I'm Sort Of A Movie Star!!!
This weekend my wife and I headed off to St. Petersburg to be in a movie. It was originally called Zombotomy, but that sort of implied flesh-eating undead, so now they're calling it Trep Nation (I believe the final title remains flexible). Our role was that of the "vagrants," and we arrived appropriately dressed. It was the very first night of a shoot that's set to go through May. Call time: 6:45 PM. Scheduled end time: 11:00 PM. While I don't wish to spoil any of the plot twists in this blog entry, here's some foreshadowing: We were not done by 11:00 PM.
When we arrived at Demens Landing, the shooting location, it was rainy, windy, and cold. Director Andrew Allan gave us a cheerful greeting and explained that they were still waiting for everybody to show up. We were welcome to hang out, or we could just come back in an hour or so. Not being method actors, we prepared for our role as vagrants by driving to Chipotle for a big-ass burrito.
Upon our return, crew members were starting a generator and setting up various cryptic filmmaking contraptions (one thing kind of looked like it was meant to be a rain keeper-outer, but probably wasn't). Producer Andy Lalino (whose film Filthy I've discussed more than once on this blog, because it's wonderfully entertaining and unspeakably foul) was performing the crucial film producer duty of calling people to find out where the hell they were. Meanwhile, some other crew members were trying desperately to set up the makeup station in the wind and rain. After unsuccessfully trying to keep a plastic tarp from hanging down into the very, very, very hot light, the whole makeup operation was moved to the women's restroom.
Andrew the Director told me how much he loved my reading of "The Bad Candy House" on Dread Central. If I'd known he enjoyed it that much, I would've asked for a bigger part in his movie. He explained that my role was to get interrogated and beat up in the park; however, they were also considering an alternate version of the scene where I get dragged out from a covered slide and then beat up. Abuse. Cool.
We hung out at the makeup station for a while. A long while. The other actors in our scene (Spy #1 = Clayton Clark, Spy #2 = Brian Watts) were in their snazzy black spy costumes, and Andy the Producer gave them a safety lesson in handling their stun batons. These were real stun batons, capable of delivering 800,000 volts each of vagrant-stopping power, and the safety lesson was very, very serious. Basically, you press a button and the baton pops out, at which point that baby is live. The safety must be on AT ALL TIMES. To retract the baton, you do not press it against the wet ground. It would've been kinda funny if one of them had said "So don't do this, right?" and zapped his partner in the leg, but neither of them did. In fact, after carefully handing the stunners back to Andy for safekeeping, Brian rattled off a list of fierce weapons he has fired in his life with no qualms, and explained that this was the only thing that ever made him nervous.
We continued to hang out at the makeup station, where the lead actor and actress were still being processed. Andrew the Director came over and asked me if I knew the plot of the movie, which I didn't, but he didn't get past the first act before he got called away to do director stuff. My wife and I wandered around for a while, watching crew members continue to set up stuff that we weren't really sure what it did.
Marcus Koch, director of the psycho killer clown movie 100 Tears, was in charge of special effects makeup, and I got to talk to him for a while. He showed me some pictures of the effects he'd just done for a different movie...or else he was showing me pictures of a real dismembered corpse. It was pretty darn realistic. I guess if he were a real killer he wouldn't be able to show off pictures willy-nilly without getting quickly busted by the cops, so they were probably F/X. If not, stun batons are available.
Sandy Lalino set up the awesome craft services table, following the rule that in a low-budget production, the best thing you can do is keep your crew well fed. Of course, I'd pigged out on that sizable burrito so I skipped the solid foods, but they had Mountain Dew, so I was happy.
Makeup continued. It was now past 11:00 PM, so things were obviously a wee bit behind schedule. In fact, I didn't get into the makeup chair until 1:30 AM. Makeup guru and roller derby chick Joanie Atkins dirtied me up quite nice, adding a week's worth of beard growth, screwing up my hair, adding grime-a-plenty to my face, clothes, and hands, and adding red lines under my eyes and on my nose. I looked like absolute crap...but in a good way!
Now in full makeup, it was time to wait some more. Brian the Spy actually had the script page with our scene available, and I saw that my role was to be yanked to my feet and asked which way the heroes went. I'd point and then be thrown to the ground. As a Bram Stoker Award-nominated author, I decided that a rewrite was in order, where I'd say "Unhand me, foul blackheart, lest I deliver a thrashing you won't soon forget!" Then I'd break him in half over my knee, pick up his stun gun, zap myself in the chest, and say "Oooh, yeah, that's the sweet stuff."
I watched the leads, Chris Jackson and Somali Rose, film a scene. They had to do it approximately 27,319 times from 11,382 angles. I was in full vagrant gear, meaning multiple layers of clothing, and I was freezing. The actors were not in multiple layers of clothing, particularly Somali. It basically went, shoot a scene, throw a coat on Somali to allow her to de-thaw while the crew sets up the next scene, and so on. At the end, I got to watch one of the takes in the playback monitor, and it looked fantastic. Live, the scene looks all fakey with the crew and the lights and the cameras, but watching it on the monitor...whoa, it's a real movie!!!
Then I watched Andy the Producer haul off a bag of garbage from the craft services table. I suggested that the producer shouldn't be doing that; he should be ordering other people to carry trash while reclining in a lounge chair and smoking a stogie. "That's not how things work at The Film Ranch," he said, cheerfully performing custodial duties.
Around 4:00 AM I started to question whether the vagrants would be needed. Anthony (whose last name isn't on the call sheet, so I'll just call him "Anthony") was set to play a Street Thug and had already been sent home, to return another night. (Clayton was drinking a Red Bull, and Anthony cheerfully told him what "Taurine" really is. I looked it up and found that he was right. I drink a lot of beverages with Taurine and would have preferred to remain blissfully ignorant.) Would the vagrants get their time in the spotlight?
Yes...but in a reduced role. Thanks to the approaching sunrise, our new job was to lay on the stairs while Clayton the Spy (Brian the Spy had also been sent home, to return on Sunday) walked past. It was actually kind of comfy. Then I was told that they couldn't see my face in the monitor, and I was given specific instructions on how to contort. This was quite a bit less comfy. But I lay there, clutching an oversized beer can to my chest, pretending to be unconscious while they filmed the dramatic staircase scene several times. It would've been really frickin' embarrassing to screw up a role where my job was to pretend to be asleep, and I'm proud to report that I did a fine job. Or I think I did. Ultimately, it's you, the audience, who will have to determine whether my portrayal of the unconscious vagrant was pure awesomeness or whether I ruined the entire movie.
At 6:15 AM, slightly later than scheduled, the vagrants--and the night's shooting--were complete.
For more information on The Film Ranch, get thee to www.thefilmranch.com.
For more information on my new book SUCKERS, which will be worth 7.4 times its cover price when Spielberg casts me as a vagrant in his next movie, head over to www.jeffstrand.com.
That's a wrap.
When we arrived at Demens Landing, the shooting location, it was rainy, windy, and cold. Director Andrew Allan gave us a cheerful greeting and explained that they were still waiting for everybody to show up. We were welcome to hang out, or we could just come back in an hour or so. Not being method actors, we prepared for our role as vagrants by driving to Chipotle for a big-ass burrito.
Upon our return, crew members were starting a generator and setting up various cryptic filmmaking contraptions (one thing kind of looked like it was meant to be a rain keeper-outer, but probably wasn't). Producer Andy Lalino (whose film Filthy I've discussed more than once on this blog, because it's wonderfully entertaining and unspeakably foul) was performing the crucial film producer duty of calling people to find out where the hell they were. Meanwhile, some other crew members were trying desperately to set up the makeup station in the wind and rain. After unsuccessfully trying to keep a plastic tarp from hanging down into the very, very, very hot light, the whole makeup operation was moved to the women's restroom.
Andrew the Director told me how much he loved my reading of "The Bad Candy House" on Dread Central. If I'd known he enjoyed it that much, I would've asked for a bigger part in his movie. He explained that my role was to get interrogated and beat up in the park; however, they were also considering an alternate version of the scene where I get dragged out from a covered slide and then beat up. Abuse. Cool.
We hung out at the makeup station for a while. A long while. The other actors in our scene (Spy #1 = Clayton Clark, Spy #2 = Brian Watts) were in their snazzy black spy costumes, and Andy the Producer gave them a safety lesson in handling their stun batons. These were real stun batons, capable of delivering 800,000 volts each of vagrant-stopping power, and the safety lesson was very, very serious. Basically, you press a button and the baton pops out, at which point that baby is live. The safety must be on AT ALL TIMES. To retract the baton, you do not press it against the wet ground. It would've been kinda funny if one of them had said "So don't do this, right?" and zapped his partner in the leg, but neither of them did. In fact, after carefully handing the stunners back to Andy for safekeeping, Brian rattled off a list of fierce weapons he has fired in his life with no qualms, and explained that this was the only thing that ever made him nervous.
We continued to hang out at the makeup station, where the lead actor and actress were still being processed. Andrew the Director came over and asked me if I knew the plot of the movie, which I didn't, but he didn't get past the first act before he got called away to do director stuff. My wife and I wandered around for a while, watching crew members continue to set up stuff that we weren't really sure what it did.
Marcus Koch, director of the psycho killer clown movie 100 Tears, was in charge of special effects makeup, and I got to talk to him for a while. He showed me some pictures of the effects he'd just done for a different movie...or else he was showing me pictures of a real dismembered corpse. It was pretty darn realistic. I guess if he were a real killer he wouldn't be able to show off pictures willy-nilly without getting quickly busted by the cops, so they were probably F/X. If not, stun batons are available.
Sandy Lalino set up the awesome craft services table, following the rule that in a low-budget production, the best thing you can do is keep your crew well fed. Of course, I'd pigged out on that sizable burrito so I skipped the solid foods, but they had Mountain Dew, so I was happy.
Makeup continued. It was now past 11:00 PM, so things were obviously a wee bit behind schedule. In fact, I didn't get into the makeup chair until 1:30 AM. Makeup guru and roller derby chick Joanie Atkins dirtied me up quite nice, adding a week's worth of beard growth, screwing up my hair, adding grime-a-plenty to my face, clothes, and hands, and adding red lines under my eyes and on my nose. I looked like absolute crap...but in a good way!
Now in full makeup, it was time to wait some more. Brian the Spy actually had the script page with our scene available, and I saw that my role was to be yanked to my feet and asked which way the heroes went. I'd point and then be thrown to the ground. As a Bram Stoker Award-nominated author, I decided that a rewrite was in order, where I'd say "Unhand me, foul blackheart, lest I deliver a thrashing you won't soon forget!" Then I'd break him in half over my knee, pick up his stun gun, zap myself in the chest, and say "Oooh, yeah, that's the sweet stuff."
I watched the leads, Chris Jackson and Somali Rose, film a scene. They had to do it approximately 27,319 times from 11,382 angles. I was in full vagrant gear, meaning multiple layers of clothing, and I was freezing. The actors were not in multiple layers of clothing, particularly Somali. It basically went, shoot a scene, throw a coat on Somali to allow her to de-thaw while the crew sets up the next scene, and so on. At the end, I got to watch one of the takes in the playback monitor, and it looked fantastic. Live, the scene looks all fakey with the crew and the lights and the cameras, but watching it on the monitor...whoa, it's a real movie!!!
Then I watched Andy the Producer haul off a bag of garbage from the craft services table. I suggested that the producer shouldn't be doing that; he should be ordering other people to carry trash while reclining in a lounge chair and smoking a stogie. "That's not how things work at The Film Ranch," he said, cheerfully performing custodial duties.
Around 4:00 AM I started to question whether the vagrants would be needed. Anthony (whose last name isn't on the call sheet, so I'll just call him "Anthony") was set to play a Street Thug and had already been sent home, to return another night. (Clayton was drinking a Red Bull, and Anthony cheerfully told him what "Taurine" really is. I looked it up and found that he was right. I drink a lot of beverages with Taurine and would have preferred to remain blissfully ignorant.) Would the vagrants get their time in the spotlight?
Yes...but in a reduced role. Thanks to the approaching sunrise, our new job was to lay on the stairs while Clayton the Spy (Brian the Spy had also been sent home, to return on Sunday) walked past. It was actually kind of comfy. Then I was told that they couldn't see my face in the monitor, and I was given specific instructions on how to contort. This was quite a bit less comfy. But I lay there, clutching an oversized beer can to my chest, pretending to be unconscious while they filmed the dramatic staircase scene several times. It would've been really frickin' embarrassing to screw up a role where my job was to pretend to be asleep, and I'm proud to report that I did a fine job. Or I think I did. Ultimately, it's you, the audience, who will have to determine whether my portrayal of the unconscious vagrant was pure awesomeness or whether I ruined the entire movie.
At 6:15 AM, slightly later than scheduled, the vagrants--and the night's shooting--were complete.
For more information on The Film Ranch, get thee to www.thefilmranch.com.
For more information on my new book SUCKERS, which will be worth 7.4 times its cover price when Spielberg casts me as a vagrant in his next movie, head over to www.jeffstrand.com.
That's a wrap.
posted by Jeff Strand at 5:58 PM
1 Comments:
All I needed to see was Call 6:45 PM and end time 11:00 PM to tell you that you were going to shoot until dawn! ;)
That's the way it goes on these things.
However, it sounds like you had fun.
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