They're Gonna Put Me In The Movies, and All I Gotta Do...

Who among us hasn't secretly believed that we could have been the next (insert movie star's name here), if only we had not gotten married, got a job, overslept or any of a thousand other rationalizations that keeps us from the real reason, which is that we have all the acting talent God gave gravel. I know whereof I speak.

As a result of my recent addiction to Craig's List, which I still contend is the most dangerous site on the Web, I found myself upping my humiliation quotient to new highs by voluteering as an "extra" in a locally produced independent film. The ad requested bald people for a quirky comedic film to be entered in film festivals around the world. Bald, eh? Since that is one thing I am pretty good at, I volunteered. "What can it hurt? Who's gonna know?" I thought. This midlife crisis is getting out of hand. The name of the flick? "The Head of the Company."

My "role" consisted of showing up for several hours on Saturday and Monday at the offices of the Cleveland Plain Dealer (motto, "On a clear day, you can hear our toilets flush in Afghanistan.") and participating in the main pastime of actors everywhere, waiting. I am guessing that real actors movies are a lot like being a soldier at war. 99% of the time is consumed by sheer boredom, followed by short periods of intense fear, insecurity and other generally pleasant emotions.

I did however learn several cinematic "secrets" which I will reveal unless the film's producer/director/cameraman/writer/hall monitor..., who shall remain anonymous, (although his real name is Butch Maier) sends me much cash in small unmarked bills. Since I know that Butch was working on a budget that consisted of nearly $0, I will continue.
The first and most obvious thing I noticed about movie makers is that they have created one of the world's greatest lies. It ranks right up there with "I did not have sex with that woman", "Saddam has WMD" and "We here at Congress are committed to lobbying reform". That lie is uttered by the director after each segment of filming in which they say "Let's do that ONE MORE TIME!" "One more time" in movie parlance, evidently means "ad nauseum." The consequence of this phrase became painfully ingrained when we filmed the "office" scene on Monday evening. More on that later. Butch would shoot a half nanosecond of film followed by "One more time!" so often that some scenes seemed to take as long as extended space travel.

On this first day of shooting in the Plain Dealer's meeting room, I actually got a "line" to speak in the movie. This caused a bit of consternation on my part as I thought I was just going to be sitting or walking around in the background. I can do that. However, I can no more memorize a line and act it out on a second's notice than I could convince Nancy Grace that she is creepier than a bucketful of Dennis Rodmans. Anyway, the line was about 10 words, but it seemed that it was the Gettysburg Address. So I stumbled on the line a tad.

On Monday evening, the main scene of the movie was to be filmed and Butch, who operates on the premise that "Anyone can make a movie if they have actual money," needed to create the illusion that about 15 bald guys were actually about 150 bald guys. This clever bit of Hollywood magic is acheived by having those 15 guys sprint around the camera, while changing jackets, sweaters or shirts running maniacally around the moving camera to get into the next part of the camera shot in about as much time as it takes a congressman to accept a bribe. So, Butch was pushed along a corridor of cubicles with his camera taking a "tracking" shot while 15 crazed bald guys essentially perform what used to be called a "Chinese Firedrill" behind the camera. Jackets flying, people bouncing off walls and stumbling over discarded garments, huffing and puffing to get into the next cubicle these bald guys, several of them a tad past their prime, anxious for the 15 minutes of fame, executed the shot flawlessly. If you ask me, Butch should have filmed us as we flailed around the cubicles trying to get to our places and act casual for the shot, because that was really funny. We executed the scene flawlessly about 20 times. As Butch had the phrase "One more time" recorded and played over the loudspeaker system. By the time we had finished the scene, the combined weight loss of this group of actors could be measured in gross tonnage.

So that's it. My foray into the wonderful and magical world of movies. I guess I'm really excited, despite it all, as I am sure that my line in the film is destined for the same cinematic immortality as "Frankly Scarlet...", "E.T. phone home," and "I'll have what she's having." OK, maybe not. What was my line you ask? If you are asking that question, you have way too much time on your hands but I'll tell you...


"THESE PRETZELS ARE MAKING ME THIRSTY!"

Love
Dad