot on an overcast day, and now we were waiting for the clouds to cover the sun so we could begin shooting again. The DP was staring up at the sun through a dark glass filter, and Martin was visibly annoyed.

“When the bloody hell are the clouds coming?” he’d say.
The DP would shake his head, and we’d all look up and watch as the clouds would—deliberately, it seemed—dodge around the sun.

More muttering from Campbell, and as he walked past me, I thought I’d take a chance and lighten the mood. “It’s my fault,” I said.
He looked at me, startled.
“What?”
“I said it’s my fault,” I repeated. “I’ve been freezing my ass off in this country for six months, praying for sun and warm weather. You can blame me.”
He smiled. “Well start praying for clouds, since you seem to have some influence.”
“You got it.”

He moved off, and Lenka, who’d been watching our exchange, said, “Who is that?”
Feeling a ridiculous sense of pride, I said, “Martin Campbell.” I paused for effect. “The director.”
I said it casually, as though Martin and I were pals, as though he and I chatted over drinks after a tough day’s shooting. I’m not sure, but I thought I saw the faintest glimmer of surprise and—newfound respect?—in her gorgeous brown eyes.

Or maybe I imagined it.

While we waited for the sun, Martin and a Czech speaking assistant went over to one of the two “Policemen” extras standing near the exit of the train station. The cop was maybe twenty-two, with a handsome, likable face. He was standing stiffly, ready for trouble, getting into his part.

“Tell him he’s too stiff,” Martin said. The assistant translated. The cop blinked, and slumped a fraction of an inch, uncomfortable at being singled out.

“No,” said Martin. “Tell him he’s bored, nothing ever happens here, he’s tired of standing around, he hates this job.”
The assistant translated. The cop slumped another fraction.
Martin laughed. “No, like this,” he said, grabbing the cop and positioning his arms and body as though he were a huge action figure. “Lean back against the pillar like this. Cross your leg over like this. Let your weapon hang like this, and just have your arm drape over it. There you go. Tell him he’s not on the parade ground, he’s a bored cop standing around.”

The assistant translated this last, and the cop grinned and finally loosened up.

“Perfect,” Martin said. He glanced over at the other cop flanking the entrance. The second cop had been watching closely and had already relaxed. Martin gave him the “okay” sign. The second cop also grinned and nodded back.

I was to see this repeated a hundred times in the next week, and I realized something important: What separates the “A” list directors from the pack is this attention to detail, this perfectionism. Once in a while, after I’d been standing for a few hours, I’d say to myself, “How can we possibly need another take? What was wrong with the last one?” And then Cambell or one of his AD’s would move a potted plant a foot to the right, or have someone walk more quickly, or put another glass on a waitress’s tray, and I’d think, You know, it is better that way.

Through all of this, Daniel was pacing back and forth rehearsing, saying his two or three lines over and over, apart from the crowd, completely focused on his role. It may seem like no big deal to remember two or three lines, but when you have to deliver them in the right way, at exactly the right point each time, as you’re timing your stride so that the dolly camera and the boom mike operator are keeping pace, it becomes a tad more difficult!

Eva had also arrived by now, dazzling in her belted coat and fedora. She was chatting with a crew member as the makeup people flitted around her, brushing lint off of her coat or touching up her lipstick. I was surprised at how small she was—petite is a better word—although I’ve noticed this before on other sets. The leading ladies usually impress me as very beautiful and very fragile, and somehow seem a little out of place, as though they’re from a species far more delicate than ours.

After another hour, it was nearing noon. Martin gave the sky one more disgusted look, then called a meal break. “We’ll try it after lunch,” he said. Eva and Daniel were whisked away in a dark blue Volvo S80, while the rest of us walked backed to the hotel. A shuttle bus was provided, but I preferred the exercise. We had about an hour for lunch, and then were given the word to head back down to the Colonnade. We took our positions, and…waited. And waited. And waited some more.

Finally, the clouds obliged and slid in front of the sun, and we began to shoot. It had been two hours since we’d rehearsed, so we ran through it again, and then we began to shoot.

“Cameras!” Martin shouted.
“Rolling.”
“Sound!”
“Speed.”
An AD snapped the clapboard in front of the lens, and then we heard our cue. “Background!”

I turned to Lenka, chatted in pantomime, and then checked my watch and scanned the crowd for my “connection.”

“Action!”

Eva headed toward us, amidst a horde of extras flowing in and out of the station carrying suitcases. In the middle of her walk, Daniel smoothly slid out from between two pillars and joined her without breaking stride. They said their lines and descended the few steps to the square.
“Cut! Very good, let’s do it again!”

(Here’s a link to a site with a perfect photo of where they shot this. Eva’s heading from the distance into the foreground, and Daniel joins her from the right. I hope linking like this is okay—I don’t have any photos of the Colonnade myself.)

We ran through the scene several more times. Sometimes a porter would be a bit slow, or another extra would be positioned somewhere else, or a person crossing in front would be told to speed up or slow down. After a dozen more takes, we were finished and told to relax, but not to go anywhere, as we’d do another scene shortly.

Lenka went over to the steps and sat down. “My feet hurt,” she said. I politely looked past where her miniskirt had ridden up on her thighs to her feet. I must confess I hadn’t really noticed that she was wearing shoes. Or even that she had feet, if truth be known. But I looked at her shoes and sympathized. They certainly looked uncomfortable.

After a moment, we were joined by the other Gangsters and Girlfriends, and the conversation flowed. Unfortunately, it flowed in Czech, so I was the odd man out. Lenka politely tried to include me with an occasional translation, but I could tell her heart wasn’t in it. The other Gangsters were all handsome young guys, and everyone was flirting and laughing. I excused myself and drifted away, feeling sorry for myself and annoyed with my lack of language skills.

I occupied myself with watching the crew and examining the little touches that had transformed the Colonnade into a train station. The crew had put up several large timetables (printed in Serbian, Montenegro’s language). Since the colonnade was made from limestone and marble and was a famous part of Karlovy Vary, I wondered how the they had attached the signs. I couldn’t believe they’d been allowed to drill holes in the classic facade—and they hadn’t.

They had measured the signs to fit in the shallow depressions that were part of the original wall, then wedged them in with wooden shims and painted the frames to match the limestone—and done it so well, unless you were two feet away you couldn’t tell. The result was a flawless set decoration.

I noticed this attention to detail all over the place—from the menus in the dining room that said, “Hotel Splendide,” to the fake “daily brochure” on the reception desk with that advertised the day’s offerings for the Splendide’s “guests.” Even the hotel staff—waiters, bellhops, etc.—had little plastic brass-finish nametags with the Splendide logo. The casino bar even had napkins with the logo…come to think of it, I nicked one of those. Where the hell did I put it? When I dig it up, I’ll scan it and post it. If I’ve lost in in the move from Czech to Arizona, I’ll never forgive myself!

Edit: Found it! Here it is…

Perhaps this doesn’t interest you—but it fascinates me. It’s an indicator of the level of detail that goes into these films, and gives you some small idea of why large films have such large budgets!

Soon, the crew was finished setting up for the next shot, where 007 and Vesper get into the Daimler. The extras were repositioned again, and again I was lucky enough to be close enough to observe the leads and hear what was going on.

Martin, Eva and Daniel and the Daimler’s driver conferred for a few minutes, blocking out the moves. The driver was a local, whose line was, “Hotel Splendide, sir?” I smiled as Martin walked him through it several times, stressing the inflection and having the man repeat it until he was satisfied. Inside, a part of me was like a little kid in the classroom, waving his hand and saying, “Oooh! Oooh! Let me! I can do it! Let me!”

I managed to restrain myself, but it wasn’t easy…

We shot that scene too, and several takes later we finished with the Colonnade/train station location.

Next we moved along the main street running to the hotel for a shot of the Daimler going past on the way to the hotel. Most of the train station extras were released, but we Gangsters and Girlfriends were held in case we were needed.

There was a brief moment when the Assistant Director, a Canadian guy, came up to me and another gangster and asked if we could cross the street in front of the car. We’d have to do it quickly—the car was moving rapidly. Did we think we could do it?

“Absolutely,” I said. Anything for another potential second of screen time!

Since there was no translator around, I did my best with the other Gangster, who nodded his understanding after a few seconds of my tortured Czech. Then we were ready for rehearsal. This time, we were to go on “action,” instead of “background.” Hey, we’re actors now!

We shot the scene twice, and we managed to successfully avoid being run over. Sadly, Martin decided we weren’t what he wanted, so they shot it again without us. Sigh…

It was now late afternoon, and all of the remaining extras were released to go back to the waiting area at the hotel. We sat, most of us playing cards, reading or chatting, for another hour or so when Jiri appeared and cut us loose.

There was a mass stampede to the changing area, and half an hour later I was on my way out, with a signed voucher in my pocket, and my first day’s filming under my belt. Whatever happened now, I thought, I’ve been on the set. Even if I don’t show up in the final film, I’ll have these memories…

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