stane walls of the houses were fibreglass facades. Held up with wooden frames, there was nothing behind; they were two-dimensional. Some of the grassed areas were actually artificial turf – even the cabbages they had planted were plastic. Amidst the lighting and camera hardware set out in front of the village, the crew, in fleeces and Gore-Tex jackets, stood staring back at us.
Clipboard Guy stationed groups of extras behind each of the fibreglass facades, sorting us into what seemed to be families. Me and the kids along with Walter, Danny and an old lady, became onesuch unit. Rachel was perhaps not the first person to notice our demographic but she was the only person to comment. Developing her theory out loud she explained that Walter and Jean (the old lady) were grandad and granny, she and the rest of the kids were the kids, obviously, and, lastly, to my huge embarrassment, Danny and I were daddy and mummy.
‘Ok folks,’ Clipboard Guy – whose name turned out to be Tristan – said placidly, ‘take it easy for now; it’ll be a while before the scene’s ready to shoot.’
I wondered why they had brought us up if they weren’t ready. We could easily have waited on the buses. It was sheltered down there. Up here a sharp breeze blew across the hill.
‘Now,’ said Tristan, ‘can everyone see that man over there?’ He spoke to someone through his earpiece and a figure behind the cameras began to wave at us. ‘Ok, keep your eye on him and when he gives you the signal, take your shoes off and leave them here.’
The kids looked to me for clearance on this. I looked to Danny – he was, after all, a seasoned film actor – but he shrugged lightly. It must be ok. I nodded.
‘Keep watching him, and when everything’s ready, he’ll give you another signal. This time you’ll run out through that doorway and down towards the cameras. Don’t stop; keep running until you’re told to stop and whatever you do, don’t look at the camera, ok?’
I mulled this over, but everyone else agreed it was ok.
‘Remember, you’ve just woken up, you’re tired.’
The kids, used to playacting, began yawning and stretching.
‘That’s it,’ he said, ‘but your house is on fire so you have to get out quick. You’re screaming, you’re crying. You’re running for your lives.’
At this the kids began to squeal and rush around.
‘You’ll be great,’ said Tristan, moving off to the next house, ‘just don’t look into the camera.’
‘Danny,’ I whispered so that little ears wouldn’t hear, ‘what did he mean by “your house is on fire”?’
Danny laughed and shook his head. ‘No. There won’t be any actual fire. It’s shot digitally.’
‘Aww, not fair!’ Rachel and Michael grumped simultaneously.
‘CGI?’ Walter asked, showing off.
‘Yeah,’ said Danny, ‘they’ll add the flames post production.’
Taking their cue from the bigger ones, all the kids sighed and slumped in disappointment. I sighed too, with relief. With Jan off elsewhere, swanning around in his fancy breeches, I was on my own. Solely responsible for the safety of these eight small children. Up a hill in a soggy field. With no shoes on. Running around electrical equipment. In the dark.
But at least we weren’t required to pass through a flaming building. I had a horrible image of one of the kids catching fire, their skin bubbling as their long flowing nightshirt turned them into a human candle. Thank God for CGI. There wasn’t going to be any actual fire, everything would be fine…
Chapter 24
Take after monotonous take we did it, over and over again; running out on an adrenaline high and then hanging around behind the facades, bored and tired, for what seemed like hours. The first time the problem wasn’t technical, it was one of the extras. No one in our family, one of the other houses. An old man, stage-struck and a bit too stoked, got his signals mixed up. While everyone else was removing their shoes, he ran screaming
Clipboard Guy stationed groups of extras behind each of the fibreglass facades, sorting us into what seemed to be families. Me and the kids along with Walter, Danny and an old lady, became onesuch unit. Rachel was perhaps not the first person to notice our demographic but she was the only person to comment. Developing her theory out loud she explained that Walter and Jean (the old lady) were grandad and granny, she and the rest of the kids were the kids, obviously, and, lastly, to my huge embarrassment, Danny and I were daddy and mummy.
‘Ok folks,’ Clipboard Guy – whose name turned out to be Tristan – said placidly, ‘take it easy for now; it’ll be a while before the scene’s ready to shoot.’
I wondered why they had brought us up if they weren’t ready. We could easily have waited on the buses. It was sheltered down there. Up here a sharp breeze blew across the hill.
‘Now,’ said Tristan, ‘can everyone see that man over there?’ He spoke to someone through his earpiece and a figure behind the cameras began to wave at us. ‘Ok, keep your eye on him and when he gives you the signal, take your shoes off and leave them here.’
The kids looked to me for clearance on this. I looked to Danny – he was, after all, a seasoned film actor – but he shrugged lightly. It must be ok. I nodded.
‘Keep watching him, and when everything’s ready, he’ll give you another signal. This time you’ll run out through that doorway and down towards the cameras. Don’t stop; keep running until you’re told to stop and whatever you do, don’t look at the camera, ok?’
I mulled this over, but everyone else agreed it was ok.
‘Remember, you’ve just woken up, you’re tired.’
The kids, used to playacting, began yawning and stretching.
‘That’s it,’ he said, ‘but your house is on fire so you have to get out quick. You’re screaming, you’re crying. You’re running for your lives.’
At this the kids began to squeal and rush around.
‘You’ll be great,’ said Tristan, moving off to the next house, ‘just don’t look into the camera.’
‘Danny,’ I whispered so that little ears wouldn’t hear, ‘what did he mean by “your house is on fire”?’
Danny laughed and shook his head. ‘No. There won’t be any actual fire. It’s shot digitally.’
‘Aww, not fair!’ Rachel and Michael grumped simultaneously.
‘CGI?’ Walter asked, showing off.
‘Yeah,’ said Danny, ‘they’ll add the flames post production.’
Taking their cue from the bigger ones, all the kids sighed and slumped in disappointment. I sighed too, with relief. With Jan off elsewhere, swanning around in his fancy breeches, I was on my own. Solely responsible for the safety of these eight small children. Up a hill in a soggy field. With no shoes on. Running around electrical equipment. In the dark.
But at least we weren’t required to pass through a flaming building. I had a horrible image of one of the kids catching fire, their skin bubbling as their long flowing nightshirt turned them into a human candle. Thank God for CGI. There wasn’t going to be any actual fire, everything would be fine…
Chapter 24
Take after monotonous take we did it, over and over again; running out on an adrenaline high and then hanging around behind the facades, bored and tired, for what seemed like hours. The first time the problem wasn’t technical, it was one of the extras. No one in our family, one of the other houses. An old man, stage-struck and a bit too stoked, got his signals mixed up. While everyone else was removing their shoes, he ran screaming
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