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I Was an Extra in Casino Royale
Part 5
Written by Guest Writer on 10 Sep, 2006
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Part 5
I slapped my hand on the alarm to kill its insistent beeping. Ah, back to sleep…two minutes later, my cellphone started buzzing. What the hell?
Then I remembered. I’d set alarms on both of them, knowing that I had a nasty tendency to cancel the alarm while half asleep. I sat up, killed the cellphone, and checked the time.
4:15 a.m.
So much for the glamour of the movie business.
A little over an hour later, I was standing at the bus stop on the edge of town, shifting from foot to foot and huddling in my jacket. Apparently, we’d had our one day of nice weather, and the Czech spring had returned to form; a gunmetal overcast hovered above, and I could see my breath misting in front of me. It was just getting light, and I welcomed the sight of the bus to Karlovy Vary as it groaned up the hill and stopped to pick me up. At least it was warm.
By the time I stepped off again and finished the walk to the hotel, I was almost awake. I checked in again at the extras’ desk, received my voucher, and made a beeline for the coffee to finish the awakening process. You’ve probably guessed by now that I’m not a morning person…
As I went into the changing area, Joe waved hello, checked his list and said, “You gangsters are wearing your day wardrobes today.”
“Got it, thanks.”
I began to change, exchanging nods and greetings with some of the other extras I’d seen the day before. The young guy playing the cop from the train station came in, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, with a hooded fleece jacket decorated by a surfwear logo. He looked for all the world like a typical kid you’d see hanging out in a college bar in any city in the world. Ten minutes later he his uniform and boots had transformed him into an imposing figure of Eastern European authority. Clothes make the man, I thought.
I stopped by the makeup department again, and the girl from yesterday eyed me briefly and said I needed nothing. Her area was full of women getting their hair and makeup attended to so I suspect her approval was based more on expediency than my appearance, but I still decided to take it as a compliment.
I went out for a cigarette, just in time to huddle under the awning as it began to rain. The shower lasted for only a minute or two, and I wandered across the street where there was a blue tentlike shelter set up to shield the playback equipment from the elements. Martin and a few others were there, discussing the coming shots and watching the monitors. I stood off to the side, angling for a better view. What I saw made my heart sink.
They were watching the footage from the day before. Overnight someone had edited it into a rough cut (do they still call them “rushes?”), and as we watched, I saw Eva walk down the Colonnade, be joined by Daniel, and get into the Daimler.
I was nowhere in sight.
The shots had all been too tight for me to be seen. I noticed the “uptight” cop was visible, and I was happy for him, but I was still disappointed that I wasn’t in the picture. When you sign on as an extra, you know this may happen, but you hope it doesn’t. I went back to the waiting area, a little depressed. I tried to cheer myself by remembering that we still had nine more shooting days left, and that what I’d seen wasn’t necessarily the final cut. But my own reassurances sounded hollow in my ears.
In the hotel, I went upstairs to wait for the next call. I’d brought a book, so I settled in and read as the rest of the extras drifted in. Some chatted, some played cards, and some stretched out on the benches, catching up on their sleep.
After a while, Jiri came through and ordered all of the Gangsters and the Girlfriends to head downstairs and through the bar to the front of the hotel. We assembled in the restaurant, and Tom and another girl came through selecting us for a shot in which we’d be stationed at the cafe tables outside, providing background for 007’s arrival at the hotel. Or maybe it was for Le Chiffre’s arrival. Or departure. Or something.
I don’t know, because I wasn’t chosen.
After my non-appearance in the train station, I was beginning to wonder if I’d ever make it into the film. I felt even lower, and tried to give myself an attitude check.
You’re on the set of a Bond film, you idiot! You’d pay them just to let you walk around and hang out, so why are you so annoyed? Lighten up, enjoy the experience, and have fun!
It helped, a little.
To add insult to injury, my “Girlfriend” was picked, and paired up with another gangster. She joked and made a show of being sad to leave me, but I’m sure she was happier being paired with a guy who wasn’t so much work to talk to!
But to be absolutely honest, though, I didn’t really mind this one too much—the rain had stopped, but it still threatened, and the temperature was cold enough to be uncomfortable. I felt sympathy for the Girlfriends, whose attire sacrificed warmth for attractiveness. In acknowledgement of this, the crew handed them all pink blankets to wrap themselves in between takes. Watching them from inside the restaurant, I reflected that they all looked like refugees—albeit extremely good-looking and well-to-do refugees!
They’d only just finished rehearsals when it began to rain. There was a laughing stampede as they all bolted inside, chattering and grinning. After the brief shower, they were called outside again, only to repeat the entire process. This happened twice more: The wardrobe people would come around and collect the blankets, the prop guys would put down plates of food in front of everyone (it was real food, and looked delicious), the waiters would assume position, and then Martin would yell, “Background.”
Then it would rain and everyone would scramble back inside.
They must have finally either gotten the shot or given up, because we were released just before lunch and allowed to troop back through the hotel to the waiting area.
After lunch, we were asked to go outside again—everyone, not just the Gangsters and their Girlfriends—where we were positioned on the sidewalks and in the park around the hotel and casino. This was for a shot of the Daimler again, as it drove through the streets, or arrived at the hotel. Or something.
If I seem a little vague on the details, it’s because I was seldom consulted or notified as to the goings on. Hard to believe, I know, but there it is! I did my best not to feel offended…
In a slice of unintended irony, I was placed in front in front of an organic vitamin and healthfood store. I thought about this as I lit a cigarette, and wondered if I was providing a bad example to potential customers. Then again, what the hell does a gangster care about some local shop owner? He should be glad I’m not extorting protection money out of him…I glowered, the only “method extra” in history…
Sometimes I get carried away.
Anyway, we got our orders, and I was directed to walk away from the casino, while others would stroll past, linger in the park, etc. It sounds ridiculously trivial, but when you watch a film, think about everyone in the frame who isn’t a star.
All of those people in the airport, or the pedestrians on a street, or walking through a shopping mall—chances are, they were people like me, standing for hours waiting for a chance to see themselves in a darkened theater! For me, there is something strange and magical about the whole experience, knowing that long after you’re gone, someone in a future generation will turn on the late show and watch a movie, and there you’ll be (hopefully), holding a briefcase and scanning a crowd looking for someone who doesn’t exist, or striding intently to nowhere…
The rest of the afternoon was spent shooting variations of this scene. We’d walk, the car would go by, and then they’d reposition the cameras and do it again. In between shots, there’d be discussions between Martin and the AD, or his DP, and then the crew would swarm in and move lights, lay down dolly tracks, and wipe the intermittent rain off the vehicles with chamois cloths.
The casino and hotel where we were shooting are situated in a valley, so once the sun dipped behind the ridge, the light went quickly. As darkness fell, we were told that we might be asked to stick around and work into the night. Would this be a problem?
A few had family or job responsibilities and begged off, but the majority of us were quite willing to continue. Then word came just before our scheduled time to leave that we would not be needed after all. Ah, well.
As I had my voucher signed and changed back into my street clothes, I was a little disappointed. I hadn’t seen Daniel or Eva again, and had my doubts about whether I’d be in the final film. As I left, I ran into Tom, the AD who’d had us “pick a wife” yesterday.
“So,” I said, “how’d it go today?”
“Not so good. The rain put us a little behind,” he said. “Hopefully we can make it up tomorrow.”
“I’m sure you will,” I said. “Do you know when we start shooting the night scenes?”
“Well,” he said, “We were supposed to begin tomorrow, but now I think it’ll be Thursday. Why?”
“Oh, just curious. Looking forward to walking around on a James Bond set in my tux, I guess.”
He grinned. “Big fan, are you?”
“You have no idea,” I said.
I told him how I’d indoctrinated my younger sister with Bond fever back when we were kids, and how she’d done the same for her own two boys, who were now eight and five years old. “They’re almost as excited about this as I am,” I said. “If I make it into the movie, they’ll be jazzed.”
He grinned again. “Well, let’s hope you do,” he said.
I smiled back, but inside I was thinking, Not at the rate we’re going.
