MOVIE STAH

Well, not exactly the Big Screen.  When we got back from Camp, there was an email message from a casting ‘wrangler’ via our scooter club.  They were looking for scooter owners to appear in a commercial they were shooting.  Well, all right!  $120 bucks for the “talent” and $75 for the scoot.  All these years of living in LaLa land and finally my big break.  After some email exchanges (I was supposed to bring 3 changes of “hipster” clothes; say, What?  Do they really want ME?  Actually, they really wanted the scoot, I was just a necessary evil.), I accepted, and Tuesday morning, with Loni off to work at UCLA, I motored all the way across town to East LA where the shoot was to be done.  I’m not a big fan of freeway traffic, so it was on surface streets the whole way and took me about 1 1/2 hours.  Thanks to Google Maps the night before, I found my way there without any drama.  Checked in about 9:30 with the cast manager, and plunked down to wait.  And wait.  It appears that about 90% of a shoot is down time.  I and one other guy were at least a generation older than the rest of the cast, but everyone was very cool, if not exactly “hip.”  They announced they also wanted us to act as non-scooterist crowd-extras.  Beats sitting around.  We were called to wardrobe, and apparently I’m unhip, because they outfitted me with a shirt that escaped from Kramer’s closet.  I thought I was already hip.

Hmph.  I had to give the wardrobe lady my driver’s license as security.  As if I was going to run off with that?  It’s all for naught, anyway.  The commercial being shot was for a Russian cell phone company, and will never be seen over here unless it gets posted to uTube or something.  Not a great loss, from what I saw.  The conceit was that this was supposed to be a fancy club, red carpet and all, with “celebs” posing for “paparazzi,” with us “crowdies” jumping all over and waving to the hotties. 

Well, they thought they were hot.  The poor girl in the white dress had to keep tugging it down about every ten seconds.

Finally, it was time for the real stars.  Scooters!  Man your machines and form up over here.  And wait.  And wait . . .  Hmmm.  Look how “hip” my fellows are dressed.  I needn’t have worried.

OK!  Lights!  Camera!  Action!  Scooters, get on your machines and mass up down the end of the drive.  And . . . wait.

So, after all this, what did we end up doing?  Bunching up like you see above, then, on cue, ride about 100 feet toward the camera and come to a stop.  That’s great!  One more time!  That’s great!  One more time!  That’s great!  One . . . , well, you get the picture.  This went on ad nauseum about 15 times.  Each time we went back to group up, we had to sit there for five minutes, engines idling and overheating (two dropped out).  Did I mention it was 94 degrees?  No?  Well, it was a sauna.  At last we were done, and they fed us lunch at about 3:30.  Of course, we extras had to wait while all the crew got to cut in front of the line.  This, as it turns out, was a non-union job, with all participants being paid in cash so there’s no paper trail.  There were a lot of union folks there on the QT, picking up a little rent money. 

They were packing up all the gear, so I thought we were done.  Silly me.  The email DID say it was a 10 hour shoot.  They were just done at this location.  Now we were moving about 7 or 8 miles to the warehouse district downtown.  Actually, it was the abandoned warehouse district, as in mean streets.  Yikes, this is where the tv cop shows all film their dumped body scenes.

 

The producer popped up and warned everyone to stay within the fenced area as there were crazy types out there.  Everyone began to close ranks and we looked like a herd circling to protect its young.  We were here to film something inside the abandoned warehouse, but no one knew what.

Once again we did a lot of standing around and waiting for something to happen.  All it did was to get dark.  Some old hack starting extolling acting wisdom to the desperate wanna-bees, and they gathered around hoping for the pearl that would unlock their careers.

I drifted over to listen and heard him say:  “There’s text and subtext.  You know what I mean?  The text is the written words.  Ah, but the subtext is between the lines.  It’s what WE bring to the role.”  That’s when I promptly drifted away.  No one’s career would be made this night.

With darkness approaching, and me in a place I’m not quite sure how to navigate home from (I’d never been in this part of LA before), I was glad to finally get the call to enter the warehouse.  Or so I thought.  Ugh.  Peeling paint, tons of dust kicked into the air aggravated by a fog machine of all things.  This was supposed to be a rave site, with a DJ on a platform and the most irritating strobe lights I’ve ever had to endure.  Our mission was to jump about and wave our arms over our heads while music blared, and to continue to do so when the music stopped while they did the dialogue parts (with us gyrating in the background).  It was hilarious.  During the silences we could hear the Russian-speaking actors doing their lines as we pantomimed discoing our brains out.  Sorry, no photos of this insanity.  What I really wanted was a respirator.  All I could think about was that peeling paint in this ancient warehouse being from the lead era for sure.  I was sorely tempted to abandon the dough and cut out.  But we persevered and, at about 9:30, came the final “cut!” 

I made a beeline for the door and a fast trot to the paywagon.  I didn’t want to be at the end of a long line waiting one by one to get paid.  At least they didn’t abscond.  I duly signed the release, held it and the cash up for a photo to prove I got both, and boogied.  By now it’s pitch black.  I could see the downtown LA skyline off in the distance (we were way to the east), so I simply kept zigging and zagging until I got over that way and to familiar ground.  I have to say you really feel vulnerable riding out in the open on a scooter on deserted warehouse streets with few lights and fewer signs.  But all was good once I got to downtown business area and heading west.  Another hour, and home.  Rest assured, my fans, this was not a career move.