No, not ‘extra’. The proper term is ‘background actor’. I’ve found out so much on the internet about being an extra, I feel really well prepared. For example, you should always bring playing cards or a book in case you get bored. And you shouldn’t wear green, in case they’re using a green screen for CGI. And you should bring a variety of outfits. Although that doesn’t apply in this case, as apparently our costumes will be provided. A limo has also been provided to take us to the film set, which is definitely not standard practice. They’re being super-nice to us because of Suze being married to Tarkie.
In fact, I’m secretly hoping they might be so nice that they give us each a little line to say. I mean, why not? Obviously not big lines or speeches or anything. Just something small. I could say, ‘’Tis true, cap’n,’ after the Pirate Captain makes a speech. And Suze could say, ‘Land ahoy!’ or ‘Ship ahoy!’ or ‘Pirate ahoy!’ Anything ahoy, really. I’ve been practising a special growly, piratess voice in the mirror, and I’ve read an article on acting for film. It says the most common mistake, even for trained actors, is to over-act, and that the camera picks up the most infinitesimal movements and magnifies them, so you need to make everything tiny.
I’m not sure Suze realizes this, because she’s spent the whole of breakfast doing all these loud warm-up exercises and shaking her hands out to ‘loosen herself up’ and saying ‘Wibble-wobble’ over and over again. But I can’t tell her anything about acting, because she just says, ‘Bex, I went to drama school, remember.’
The film is being shot at a soundstage in Burbank, and that’s where we’re heading right now. Luke is dropping off Minnie at pre-school today, as well as Suze’s children. (As soon as the headmistress found out who Tarkie was, she fell over herself to offer the Cleath-Stuarts temporary places, and the principal of a nearby school immediately found space for Ernest too.) We’re sitting in the limo, watching the billboards speed by and grinning madly at each other. This is the most exciting thing I have done in my life, ever.
I don’t know what the scene’s about – in fact, I don’t really know what the film’s about because all it says online is ‘Drama set on the high seas’. But I’ve done a bit of practice at swinging a cutlass (I used a kitchen knife) because you never know, it might be a fight scene.
‘Hey, Suze, if I have to fight someone, bagsy it’s you,’ I say.
‘Me too,’ agrees Suze at once. ‘Except, will the womenfolk fight? They might just look on and jeer.’
‘There are female pirates,’ I say knowledgeably. ‘We can be one of those. Look at Elizabeth Swann.’
‘I want to fight Captain Jack Sparrow,’ says Suze longingly.
‘He’s not in it!’ I say for the millionth time. Suze is a bit hung up on Johnny Depp, and I think she was hoping that we were going to be in a new Pirates of the Caribbean. But it’s not that. It’s called The Black Flag, and I don’t recognize the names of any of the stars except April Tremont, who is playing ‘Gwennie’.
‘I know he’s not. But still. Wouldn’t it be amazing?’ She sighs.
‘There’ll probably be an even hotter pirate king in this one,’ I point out, as my phone rings. It’s Dad calling, which surprises me. Normally it’s Mum who rings, and then passes me over to Dad, and then instantly grabs the phone back as there’s something she’s forgotten to tell me about Janice’s new sofa covers or the geraniums.
‘Dad!’ I exclaim. ‘Guess what Suze and I are doing right now?’
‘Drinking orange juice in the sunshine,’ says Dad with a laugh. ‘I hope you are.’
‘Wrong! We’re in a limo, going to the film set!’
Mum and Dad already know we’re going to be extras in a movie, because I phoned them up to tell them, straight away. And Janice and Martin. And Jess and Tom, and my old bank manager Derek Smeath …
I suppose I did phone quite a few people, now I think about it.
‘Wonderful, darling!’ says Dad. ‘Make sure you hobnob with the movie stars.’
‘We will!’
‘I was just wondering, did you ever manage to look up my old friend Brent?’
Oh. Damn. What with Golden Peace, and Suze arriving, it completely slipped my mind.
‘Not yet,’ I say guiltily. ‘I haven’t quite had time. But I will, I promise.’
‘Well, that would be marvellous.’
‘I’ll go and see him really soon, and I’ll give him all your details.’
We’ve arrived at a barricaded entrance to a large complex with buildings and courtyards, and as the driver slows down, I see a row of trailers out of the window. Real film trailers!
‘We’re here! There are trailers!’ I say in excitement. ‘Oh Dad, you should see it!’
‘Sounds fantastic,’ says Dad. ‘Well, you let me know about Brent.’
‘I will,’ I say, only half paying attention. ‘See you, Dad.’
The driver is giving our names to the gate man. As Suze and I stare out of the window, agog, I see a man in a pirate costume walk to one of the trailers, knock on the door and go inside.
‘Oh my God,’ says Suze.
‘I know!’ I can’t help giggling.
As we’re whisked into the complex, my head is swivelling this way and that, trying to take in every detail. It’s all just as I imagined. There are girls with earpieces and clipboards. There’s a guy carrying what looks like a marble statue under his arm. There’s a woman in a crinoline, talking to a man in a leather jacket.
‘I’m nervous,’ says Suze suddenly. ‘What if I’m crap?’
‘Nervous?’ I say in astonishment. ‘Suze, you’ll be great!’ The car stops and I squeeze her arm encouragingly. ‘Come on, let’s go and find some coffee. You know, the main thing about being in a film is the catering.’
I’m so right about the catering. After wandering about for a few minutes we find this great big table called Craft Service, covered with a fabulous array of coffee, tea, biscuits, cupcakes and even little sushi rolls. As I’m eating my third cherry-almond cookie, a guy in a headset comes up, looking a little hassled.
‘Are you Lady Cleath-Stuart?’
‘Here,’ says Suze, her mouth full of muffin.
‘I’m Dino, the second AD. You were supposed to meet me out front.’
‘Oh, sorry. We wanted some coffee.’ Suze beams at him. ‘This hazelnut latte is delicious!’
‘Oh. Great.’ He mutters something into a tiny walkie-talkie, then looks up again. ‘Well, let me take you to meet Don. He’s our publicist and he’ll be looking after you today.’
Don is very dapper and has the strangest cheekbones I’ve ever seen. What has gone on with those? Has he had them filled? Or has he had his cheek fat sucked out? Either way, it hasn’t been a success, not that I’m going to mention this or stare at his face. Much. He ushers us into a massive warehouse-like space, and lowers his voice as we pick our way over wires and cables.
‘Lady Cleath-Stuart,’ he says with reverence, ‘we’re delighted to welcome you to the set of The Black Flag. We want today to be as enjoyable and interesting for you as possible. Please, follow me. We thought you’d like to see the set before we take you to Wardrobe.’
Suze is totally a VIP! This is so great! We both hurry after him, dodging past some guys carrying a fake stone wall made out of wood. We head towards a cluster of directors’ chairs and a monitor, and lots of people with headphones and serious expressions.
‘That’s what we call “video village”,’ Don says in an undertone. ‘This is where the director watches the action. Please make sure your phones are switched off. I think we’re about to have a take.’
We edge round until we can see the set properly. It’s the interior of a library, and two actors are sitting on armchairs. The lady is all dressed up in a velvet crinoline and the man is in a tailcoat. Bending down, talking to them intently, is a skinny guy in jeans with bright-red hair.
‘That’s Ant, the director,’ murmurs Don. As we’re watching, Ant leaps back to his chair, pu
ts on his headphones and stares intently into his monitor.
‘Rolling!’ yells someone from the set.
‘Rolling!’ several other people echo at once. ‘Rolling! Rolling!’ Even behind us, by the door, two girls are yelling, ‘Rolling!’
‘Rolling!’ I join in helpfully. ‘ROLLING!’
This is so cool. I feel like a member of the film crew already!
‘Action!’ calls Ant, and, like magic, the whole place becomes totally still. Anyone who was walking has stopped dead, and all conversations have ceased, mid-sentence.
‘Kidnapped,’ says the lady in velvet. ‘Kidnapped!’ The man takes hold of her hand and she gazes at him mournfully.
‘Cut!’ shouts Ant, and leaps down on to the set again.
‘This scene is set in the home of Lady Violet,’ whispers Don. ‘She’s just learned that their daughter Katriona has been kidnapped by pirates. Would you like to go closer?’
We tiptoe forward, till we’re at ‘video village’. There are several directors’ chairs with names printed on the backs of them and I look at them lustfully. I would die to have a chair with my name on it. My mind is suddenly seized with an image of a chair reading: Becky Brandon, Wardrobe Designer. Just imagine if I started working in movies and I got my name on the back of a chair! I wouldn’t ever want to stand up. I’d walk around with my chair stapled to me.
The wardrobe designer on this movie is called Renée Slattery. I’ve already Googled her and planned what I’ll say if we meet. I’ll compliment the costumes in Saw Her Too Soon, which is another movie she worked on, and then I’ll talk about the challenges of working with period dress. (I don’t know much about that, but I can busk it.) And then I’ll ask casually if she needs any help, maybe with shopping for grosgrain ribbon, or button boots, or whatever.
I mean, she’s bound to need help, surely? And then we can start working together and bouncing ideas around, and I’ll edge myself in that way.
Both Suze and I are given directors’ chairs with Visitor written on the back, and we perch self-consciously on them, watching as they shoot the scene twice more. I can’t actually tell the difference between the takes, not that I’ll admit that. Ant keeps swigging coffee and staring into the monitor and shouting instructions to some guy with a high-up camera to the left.
Suddenly he swivels round and stares at me and Suze, then says, almost aggressively, to Don, ‘Who are they? What are they doing on my set?’
Don ducks his head down and I can hear him murmuring, ‘Lord Cleath-Stuart … financier … special guests … studio …’
‘Well, keep them out of the way,’ says Ant brusquely.
Honestly! We’re not in the way! I roll my eyes at Suze, but she has found a script from somewhere and is reading through it, mouthing lines to herself. Suze would really have loved to be an actress. (Or an eventer. Or an artist. Or a newsreader. She’s had lots of career ideas, to be honest.)
‘Dylan!’ The director suddenly raises his voice. ‘Where’s Dylan?’
‘Here!’ A mousy guy in a grey T-shirt hurries forward.
‘This is the writer,’ Don explains to me and Suze. ‘He stays on set in case we need extra dialogue.’
‘We need another line here for Lady Violet,’ Ant is saying. ‘We need to convey the gravitas of what’s happened, but also, like, the dignity of Lady Violet. She’s not going to buckle. She’s going to fight.’ He pauses. ‘Only in, like, three or four words.’
‘Right.’ Dylan is nodding anxiously. ‘Right.’
As Ant strides away, he starts scribbling on a yellow legal pad and I watch him in fascination. He’s creating a film, right here. We’re watching film history being made! Then suddenly an idea comes to me. It’s so good, I almost gasp out loud.
‘Sorry,’ I say, waving to get Dylan’s attention. ‘Excuse me. I don’t mean to interrupt, but a line came to me, and I thought you could use it. It just popped into my head,’ I add modestly.
‘Well done, Bex!’ exclaims Suze.
Dylan sighs. ‘What is it?’
‘With great power comes great responsibility.’ As I say it out loud, I can’t help feeling proud of myself.
‘That’s brilliant!’ says Suze. ‘Only you should say it with more passion. “With great power comes great responsibility,”’ she repeats in a low, throbbing voice. ‘“With great power comes great responsibility.’”
‘Perfect!’ I add to Dylan, ‘She went to drama school, you know.’
Dylan is looking at us as though we’re both insane.
‘That line is from Spider-Man,’ he says shortly.
Spider-Man?
‘Really?’ I wrinkle my brow. ‘Are you sure? Because I don’t remember it—’
‘Of course I’m sure! Jeez!’ He crosses out the line he’s writing and scribbles something else.
‘Oh,’ I say, discomfited. ‘Right. Sorry.’
‘Well then, what about, “With great grief comes great challenge”?’ suggests Suze.
‘Or, “With great trouble comes great fortune,”’ I chime in eagerly. ‘Or, “With great sadness comes great light.”’ I’m quite proud of this one, but Dylan is looking more and more rattled.
‘Could you let me concentrate, please?’ he snaps.
‘Oh, OK. Sorry.’ Suze and I subside, making faces at each other. We watch, fascinated, as he covers his page with writing, then abruptly heads over to Ant.
‘How about this?’
‘OK. We’ll try it.’ Ant walks on to the set and I can see him showing the page to the actress in the velvet dress.
‘Why don’t you just take the line to the actors yourself?’ I say as Dylan sits down.
‘I don’t approach the set.’ He sounds shocked at the idea. ‘The director approaches the set.’
He sounds like he’s saying, ‘I don’t approach the throne.’ Blimey, film sets are complicated places. ‘So, I hope you enjoyed your visit,’ he adds, clearly forcing himself to be polite. ‘It was nice to meet you.’
‘Oh, we haven’t finished our visit yet,’ I explain.
‘We’re going to be in the film!’ adds Suze.
‘We’re extras!’
‘You?’ He looks from me to Suze and back again.
I’m about to say he needn’t look so dubious, when Ant appears, scowling at Dylan, and chucks the legal pad at him.
‘Yolanda says this is flaccid, and I agree. Can’t you do better than that?’
Honestly. What a bully. I bet Dylan’s written a brilliant line. (Although not as good as ‘With great power comes great responsibility.’)
‘I was distracted by these two,’ says Dylan meanly, gesturing at us, and my sympathy instantly evaporates. He didn’t have to blame us! We were trying to help! Ant glowers at us, then glowers even more at Dylan.
‘Well, give me some more options. We’re taking five.’ Ant strides away, and Dylan frowns over his legal pad again, chewing his pen. The atmosphere is quite tense, and I’m relieved when Don appears and beckons us away from the chairs.
‘The actors are having a break,’ he says. ‘So I thought you’d like to look over the set before we head to Wardrobe.’
We follow him to the set, and step cautiously on to the carpet. We’re standing on a real movie set! It’s quite small, but really well designed, with shelves of books and a table with ornaments and a fake window with a velvet curtain.
‘Excuse me,’ says Don as his phone buzzes, ‘I must take this call.’
He steps off the set, and Suze sits on Lady Violet’s chair. ‘Kidnapped,’ she says in a mournful voice. ‘Kidnapped!’
‘Really good!’ I say. ‘D’you think Lady Violet’s dress is a bit bunchy? I think it could be more flattering. I might tell the wardrobe person.’
‘Kidnapped!’ says Suze again, and stares out to the camera, extending her hands as though she’s on a massive London stage and that’s the audience. ‘Oh my God. Kidnapped! Will our nightmare never end?’
‘Everything looks so realist
ic,’ I say, trailing my hand over a row of fake book spines. ‘Look at this cupboard.’ I rattle the door but it’s stuck fast. ‘It looks so real, but it’s fake, like everything.’ I wander over to the little table. ‘I mean, look at these cakes. They look totally real. They even smell real. It’s so clever.’
‘They might be real,’ points out Suze.
‘Of course they’re not real. Nothing on a film set is real. Look.’ I lift one up confidently and take a bite out of it.
Shit. It was real. I have a mouthful of sponge and cream.
‘Bex!’ Suze is staring at me in consternation. ‘That cake is in the film! You can’t eat it!’
‘I didn’t mean to!’ I say defensively.
I feel slightly outraged. They shouldn’t have real cakes on a movie set. It goes against the whole spirit of the thing.
I look around, but no one seems to have seen me. What shall I do now? I can’t put half a cake back on the table.
‘OK, we’re going again,’ comes a booming voice. ‘Clear the set!’
Oh God. The actors are returning and I still have half a cake in my hands.
Maybe they won’t notice.
I hastily leave the set, my hands hidden my back, and find a place where I’m almost hidden behind a stone pillar. The two actors are sitting back down on the chairs and everyone is gathering for a new take.
‘Wait a minute.’ A girl dressed all in black comes running on to the set. She squints into the screen of a little camera, then peers at the table. ‘What happened to the other cake?’
Damn.
The actors are looking around blankly, as though they hadn’t even realized there were any cakes in the shot.
‘Cake?’ says the man at last.
‘Yes, cake! There should be six!’ She jabs at her camera screen. ‘What happened to it?’
‘Well, don’t look at me!’ says the man, sounding affronted. ‘I never saw the cake.’
‘Yes you did!’
‘I think there were five,’ says the actress playing Lady Violet.
‘Excuse me,’ says the girl in black tightly. ‘If I say there were six, then there were six, and unless you want to reshoot everything we’ve done this morning I suggest you don’t move the props around.’
Shopaholic to the Stars Page 18