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So You Want To Be In Movies, Part 3

24 Tuesday Mar 2015

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Okay, this post will be a bit out of sequence. Let’s talk about:

3. You are a prop. You must move when and where the little PAs tell you, in exactly the manner they command, or risk their exasperation and maybe even ridicule.

The job description here describes PAs as ‘gofers’ but they don’t agree with that. They are in charge of you bunch of idiots and don’t forget it. They carry clipboards and have earphones and yell ‘Settle down!’ frequently. Because you and the Crowd people are a large and noisy…..crowd. The PAs want you to listen. They have instructions for you. Such as:

‘No talking on the set. Listen to the director. Move quickly when we tell you. Absolutely no cell phones and NO PHOTOS. Don’t talk to the actors. Pay attention to what I tell you. Don’t leave the set.’ And a lot more. These are your acting classes. Listen and learn. Because your rookie mistakes will really annoy the PAs/gofers/storm troopers.

Here is where I will mention a point out of sequence. In No. 10, I say that by the end of the day, you will be plotting the death of at least one PA. And likely more. You will. Collecting candidates is part of the fun.

There was a particular PA who was one of those permanently disgruntled people. Nothing was to her standards. She spent the whole time disgusted with her charges. She frowned forever, and then she criticized without mercy. One particular extra’s transgression was spilling a cup of coffee. Now, remember, there are five hundred people being randomly herded from place to place on short notice, stepping over cables on the floors, lights glaring down, dodging actors, directors, makeup people, everything happening at once. Something could spill. She fumed at the spiller, stomped off (and she was of a size and shape to really stomp), grabbed paper towels, and came back to yell, “This is what pisses me off!” What, a little spillage?

Another prince of a guy whined, “Single file, people. Don’t you know what single file means? Didn’t you go to kindergarten? One at a time is single file.” For the record, I did not go to kindergarten. Nobody paid any attention to him, anyway.

These two are in for a tough life. image

Okay, so your PA gets you onto the set…if this is your first time in movies, well, now it gets interesting.

4. The set looks nothing like whatever it’s supposed to be. Ok, maybe a little, but it’s surrounded by those notorious Green Screens that will, in the final production, make the scene real. Or faux real. 

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Movie magic happens now. First, I watched a guy spitting faux blood onto a precisely predetermined spot for about ten takes. After each take, someone had to clean up the faux blood and then replenish fresh faux blood in the actor’s mouth. The process was monitored closely by a couple of directors, crew with lights, crew with a SteadiCam, makeup artists….all going on at the same time. In the actor’s face.

This is where we put our acting instructions to use. Our direction (from the real director!): “okay, you fans are in an outdoor arena and you are all for the hometown guy. When I say ‘Action’, I want you to go crazy, yelling, screaming, jumping, interacting with each other. High fives, fist pumps, lots of smiles.

“I will also say Noise or No Noise. No Noise means you just mime the crazy yelling and screaming. The actors will be delivering their lines and we have to hear them.” Mime, huh? It was fun, actually. My two new friends and I were the best mimes in the place by the end of the day. And the most enthusiastic screamers!image

Our work has just begun. Stay tuned.

NOTE: photos in this post are not of the actual production.

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So You Want To Be In Movies?

07 Saturday Mar 2015

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NOTE: ALL PHOTOS USED WITH THIS POST ARE STOCK PHOTOS. NO PHOTOS OF THE ACTUAL PRODUCTION HAVE BEEN USED.

Well, who wouldn’t, right? The glamor, the excitement, the bright lights, the fame, the cheering fans……

So when I had the chance to work as an extra in the local area production of a major motion picture, I jumped at the opportunity to add ‘movie actor’ to my life resume. Why not?

The experience I had was many things: exciting, exhausting, boring, frantic, funny…..and much, much more.

I came up with a list of the ten most important things to remember if you want your shot at being on the big screen, just in case you get the acting bug. Here goes:

1. You and five hundred other aspiring ‘stars’ will be warehoused in a big holding area where you will follow shouted orders from very young production assistants. It might be very, very early in the morning.image

2. You will be mingling with The General Public. The General Public comes in all sizes, shapes, colors, ages, delusions of grandeur, and varieties of cleanliness.

image3. You are a prop. You must move when and where the little PAs tell you, in exactly the manner they command, or risk their exasperation and maybe even ridicule.

4. The set looks nothing like whatever it is it’s supposed to be. Ok, maybe a little, but it’s surrounded by those notorious Green Screens that will, in the final production, make the scene real. Or faux real.image

5. You will dress as you’re told. In pre-approved colors. So even if you are indoors and the scene is supposed to be outdoors in cold weather, you will broil in coats, hats, scarves, under the big hot lights.

6. It takes a very long time to do one little piece of a scene. I mean little. It’s done over and over and over…..

7. You will hear all kinds of conversations going on among your fellow extras. You have no idea the kind of things you’ll hear. You will learn new things.

8. You will make new friends, too. Or at least new acquaintances. Be open. Remember: the General Public.

9. You will watch the real stars go through their paces, from stand-ins to rehearsals to takes. Again, it takes a long time. So just be quiet.

10. You will be so exhausted by the final wrap that you will abandon every direction you have been given by those bossy PAs and will do as you please. Also, you and some of your new friends and acquaintances will plot the death of at least one PA. MAYBE MORE. And it will be very late. Very.

So that’s a short intro to what you might expect as you take an entry level job in the motion picture industry. In the next few posts, I’ll elaborate on each of the Ten Points with more details, insights, and descriptions of the fun. Stay tuned!

I’m Welcome! Now Leave Me Alone!

05 Wednesday Nov 2014

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I made a post about this on my Facebook page and it generated a lot of chat. Let’s see if you Musings followers agree.

I went into the drugstore to pick up a few things. Here’s how it went:

As soon as I walked in, a voice said, “Welcome to XXX.” I smiled and waved in the general direction of the voice.

About ten more employees continued to Welcome me. After the first Welcome, I’m good. I feel welcome. Okay? Still smiling.

Another five or six relentlessly cheerful people almost followed me through the aisles, making sure I was Welcome and checking to see if I needed help finding anything. All smiles stopped together.

No. I’m browsing. And suppose I was shopping for, say, Heavy Duty Odor Eaters or Maximum Strength Depends? Again, I’m fine. Thanks.

At least two more, after making sure: 1) I felt Welcome and 2) did not need guidance, made sure I was aware that I could get a flu shot, or even shingles vaccine, at the pharmacy, should I be in need of such.

I appreciate your concern for my health. But stop. I got this.

I know this is a marketing strategy, and the corporate marketing powers think this approach makes shoppers feel, well, Welcome. Instead, it is SOOOOO ANNOYING! I feel like I’m being stalked. No, really.

Welcome to my blog. Can I help you find the perfect post today? Oh, sorry, no flu shots here.

When I made this post on Facebook, it immediately generated ten ‘likes’ and comments from everywhere!

A Friend from Jersey, UK, has the same experience when clothes shopping. ‘Can’t I just browse?’

From Virginia: ‘I’d like to know whose master’s degree thesis in Marketing generated this idea.

From New Jersey: ‘Take them by the hand and say, “Oh, yes, I’m looking for the industrial strength Wart Remover! “‘

I don’t mean to criticize the employees so much as I mean to take a swipe at the policy of customer intrusion.

What do you other Musings followers think? Have you had this experience? Is it helpful? How do you respond?

Followers in countries outside the USA, do you have this when you shop? Tell us by commenting here in the blog.

I’m finished the rant now. You are Welcome to reply.

In Fourteen Hundred Ninety Two….

12 Sunday Oct 2014

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Columbus Sailed The Ocean Blue!

And discovered America! And he was Italian! Everybody knows that, right?

Wrong, o history revisionists. Here, in my own words, is what actually happened:

Cristoforo Colombo (AKA Columbus) lived in Genoa. Which at the time was not Italy as we know it. He noticed that if he walked around the city in a circle from the west side, he would wind up on the east side at some point. Mamma Mia! This could work on the Ocean Blue. If you sailed a ship west, you would show up in the east. That’s where the spices are, the kind that you put in food so it’s hard to tell how old it is. The food, not the spices.

So he pitches the idea to the Genoese government, Genoa being a seafaring nation. We could make some money here.

Genoa says No, Che Pazzo. You’ll fall off the Earth.

Colombo heads to Spain, another seafaring nation, taking the West Is East idea with him. Long story short, Their Catholic Majesties Ferdinand of Castile and Isabella of Aragon like it. They buy in. He gets three ships (extra credit if you remember the names) and sails approximately west from Spain. Bring back spice.

Instead of falling into the abyss, Colombo and his men bump into…..well, it must be India. What else could it be?

Now we know it was one of those lush Caribbean islands. But then, nobody knew. So India.

No spice. But the weather is great. He claims it for Spain. All of it.

To summarize: an ex-pat from Genoa, a state in Italy, sailed under the auspices of Spain to an island somewhere well south of the large North American landmass. He had no idea where he was. His native land had brushed him off. Spain adopted him, bankrolled the operation, and then owned the New World.

With apologies to my Italian ancestors, it was a Spanish thing.

So anyway, half a millennium later, North America marks October 12 (or 13, if you want a three-day weekend) with Italian themed parades and mattress sales. To tell the truth, neither of these means Discovered America. Come on.

In Philadelphia, hundreds of miles from Colombo’s landing place, we have a monument to Columbus, as he is now known, touting his discovery. It’s on the riverfront. Why Philadelphia? He didn’t sail up the Delaware.

Even worse, to take the myth a step further, the city was convinced to change the name of the wide thoroughfare that borders the river from Delaware Avenue to Columbus Boulevard.

The Native American Indian tribes in the area were the Delawares. Not the Columbuses. How insensitive…. They were here, he was not. Ever. So what’s the honor? Why?

I’ll never understand and I’ll never say Columbus Boulevard, either! My personal defiance.

Enjoy your holiday, Americans all! Go to a nice Italian parade, buy a mattress, honor the lost Genoese mercenary who gave us the day off! Accuracy need not count! Most of all, have a little chuckle on me!

One last thing…
My fellow North Americans in Canada and Mexico….do you also get the day off, have Italian parades, and buy mattresses? Just wondered.

One more last thing….
My Irish ancestors were here first.

Gardening With Gram: Anything Grows

18 Thursday Sep 2014

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I recently received an invitation from a Master Gardeners group to join them in learning how to make my garden beautiful. Couple of things wrong with this idea.

First, I don’t have a garden. I have a few pots of herbs, which, miraculously, have not perished.

And second, I have the quintessential black thumb. Nothing will make me a Master Gardener, but thanks anyway.

My paternal grandmother, Leta Neal, was the opposite. She grew up on her grandfather’s farm in Cumberland County, New Jersey, and even though she spent most of her life in the city, she never lost her talent for growing things.

In her urban garden, she grew marigolds, mint, lily of the valley…even roses, in the not so fertile soil of downtown Philadelphia.

She could grow anything. Give her a dead stick, and snap, she resurrected it. It bloomed anew. Plants loved her.

Which brings me to a Gardening With Gram story renowned in the annals of family history.

Gram and the Tropical Plant

Gram lived in the old family home on South Second Street well into her eighties. I brought my kids to visit often. She loved having them, they loved the alien urban world she lived in, and we could visit Uncle Harry (my brother) and Aunt Sis, who lived next door because they had two cats, Queenie and Squeek, to play with.

We drove in one sunny Saturday. The kids headed to the back yard to explore the old shed and maybe check in with the cats, and Gram and I sat in the living room with cool drinks.

I noticed she had a new plant on the windowsill. It was thriving, of course. She had trash picked it a couple of weeks before, she said, when someone discarded it, apparently dead.

Wow, it looks great. You saved its life. Really bushy and so green…full and lush…..and….what unusual, glossy, five-fingered leaves….

I’m no expert, but I was pretty sure my eighty–five year old grandmother was growing marijuana.

I went next door. Harry, I think we have a situation at Gram’s.

He took one look and quirked an eyebrow at me. Yep, Gram was growing cannabis. In her front window.

And wasn’t it a good thing I noticed it before the cop on the beat!

Now what? We hatched a plot.

I told her I had a friend who loved tropical plants. Would she let me have this one to give as a gift? It was really unusual and my friend would love it.

Long story short, I drove home with a cannabis plant and my two kids in the car. And as much as I hate to destroy living things, I had to let this plant die. Not difficult for me. RIP.

Nowadays, with all the changes in marijuana laws, I think Gram could have had a nice little cottage industry for herself.

We would have to tell her what the tropical plant really was, though.

Sir Arthur

12 Friday Sep 2014

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Sir Arthur Conan Dog is a bulldog of my acquaintance who lives with one of my By Marriage relatives. Let’s call her my daughter’s sister in law Jen.

Arthur is darling rescue of a boy whom Jen adores. Mostly. This week, Arthur has his Special Lady, McKinley, another bulldog, staying over. Here’s what happened, as told by Jen:

Walking two bulldogs is like this:

Me: Come on.
Dogs: No.

Me: Let’s go.

Dogs: Nope.
Me: Get moving!
Dog 1: Okay.
Dog 2: No.
Me, to Dog 2: Come on!
Dog 2: Okay.
Dog 1: No.

Staring contest.

Pedestrian: Oh, bulldogs! Omigod, I love bulldogs! Can I pet them?

Petting, chatting.

Guy in car pulls over and yells out window: Bulldogs are the best dogs! I grew up with bulldogs! Hey, buddy! Hey, guys!

Just me and bulldogs again.

Me: Come on.
Dogs: No.

And so it goes. Jen says, “I started bringing treats and giving him (Arthur) one after he does his business…but he doesn’t do it any faster now. He just makes awkward eye contact with me while he poops so he knows I see him doing it for the treat.”

I hope to have more Sir Arthur Conan Dog stories soon. I’m liking this guy.

Sir Arthur (front) and houseguest.

Sir Arthur (front) and houseguest/squeeze McKinley.

Warm and Dry, that’s me

21 Thursday Aug 2014

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I will not accept the ALS Challenge so save your nominations for those who feel the need to drench themselves in ice water. It’s a great cause. It’s a cute way to highlight the disease. But I ain’t doin’ it.

It’s not cute anymore, it’s boring. Even when people try to come up with clever ways to get soaked, or to soak others……..well, there are only so many ways to do it.

So then they invent other ways. The sneak attack. The second floor pour from above. The self pour, the multi-sided pour, the pour from the earth mover.

Or the actually pretty good combination of the sneak attack Presidential pour that Laura Bush perpetrated on George. She seemed to really like that.

Of course, there are the disaster pours, too. The ones where the bucket hits     the victim instead of just the water. Funniest Home Videos, here we come!

A friend in Belgium took the challenge and then was chastised for not having enough ice in the water. His response: well, we don’t have giant refrigerators here that make tons of ice!

But I have to say the pics and posts of people playing with water were a refreshing antidote to all the other news. The riots, the beheadings, the bombings, the monsoon floods…….. For that, I am grateful.

But we have run the theme out. I’m sure the ALS researchers are pleased. As they should be. And the victims and their families and friends are grateful and encouraged. The response is humbling. I can only wish that the folks who poured the water now know more about ALS.

So let’s find something else to do. Come on, summer’s almost over! We have beaches to explore, sleeping in to do, s’mores to squish…..

That’s it: The S’More Squish Challenge! Most creative squish. Biggest squish. Sneakiest squish. Squish not using chocolate, marshmallows and graham cracker squish. Presidential squish? And why not?

You get what I’m saying, right? Not trying to be mean. No, really.

Moving on…….more Musings later. Wait til you hear what I have to say about Small Plate Restaurants………

 

Random Musings

07 Thursday Aug 2014

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I sent a birthday card to a friend having one of those significant, milestone birthdays. The card said how valuable and collectible our old childhood favorite toys would be today, with the sentiment ” You’re not old, you’re collectible.”

I like it: collectible. A keeper. Something to hang on to. A person/thing/memory of value. I wrote a message on the card wishing him a ‘collectible’ day.

A few days later, he sent me an email thanking me for the card. He said he had spent the day with his two adult kids and his Absolutely Perfect Grandson. They hung out, ordered pizza…okay, salad, too….and just enjoyed the day. Sounds like it was collectible.

My new signoff now will be Have A Collectible Day. Just so you know. Although that bit about our childhood toys…..got me to thinking.

I got a Toni doll from Santa when I was about six. I saw my exact Toni doll, whom I called Alice, in an antique store on Pine Street in Philadelphia. Price tag: $400. Ah well.

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Here’s little me with some of my now collectible dolls. That’s Alice there in the front–the cute blonde with the red bow and plaid jumper. Wow, look at some of those other oldies but goodies: Little Lulu, Howdy Doody, The Magic Lady, Jerry Mahoney. I could have been rich! 

I’ll Bet It Seemed Like A Good Idea

You boomers out there, you know we’re bombarded with all kinds of targeted advertising of, let’s say, questionable taste.

Bladder leakage? No problem. We have pads of ever size, shape and, absorbency! And for you guys, we have ’em shaped like, well, like you! Overactive bladder? A little pill will take care of that. Forget looking for the restroom! You might not even need those pads!

Oh, yeh, and we have pills to relieve that pesky painful sex if you’re a gal of a certain stage of life. Which you might need if you are closely related to someone who is a guy in need of a pill that makes him want to sit side by side with you in a couple of old claw foot bathtubs and see if his heart is healthy enough for sexual activity.

But friends, I recently received, right here in the comfort of my own home, a marketing piece that astonished me. And I believe it was carefully targeted to….Boomers.

No, really. A letter announced I had won a Major Award. It had a VERIFICATION NUMBER and everything. Wait for it.

Here’s the first paragraph of the letter.

CONGRATULATIONS! On behalf of the Management at A Certain Cemetery, we are pleased to provide your family verification that you have been awarded one burial space absolutely at NO COST!

Naturally, I though it was a joke. But it was legitimate. I had been selected ‘at random’ for this limited offer….current market value of my burial space is $1,500. ! All I had to do was contact the Awards Secretary (within fifteen days) to confirm my information and I was under no obligation to purchase anything.

Like, I don’t know, a casket to go with my burial space? How about a nice granite marker?

I got the giggles. The kind of giggles that start bubbling up slowly. I reread the Award Verification. I re-reread it. Then I noticed a line at the bottom of the letter, under the signature.

Please accept our sincere apology if this has reached you at a time of illness or loss.

Giggles erupted into screaming, howling belly laughter. WTF? Maybe you should have thought of this a little sooner!

I am not making this up. I couldn’t. But it would have made a great Seinfeld episode, wouldn’t it?

George gets this letter and plunges into angst. It’s an omen. He’s going to die. In fifteen days. Somebody’s after him. A former girlfriend? Jerry says fugeddaboutit.

Kramer decides they should investigate. They sneak into the cemetery at night and explore all the available burial spaces included in the offer. He advises. This one’s too small, this one’s too big. That one under a big tree. It’s too shady and could cause moss to grow on the marker……oh, yes, the marker, available for a limited time only at the introductory price of only….but oh no! The stone on the  occupied space right next door reads………Susan! His deceased fiancée! Doom! It ends in hilarity as Kramer falls into one of the Limited Edition plots and George is too short to pull him out. They call Jerry who is waiting for a table at a Chinese restaurant. Hearty laughter all around.

Sounds collectible! Ya gotta laugh, dontcha? Here’s the letter.

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