Movie making magic #1

There was to be an open casting. So exciting. Would they give me lines to say? What would I wear? I thought about it for a split second and the answers came to me: no and clothes. Movie extras are like those extra lines of code Microsoft Word adds in when a Word doc is saved as HTML - there are hundreds of them, they might think themselves important and might look important, but in truth, they are superfluous.

Open casting entailed sitting around for a couple of hours and then having your picture taken with a Polaroid by really important person number one. Really important person number two then took your name, address and phone number and asked if you had any previous experience as an extra. We all had worked on Veronica Guerin, The Club and Braveheart apparently. Except me.

I learned my first lessons that day.

Everyone has a title in the movie making world. Important persons one and two were Casting Assistant and Second Casting Assistant. I would hear other titles over the next month. Grip, Art Director, Assistant Director (a lorry load of them, all neatly numbered), Standby Props (he drove a lorry), Focus Puller - Second Unit - Once Removed - And Pushed Sideways a Notch.

The second lesson was how to sit around for hours. I later theorised that extras are chosen based on their ability to do absolutely nothing for 3 hours then spring into action for 3 seconds.

A week later the phone rang. That’s what phones do. Not usually at mid-night but this time it did. Hi, Primal. Can you be in Newbridge Greyhound Stadium tomorrow? Half seven? Yes. Okay. Grand so. Wear a suit.

I arrived promptly and suitably attired at 7:30. And sat drinking coffee and rereading the paper in silence. In silence, as they were shooting right outside the door. Sean McGinley sat quietly puffing a monster cigar reading a book. Actors brought books - extras brought newspapers. He was called, went out, delivered his lines, came back in and sat down again.

I was learning the skill of doing nothing from a great actor and just getting good at it when they called us. At 11:00. Jules, the Art Director, pressed fake notes (embossed with Gerry Adam’s head) into my hand with a stern warning: If you don’t return these, I will personally hunt you down in the dark of night and do all manner of things to you. Looking down at this petite Californian with her deep brown eyes I thought what a pleasant experience that might be.

One of the AD’s (see I was already getting into the lingo) told me to walk down the steps, place a bet with the bookie and walk slowly back checking my docket. One of the actors would bump into me. If he hurt me I was to shout out immediately. A health and safety thing. How the hell is a little fart like him going to hurt me, I asked. I probably won’t even feel him hitting me. Oh, yeah, you’re right. Well when he brushes past, you stagger then. Can you do that? Yes, I’m well known for my ability to stagger.

At 11:45, having suffered the embarrassment of being pushed aside by a midget about ten times, I was told to take a break. But I’ve already had a 3 and a half hour break, I protested. We’ll be calling you again soon, the AD assured me. They did. At 15:00.

But first there was lunch. A van, not unlike something you’d buy chips from, served out the most unbelievable food. A choice of main courses: peppered steak, roast beef, salmon, cod or veggie option. We even got dessert. How 100 people could be fed from such a small kitchen was beyond me. The miracle of the Ford and fishes. The seasoned extras went back for seconds but the chef, being even more seasoned, turned them away. It was like a scene from Stones in his Pockets.

That afternoon the lovely Jules was in trauma. She’d run out of Blu-Tack and there was a sign that simply had to be on a low wall near some steps. MacGyver (that’s me) came to aid of the fair maiden in distress. If I stand here, with my leg lifted and resting on the wall like this, I can hold it up with my heel, I beamed all helpful and horny. Brilliant, Primal! You are my saviour, honey. So I held Joe’s Greyhound Feeds fast for the first few takes. Beginning to tire, I switched legs. The director had a total mickey fit. Everything had to remain the same. Everyone must hold their positions. No moving! I had to keep the same leg raised for the next seven takes. An hour passed. I was in pain by then and when he shouted wrap I relaxed. Too quickly. The left leg buckled, the right one wouldn’t straighten and I crumbled in a heap and rolled down the steps.

The lovely Jules fussed over me. The nurse was called. The lovely Jules and the nurse fussed over me. The lovely Jules and the costume assistant fussed over me. They would have my suit cleaned. The lovely Jules and the extras coordinator fussed over me. I would get bonus money. The lovely Jules and the props assistant fussed over me. I’m not sure why - I never got a stuffed greyhound or anything. And I still have the fake money but never got the promised mid-night visit.

Overall though it was a good day. It was calm, normal and uneventful compared to those to come.