My Life As An Extra : Part 1

Posted by Rev. Mitcz

July 23, 2008

This blog includes a “part 1″ cause I’d like to think I’ll chronicle my time doing background/extra work in movies/tv/whatever. It might end up that I only do this once, as I’ll explain later.

I’ve done background work before. I knew the 1st AD that worked on a still-unreleased Rob Schneider flick, and I was a random bar patron. I applaud my friend for getting me in the front row of the bar, so I was the first patron shown on screen, close-up. Schneider, however, had other ideas. He said “Look, pal, I dig what you’re…… doing here. With your look. But uhh.. you’re a bit much. Could you sit over there?”. So, I guess I’ll be eventually credited with “guy who gets up and waddles towards the jukebox”. Look for my ass to wiggle in “Big Stan” coming to theatres just before the apocalypse, apparently, since it’s been almost 2 years since I filmed that fucking thing.

Anywho.. that was so much fun (*snicker*) I decided I’d give it a go for a portion of my income this year.

Heading in..

I went into a casting agency this morning that specializes in casting extras for movies and TV shows - their name is intentionally left out, cause I’m not looking to get sued in case I signed something that said “don’t ever talk about us in your blog”.

Driving into their parking lot, I found plenty of signs that said “no parking for extras!”. Yes, with an exclamation point. I assume this is to prepare me for a future of driving around studios and being prepared to park across the street. This is something they mention in the orientation packet, in fact.

“No parking for extras” will become my mantra.

The lineup

Heading into the place, I assumed (naively) that I would walk up to a secretary and say “I’m here to auditon”. Nope. Instead, I’m in a room full of people filling out paperwork. And there’s a giant table for people who no doubt thought “it says to be there at 10:30 but I’ll arrive at 10am!”. These are probably the same motherfuckers who graduated high school with 4.2 GPAs and printed out their homework.

After filling out my paperwork, they said “okay, everyone line up” and I stood in a line that I thought would move pretty quickly. With only about 20 people in front of me, it took an hour before I arrived at the end desk where some old man sat and waited for me.

Along the way, there was a tiny video screen giving out information on “industry terms”, as if no one knows what “we’re rolling!” means on a movie set. Maybe they don’t. My favorite part was that the screen at one point said “Have Body Art? Tell the photographer about any piercings, tattoos, or interesting body scars. Usually, this can increase your bookings!”. I didn’t know being horribly scarred in a car accident was an admirable trait - but I was happy I didn’t have to hide that I removed my piercings prior to my arrival.

I finally arrived at the desk, and some old man typed in my information, grunting along the way as if to say “g’damn computers… with their.. keyboard and fancy screens. In my day, we wrote everything down with a quill pen and people wore a top hat and a 3-piece suit. G’damn kids. Get off my lawn”.

I brought with me 3 headshots that I had printed up earlier this week (those shots are in my myspace gallery, btw, if you’re painfully curious what the Mitcz looks like in a cheesy headshot pose). I said “I brought these headshots, in addition to my photo” and the man said “oh… tell the photographer”.

I went into the room with the now-infamous photographer. I said “I have piercings. And tattoos. I brought headshots!” And I showed them that I had headshots with and without piercings. He seemed unimpressed. Thankfully, some crazy lady looking up at me from the desk next to the photographer said “ooh.. that’s a nice one!” and pointed to the close-up of my face with piercings in. I dig that one, too. The photographer suggested I give them the pierced one, and he’ll take one of me without piercings.

Taking the picture

Here comes the funny part..

I said “okay, then here’s this one” and handed the lady my headshot. She said “it’ll be a $10 fee to scan this in”.

I paused. Looked at her, and went into “you’ve got to be fucking kidding me” sarcasm mode.

Me : “So… are you going to scan this in, and then make a 3D representation of me made out of hardened clay?”
Lady : (stares blankly at me as if to say “no such technology exists”) “Uhh…. no. Umm..”
Me : “Is the scanner powered by a nuclear reactor?”
Lady : (now starting to understand i’m fucking with her) “Ohh.. heh. Umm.. no. It’s just our fee”
Me : “I think I could BUY a scanner for $10 these days”
Lady : “That’s our fee for scanning”
Me : “Can I e-mail you a digital copy and save you the trouble?”
Lady : “No. We scan it in for you”
Me : “You wouldnt’ have to. I have digital copies of these, it’s really no trouble for me”
Lady : “We don’t offer that”
Me : “The recording yesterday said I could just drop them off”
Lady : “Yeah, you can put them in that box over there, but they won’t be included in your file”.

I don’t know what happens to photos put into the magic box. I didn’t ask. I paid the $10 uber-scanning fee, along with the $25 “headshot fee” and moved along for my unnecessary headshot.

Back in the day, some agencies would charge for your headshot cause they need to develop the photo, have it printed a few times, and put it in a book. These days, they have a digital camera (a rather shitty one, mind you. I carry a pocket-size Canon in my pocket that cost easily twice what they’re using) and put the fucker in their digital database.

Total cost of that? Maybe 1/100th of a penny. For electricity. And time. It’s not like the motherfucker is setting up a light rig. He pushes a button. I saw him do it.

Checking In..

I get home and wait until 2pm for them to update today’s list of castings for the following day. It sounded a lot to me like Hollywood Bingo.

Today, they were looking for an extra for Dexter. I love that show. I almost pissed myself when I heard it on the breakdowns. But here’s the catch..

They wanted a photo stand-in for Jimmy Smits. That means, from the get-go, they’re looking for a muscular SIX FOOT 3 Mexican. With short hair.

Oh, but wait! This is a scene involving golf. So, you’ll need a handicap of less than 9. And a course total of UNDER 80 strokes. That means 4 strokes per hole, on average.

Yeah, I’m sure there’s about 100 of those lying around.

The other calls asked for :
- An 18 year old with his own wetsuit
- A 20-something with a bright-red 1980’s-era Camaro
- Mid-20s men with a Mercedez, Lexus, Infiniti or better

WTF? I really hope that’s not a sign of things to come. But it sure as hell is interesting. Makes me wonder if they’re just having fun

“Okay, today we need a mid-40s male with a natural full head of hair, a red hat, flippers, and a blue honda civic”

I’ll keep you posted on where I go from here.

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