At last, all that sweaty
work is ‘extra’ special

Robyn’s Hood
By Robyn McCloskey

A few columns back I told the story of how I completely embarrassed myself by falling flat on my face in full view of cast and crew while working as an extra on the set of the latest M. Night Shyamalan film, The Happening.
As it turns out, there is more to tell. I have been doing background work for about three years now and just recently completed my 10th film. But it still stands that my experiences on the set of The Happening remain the most memorable.
Not just because Night is such a kind and gracious man. Not just because of the abundant and scrumptious food. Not just because of the interesting people I met. But because it was the first time that I was singled out for a few scenes, much to my chagrin.
Part of the filming took place outside in the sprawling farmlands of Pennsylvania during last September’s unbearable heat wave. It was a fun, relaxed set where everyone worked hard despite the searing temperature. By my third or fourth day of filming I noticed that the number of us extras was dwindling, and it wasn’t from the heat. (If you’ve seen the movie you understand why.) Turns out I found myself in scenes containing less and less people.
Typically, while on a movie set, there are so many other background actors involved that I literally get lost in the crowd. Interestingly enough, since I have been working in movies, I have come to the realization that I am the only extra content just being an "extra."
I do not clamor for the attention of the camera. I have no delusions that some director is going to point at me and claim that I am his next big star. I have no real acting ambitions . . . or real acting talent, for that matter — I’m just happy for the work.
Until the recent release of The Happening, I’d yet to be seen on camera, which is more than fine by me since I still get paid and still have access to the food, which are pretty much my two priories. But M. Night Shyamalan, in what can only be described as a moment of temporary insanity, chose to use me for a few close-ups. And so it was that I found myself staring straight down the barrel of a gun . . . I mean camera. But it wasn’t until Night said, Robyn this frame is all you, that panic began to set in.
But you don’t understand, I can’t be seen on camera right now, I’ve been sweating outside in 107-degree heat all day and my makeup is melted off my face and my hair is frizzy from the humidity and my nose is sunburned . . . please, please, please don’t put the camera on me now!
Turns out that hot, sweaty and gross was the look he was going for. It was the complete opposite of Gloria Swanson’s portrayal of Norma Desmond in the 1950 Billy Wilder film-noir classic, Sunset Boulevard, because I was in no way, shape or form ready for my closeup.
But since Night couldn’t possibly hear the desperate pleas swirling around in my head (he may be able to see dead people, but as far as I can tell, he can’t read minds), filming continued. The one good thing I can say about my performance that day is that I miraculously managed to finish without falling flat on my makeup-less face.
While on vacation a few weeks ago, my husband suggested we go see The Happening. I was a bit hesitant but figured there would be no better time, since we were literally out of the country. It was all very unsettling, sitting in a darkened theater surrounded by strangers and seeing my sweaty mug up on an 8-foot screen.
When I first appeared, my daughter Mallory and I fell into such a fit of giggles that my husband had to shush us, more than once. This reminded me of yet another scene from Sunset Boulevard. The one in which William Holden, as lead character Joe Gillis, recognizes Norma Desmond.
You’re Norma Desmond. You used to be in silent pictures. You used to be big.
I am big. It’s the pictures that got small.
Unfortunately for me and my melted makeup, frizzy hair and sunburned nose, not small enough. ••
Robyn McCloskey’s column appears each week in the Northeast Times. She can be reached at crmccloskey@verizon.net