tape on the floor, which you had to reach every single take but without looking down. Casually walk to “hit your mark” as if it was the most natural thing in the world, making sure you stood not an inch away from it. Filming is mechanical; your body has to be at the perfect angle, your eye line hitting the perfect spot, not too far left, not to far right. The crew talked about “crossing the line” which meant that the cameras stayed on one side so you couldn’t double back on an action, or move in the opposite direction, or when it came to the cutting room the scene would be all over the place. Everything took hours to set up. Only two minutes screen time took all day to shoot. I was exhausted and I’d hardly done a thing.
I was so nervous that I hardly had time to study my co-star, who had not been there for the read-through the week before. His name was Cal, aka Jonathon. Like me, he wasn’t a movie star, e.g. was an “unknown,” although he’d done reams of TV series and commercials. He didn’t appear nervous though, had an easy manner and an engaging smile. Thank God. The last thing I needed was some sort of diva.
Cal and I were sitting in my trailer, playing Backgammon. Star had given me a tip before filming began. She told me, “Keep your tablet and phone off set and only glance at messages once a day. You’ll need to concentrate and make friends. Get to know every last person’s name, the gaffers, the grips, and electricians, even the runner. Don’t sit in your trailer alone. Socialize. These people will be your family for the duration of the shoot, and sometimes for life.”
I shook the dice. Two sixes. I smirked.
“You’re on a roll,” Cal said with a wink. “Make the most of it, babe.”
I moved my piece. There was something charming about Cal, so I didn’t mind him calling me “babe.” He was tall and slim but with a worked-out body, and so good looking he looked like a model, but his manner was a touch goofy, like he didn’t take himself too seriously. A kind of brotherly type—perhaps the kind of brother Will could have been if he weren’t emotionally “not quite all there.” I never used the word “mentally handicapped” about my brother—for some reason I couldn’t, I just thought of him as less attuned than most people. But having a normal conversation with Will was not easy. His mind wandered.
“Lucky I’m getting double sixes,” I said to Cal, “because I can hardly concentrate on this game. Shouldn’t we be going over our lines together instead?”
“You heard what Simon said. Wants it to be fresh, not over rehearsed, spontaneous.”
Simon was our director, the one who’d taken Daniel’s place. So far, so good. He was friendly at least.
“I’m just so used to blocking the whole play, scene by scene,” I said. “Not ‘play,’ I mean script, movie, whatever . . . this seems—”
“Surreal?” Cal suggested.
“Yeah, surreal is a good word. I mean, half of me is over the moon, but at the same time I didn’t figure on all this hanging around, waiting to work, while they fiddle with lights and camera angles. I mean, I feel guilty for our poor stand-ins. They must be dying of boredom doing nothing under the lights all day.”
“They’re getting paid for it, don’t feel bad. I was a stand-in, once, years ago—it was my first job in Hollywood. It’s not a bad gig.”
“Oh yeah? Who for?”
“Ashton Kutcher. Orlando Bloom another time.”
I studied his liquid brown eyes, his even features and strong square jaw. “Yeah, I can totally see that.”
“Anyway, they get paid pretty good money and it’s better than a lot of jobs.”
“If Daniel were here, I’m sure he’d be doing it differently.”
“What’s it like working with the great Daniel Glass ?” Cal asked. “I heard he was a bit of a tyrant.”
“He’s strict,” I admitted. “But more because he’s a perfectionist than anything else. He has a vision. Your turn. I just
I was so nervous that I hardly had time to study my co-star, who had not been there for the read-through the week before. His name was Cal, aka Jonathon. Like me, he wasn’t a movie star, e.g. was an “unknown,” although he’d done reams of TV series and commercials. He didn’t appear nervous though, had an easy manner and an engaging smile. Thank God. The last thing I needed was some sort of diva.
Cal and I were sitting in my trailer, playing Backgammon. Star had given me a tip before filming began. She told me, “Keep your tablet and phone off set and only glance at messages once a day. You’ll need to concentrate and make friends. Get to know every last person’s name, the gaffers, the grips, and electricians, even the runner. Don’t sit in your trailer alone. Socialize. These people will be your family for the duration of the shoot, and sometimes for life.”
I shook the dice. Two sixes. I smirked.
“You’re on a roll,” Cal said with a wink. “Make the most of it, babe.”
I moved my piece. There was something charming about Cal, so I didn’t mind him calling me “babe.” He was tall and slim but with a worked-out body, and so good looking he looked like a model, but his manner was a touch goofy, like he didn’t take himself too seriously. A kind of brotherly type—perhaps the kind of brother Will could have been if he weren’t emotionally “not quite all there.” I never used the word “mentally handicapped” about my brother—for some reason I couldn’t, I just thought of him as less attuned than most people. But having a normal conversation with Will was not easy. His mind wandered.
“Lucky I’m getting double sixes,” I said to Cal, “because I can hardly concentrate on this game. Shouldn’t we be going over our lines together instead?”
“You heard what Simon said. Wants it to be fresh, not over rehearsed, spontaneous.”
Simon was our director, the one who’d taken Daniel’s place. So far, so good. He was friendly at least.
“I’m just so used to blocking the whole play, scene by scene,” I said. “Not ‘play,’ I mean script, movie, whatever . . . this seems—”
“Surreal?” Cal suggested.
“Yeah, surreal is a good word. I mean, half of me is over the moon, but at the same time I didn’t figure on all this hanging around, waiting to work, while they fiddle with lights and camera angles. I mean, I feel guilty for our poor stand-ins. They must be dying of boredom doing nothing under the lights all day.”
“They’re getting paid for it, don’t feel bad. I was a stand-in, once, years ago—it was my first job in Hollywood. It’s not a bad gig.”
“Oh yeah? Who for?”
“Ashton Kutcher. Orlando Bloom another time.”
I studied his liquid brown eyes, his even features and strong square jaw. “Yeah, I can totally see that.”
“Anyway, they get paid pretty good money and it’s better than a lot of jobs.”
“If Daniel were here, I’m sure he’d be doing it differently.”
“What’s it like working with the great Daniel Glass ?” Cal asked. “I heard he was a bit of a tyrant.”
“He’s strict,” I admitted. “But more because he’s a perfectionist than anything else. He has a vision. Your turn. I just
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