This is a day that is met with both excitement and sadness, since it is my last day filming. That's probably the best thing for the dress, since it could become quite rank after a few more hot days.
Breakfast was on time and I was able to meet my driver without incident. Immediately went to make up upon arrival, dressed in costume, returned to hairdressing to complete my 1920s look and returned to my trailer. According to my call sheet, I was supposed to be on set at 8 a.m. instead, I was able to relax for several hours, waiting for my turn. At approximately 10:30, I was called on to set and they had completely transformed the hallway. The only thing visible at the secretarial end now was my desk and chair and the beautifully appointed antique desk. This was my scene with just the simple one line. It was a lot of fun because, once my line was finished, I was able to be used as background for the balance of the scene where the soldiers come up the stairs.
My balloon-making friend was there to meet me and gave me the two CDs he had on balloon making, with a reminder to say hello to Dave Bartlett, clown extraordinaire, for him. It's an absolute dream to be working on a George Clooney set. Everything is run with precision, quiet, and thorough professionalism. The days are for work and the nights are for rest and relaxation. There is no question in my mind that Mr. Clooney knows exactly what he is doing, at all times.
Having been an actor, himself, as well as acting in this movie, he is very much aware of the feelings of the performers and treats them with as much dignity and respect as the technical professionals expect to be treated. I was told that when the movie started George told his entire crew that there would only be one person hollering on the set, and that would be him. There was no excuse for anyone else hollering or making scenes during his movies. I never once heard him lose his temper and he always had a smile for everyone, regardless of position or function on the set. A gracious man towards everyone.
In fact, everyone displayed courtesy, friendliness, and respect towards each other. There were no outbursts of foul language, fighting, or temper tantrums, that I could observe during my three days with the film, and this was toward the end of an arduous and grueling filming period. Tomorrow, I go to the real world again and working with independence, lower salary, and who knows what. I tried to catch everyone that I had worked with to thank them for their attention to my comfort and hope to see them again.
After lunch, I returned to the set just in case there was something else for me to do. I learned a long time ago to not leave a live set until I had been formally dismissed. I really couldn't see any need for my services, since everything that had to do with anything I was doing in the film had long since been removed. But, I was not going to leave without permission. George had command and I knew he saw me, albeit, he didn't greet me but continued directing his following scenes. After about three hours, I decided it didn't matter whether or not I got his picture, I was simply going to let the executive producer know that I would be leaving the set. Well, once I told the executive producer that I couldn't see any reason for me to stay and that I would be leaving he told me to not leave the set, if I didn't mind, until they actually were ready for me to go, since they weren't sure. I had no problem with that.
Within the hour, George called a wrap to the day and I decided I would try to catch him and see if I could get a picture. But, I wasn't going to make a big deal of it. He was coming down the stairwell as I came around the corner and I took advantage. I simply told him that I was grateful for the opportunity he had given me and, if possible, would he be willing to let me have a picture of us in our costumes. He asked if I had a camera and I told him I did. He immediately asked the executive producer to take our picture, put his arm on my shoulder and -- I had my souvenir. I decided to treat myself to a final dinner at the Outback. I wanted a great meal to support a great memory.
Showing posts with label performance. Show all posts
Showing posts with label performance. Show all posts
Wednesday, May 9, 2007
Saturday, May 5, 2007
Leatherheads - Weekend Breather - Day Two
This was an easy day. Nothing to do but amuse myself. After a great night's sleep, I wandered down to the lounge area for the free breakfast. While it was very filling, I decided that tomorrow morning I would actually take myself off to either the IHOP or some other restaurant to have my eggs cooked the way I prefer. The hotel eggs were baked and thoroughly cooked. Great for feeding hordes of hungry folk but no way to get anything prepared individually. This is not a Hampton Inn fault. I simply prefer my eggs done differently, so I need to take myself out.
Wandering up and down the halls looking for the ice machine, I notice that each and every door has a unique rural picture placed just above the room number. Every other room on my floor has an inanimate object; mine, however, has a cow over the Liberty Bell. I choose to believe management was not sending a subliminal message to me.
I decided to stretch out my day. Returned to my room and caught up on articles that had to be submitted to Bella Online. Spent an hour, or so, going over my lines for different interpretations. Reread the script and clarified my notes. This kind of hard work deserves a reward. Time to treat myself to an early matinee before coming back to watch the Kentucky Derby at the Outback.
The movie I decided to see was Blades of Glory with Jim Ferrel. Since the rest of the world was watching Spiderman 3, two other couples and I shared a private showing. It turned out to be a really funny movie with some great ice skating by Ferrel. I had read somewhere that Jim had done a lot of skating in his youth, so this was a great opportunity for him to display his gift.
An hour before the Kentucky Derby bugle call, I went to the Outback to enjoy a meal while watching the race. My choices were Street Sense followed by Nobizlikeshobiz. Was there any better sight than Street Sense feeding the rest of the field his dust?
There was only one sour moment, when I was ready to kill, and that was not two minutes before the race started. I had been dining in my booth for more than 45 minutes waiting for the race to start, when a group of four walked in and decided to stand right in front of me, blocking the television. I really had to bend my body for any kind of view. My server noticed, came over, and asked what was wrong. I asked why these new folks could stand right in front of me to watch the race, rather than sit in an available booth. Since I had paid approximately $40 for my meal and they bought $2.35 worth of beer, how come they were able to come in at the last minute and block my view. Since they were almost right on top of me, at least one of the women in the group heard me and she moved them back out of my line of sight.
She apologized and I accepted her apology, but it should have seemed obvious to almost anyone that you can't stand immediately in front of somebody watching a television without blocking their view. And, to walk into a place as if you own it, without regard to anyone else, is just plain rude.
But, all's well that ends well. My horse came in, the meal was fantastic, and this was a day to simply do a little of this and a little of that.
Wandering up and down the halls looking for the ice machine, I notice that each and every door has a unique rural picture placed just above the room number. Every other room on my floor has an inanimate object; mine, however, has a cow over the Liberty Bell. I choose to believe management was not sending a subliminal message to me.
I decided to stretch out my day. Returned to my room and caught up on articles that had to be submitted to Bella Online. Spent an hour, or so, going over my lines for different interpretations. Reread the script and clarified my notes. This kind of hard work deserves a reward. Time to treat myself to an early matinee before coming back to watch the Kentucky Derby at the Outback.
The movie I decided to see was Blades of Glory with Jim Ferrel. Since the rest of the world was watching Spiderman 3, two other couples and I shared a private showing. It turned out to be a really funny movie with some great ice skating by Ferrel. I had read somewhere that Jim had done a lot of skating in his youth, so this was a great opportunity for him to display his gift.
An hour before the Kentucky Derby bugle call, I went to the Outback to enjoy a meal while watching the race. My choices were Street Sense followed by Nobizlikeshobiz. Was there any better sight than Street Sense feeding the rest of the field his dust?
There was only one sour moment, when I was ready to kill, and that was not two minutes before the race started. I had been dining in my booth for more than 45 minutes waiting for the race to start, when a group of four walked in and decided to stand right in front of me, blocking the television. I really had to bend my body for any kind of view. My server noticed, came over, and asked what was wrong. I asked why these new folks could stand right in front of me to watch the race, rather than sit in an available booth. Since I had paid approximately $40 for my meal and they bought $2.35 worth of beer, how come they were able to come in at the last minute and block my view. Since they were almost right on top of me, at least one of the women in the group heard me and she moved them back out of my line of sight.
She apologized and I accepted her apology, but it should have seemed obvious to almost anyone that you can't stand immediately in front of somebody watching a television without blocking their view. And, to walk into a place as if you own it, without regard to anyone else, is just plain rude.
But, all's well that ends well. My horse came in, the meal was fantastic, and this was a day to simply do a little of this and a little of that.
Friday, May 4, 2007
Day One on Location
After making sure that everything was taken care of at home, I eagerly set off for my wardrobe fitting at Leatherheads' wardrobe department in Statesville. What a delightful experience. Everyone I met was warm and friendly and made me feel very much at home.
The accounting office was enormous, yet, quietly hummed with efficiency. It was obvious that everyone knew their job and knew how to do it well. Whatever else, Mr. Clooney knows how to run a business.
When Wardrobe took me down to the living room to show me the choice of costumes, I immediately fell in love with a black dress that had a pointed lace insert. "That's the one I want," I told them. "Oh, no. There are several you will have to try on and we can make a decision, after that," she said. Being a good little soldier, that's what I did.
Well, the gods that be were smiling down on me, this morning. The only dress that fit me properly and would require absolutely no adjustments was the very one I wanted with all my heart and soul. After the choice was made, they let me know that it was the only one that had been imported from London and was a special favorite of everyone in Wardrobe.
The newest thing I discovered about filming was the requirement for either a physical social security card or your passport to verify citizenship. I thought I would have to go back home to get my passport because I had long since swallowed my Social Security card. (In the old days, we were told to memorize our number and then hide our card in a very safe place so that no one else would ever see it. I couldn't think of any place safer than mother Earth.)
It was only after much commiseration between me and their payroll rep, along with my giving my best sad hound dog impression, that I remembered a little card I had been given when I last renewed my passport. It looks just like a little credit card, so that you can carry it in your wallet, but it has all the right information on it that you need to give over to the authorities if you happen to lose your real passport while visiting another country. I asked some of my friends if they also had the duplicate card and most of them said they did not. So, I suggested they write to the US passport office and get one.
Before I could finally settle down, there was one more glitch. Even though my name was on the master list for a room at the hotel, I was the only one who didn't have a room. I called my contact and they sent someone over within 10 minutes to take care of it. Accommodations are beautiful and I was right across the street from a new multiplex theater, so I was able to catch up on all the films I had missed in the last couple of weeks.
I decided that the best way to settle in for this experience was to start with a nice, hot, bubblebath, and catch up on some much needed sleep.
The accounting office was enormous, yet, quietly hummed with efficiency. It was obvious that everyone knew their job and knew how to do it well. Whatever else, Mr. Clooney knows how to run a business.
When Wardrobe took me down to the living room to show me the choice of costumes, I immediately fell in love with a black dress that had a pointed lace insert. "That's the one I want," I told them. "Oh, no. There are several you will have to try on and we can make a decision, after that," she said. Being a good little soldier, that's what I did.
Well, the gods that be were smiling down on me, this morning. The only dress that fit me properly and would require absolutely no adjustments was the very one I wanted with all my heart and soul. After the choice was made, they let me know that it was the only one that had been imported from London and was a special favorite of everyone in Wardrobe.
The newest thing I discovered about filming was the requirement for either a physical social security card or your passport to verify citizenship. I thought I would have to go back home to get my passport because I had long since swallowed my Social Security card. (In the old days, we were told to memorize our number and then hide our card in a very safe place so that no one else would ever see it. I couldn't think of any place safer than mother Earth.)
It was only after much commiseration between me and their payroll rep, along with my giving my best sad hound dog impression, that I remembered a little card I had been given when I last renewed my passport. It looks just like a little credit card, so that you can carry it in your wallet, but it has all the right information on it that you need to give over to the authorities if you happen to lose your real passport while visiting another country. I asked some of my friends if they also had the duplicate card and most of them said they did not. So, I suggested they write to the US passport office and get one.
Before I could finally settle down, there was one more glitch. Even though my name was on the master list for a room at the hotel, I was the only one who didn't have a room. I called my contact and they sent someone over within 10 minutes to take care of it. Accommodations are beautiful and I was right across the street from a new multiplex theater, so I was able to catch up on all the films I had missed in the last couple of weeks.
I decided that the best way to settle in for this experience was to start with a nice, hot, bubblebath, and catch up on some much needed sleep.
Tuesday, May 1, 2007
Murphy's Law When Film Fame Calls
I have been wondering what was wrong -- why haven't I heard from the Letterheads' wardrobe department. In fact, in my insecurity, I have decided that they don't really need me and don't know how to tell me. This is patently absurd. I can't imagine anyone more capable of telling someone they don't need them, then a movie company. This is a business of rejection.
So, it was with great delight that I got the call on Wednesday asking if I couldn't come down on Friday for a fitting because they had forgotten to schedule me a few weeks ago, and there were no fittings allowed on shooting days. I would be filming on the following Tuesday through Wednesday, but they would put me up starting Friday. Time to hustle, get packed, and pay some bills.
Everything went smoothly until I tried to pay my Nextel bill online. This is something I have done regularly for the past year, or so. Without a glitch. Without a snag. Done in a second. So, I should expect the same experience, right? Suffice to say, in a word, that didn't happen.
Like most of those secured sites, Nextel has a page where you submit your payment, only once, and wait for the screen to clear giving you a confirmation number. Of course, that didn't happen. I made my payment, clicked submit, and then -- waited, interminably. I was able to leave my computer and accomplished other tasks, returning occasionally to check, only to find that the screen was still static. Finally, I simply closed the window, cross my fingers that the payment went through and was delighted to find a confirmation page pop-up on my screen. It's a good thing I have a high tolerance for stress.
And, it's a good thing that was the only online bill I had to pay.
Monday, January 29, 2007
Dead Man Walking School Theatre Project In My Life
Innocently uttering just four little words, "Okay, I'll do it," a short while ago, I set in motion a path for myself that has drawn me into deep reflection. Performing on stage, film, and clubs, for the better part of my life, this new role was accepted without worry but little background with its significance.
My agreement in reply to a friend's request to play the Mother in a production she was involved in and which she buffered with, "You know, just a few lines here and there --but it's a good play and you'll be helping the kids out . . ." How could I refuse?
What I had agreed to was participation in The Dead Man Walking School Theatre Project, the adaptation by actor and director Tim Robbins of Sr. Helen Prejean's award-winning book, "Dead Man Walking." In addition to the award-winning film, Mr. Robbins has created a powerful drama but -- contrary to most playwrights -- only allows productions through college and high-school theater partnership programs that include community outreach with workshops meant to explore how people feel about the death penalty through examination of their own belief systems. For what one community has done with the project in New Orleans, go here.
Well, the "little bit" I'm doing has grown into three small parts -- Mother of Sr. Prejean, a reporter, and a support group attendee -- along with scene-balancing "landscape" tableaux with the other actors also playing multiple roles. Not impossible; been done, before -- BUT, we are never allowed to leave the stage! It seems that our Director for the February 1-10 Cardinal Gibbons High School production loves this form of theatre and we get to do it, in spades!
Woe is me! I've discovered that age is definitly creeping up. Not as limber as I've been, my feet are screaming by the end of rehearsals. Of course, that's probably because rehearsals seem to take forever. The actual show is over before you know it!
Once you have performed in a Justice Theater Project, you are a member for life! So, I'll be leading a couple of workshops, once the play run is over as part of my outreach service. This is not proselytizing -- no pressure for anyone to change their beliefs, simply a forum to examine them and know why they feel as they do about the death penalty. (This is definitely when I wish I were 18, again. I knew everything, then! and decisions were so much easier.)
We open Thursday, which is just about when I'll have everything memorized!
My agreement in reply to a friend's request to play the Mother in a production she was involved in and which she buffered with, "You know, just a few lines here and there --but it's a good play and you'll be helping the kids out . . ." How could I refuse?
What I had agreed to was participation in The Dead Man Walking School Theatre Project, the adaptation by actor and director Tim Robbins of Sr. Helen Prejean's award-winning book, "Dead Man Walking." In addition to the award-winning film, Mr. Robbins has created a powerful drama but -- contrary to most playwrights -- only allows productions through college and high-school theater partnership programs that include community outreach with workshops meant to explore how people feel about the death penalty through examination of their own belief systems. For what one community has done with the project in New Orleans, go here.
Well, the "little bit" I'm doing has grown into three small parts -- Mother of Sr. Prejean, a reporter, and a support group attendee -- along with scene-balancing "landscape" tableaux with the other actors also playing multiple roles. Not impossible; been done, before -- BUT, we are never allowed to leave the stage! It seems that our Director for the February 1-10 Cardinal Gibbons High School production loves this form of theatre and we get to do it, in spades!
Woe is me! I've discovered that age is definitly creeping up. Not as limber as I've been, my feet are screaming by the end of rehearsals. Of course, that's probably because rehearsals seem to take forever. The actual show is over before you know it!
Once you have performed in a Justice Theater Project, you are a member for life! So, I'll be leading a couple of workshops, once the play run is over as part of my outreach service. This is not proselytizing -- no pressure for anyone to change their beliefs, simply a forum to examine them and know why they feel as they do about the death penalty. (This is definitely when I wish I were 18, again. I knew everything, then! and decisions were so much easier.)
We open Thursday, which is just about when I'll have everything memorized!
Get Well, Soon, B.B.King!
B.B. King, (81! and still performing!) had to take a few days off to recuperate from a bout of the flu this past weekend. I know this is going to cost him some concert dates, but, more than that, it's going to cost us the Thrill of seeing him perform as much as possible before he has to leave us and entertain the angels.
What can you say about a man who has been given such a beautiful gift, that hasn't been said, before? I did have the thrill of meeting him, personally, more than 15 years ago, at a music convention in Anaheim. He was gracious and giving to all the young musician hopefuls bombarding him with questions about the "secret" of his success. Secret? That's an easy one -- he loves Lucille (probably, more than anything (one?) else. She's his life, his music, his soul food and she returns the favor by singing, oh, so sweetly, when in his hands.
Last month, he received the Presidential Medal of Honor at the White House. President Bush simply shared what we already know, "America loves the music of B.B. King, and America loves the man, himself."
Hurry up and get better, B.B. The world needs you; America needs you; I need you.
What can you say about a man who has been given such a beautiful gift, that hasn't been said, before? I did have the thrill of meeting him, personally, more than 15 years ago, at a music convention in Anaheim. He was gracious and giving to all the young musician hopefuls bombarding him with questions about the "secret" of his success. Secret? That's an easy one -- he loves Lucille (probably, more than anything (one?) else. She's his life, his music, his soul food and she returns the favor by singing, oh, so sweetly, when in his hands.
Last month, he received the Presidential Medal of Honor at the White House. President Bush simply shared what we already know, "America loves the music of B.B. King, and America loves the man, himself."
Hurry up and get better, B.B. The world needs you; America needs you; I need you.
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