My Day with Denzel

I recently worked as an extra on the film "Flight," filming in Atlanta, directed by Robert Zemeckis and starring Denzel Washington, Melissa Leo, Don Cheadle and John Goodman. I hadn't been on a movie set in a long time. I'd forgotten how tedious the whole process can be, but was grateful for the work. I showed up in a downtown parking lot at six AM wearing business attire and carrying a garment bag with two alternate outfits. Buses ferried some 250 people to the holding area, a ballroom at the Marriott Marquis Hotel. We were screened by wardrobe and make-up. I was told to change my shirt and tone down my lipstick. Clustered around tables, the actors waited a few hours before one of the ADs (assistant directors for background) called the first group of us to the set. Breakfast was provided (oatmeal) and lots of people were chowing down, knowing it would have to last them till a late lunch.

I use the term actor loosely, as many, if not most of these folks had no major experience in the profession. A couple of people sitting with me were taking acting classes or otherwise trying to round out their thespian resumes. But the majority were just along for the ride: schoolteachers, landscapers and line cooks. Plenty of them were no doubt on unemployment and saw the gig as an easy way to pick up some extra cash. The prerequisites were simple: send a picture and vital stats to the casting director. The parents of some of the twentyish kids who had worked on "Vampire Diaries" were among the crowd. I spoke to one woman about my age who appeared to be a pro at this sort of thing. I was networking, digging for information about other local jobs. She gave me the names of some contacts, then admitted, "I've only been doing this for five months."

Eventually I ended up in a line comprised of people "born before 1975." Off we went to the set, a large conference room with rows of tables and chairs. We were surrounded by guys hanging and adjusting lights, cameramen and make-up artists. Assistants began distributing props: notebooks, manuals and Dell computers. We were told to remain quiet, but an insufferable man behind me maintained a running monologue that lasted all day long, innumerable details of this jerk's "career" in the movie biz. The stand-ins for the stars were in their places while the crew fine-tuned the atmospherics. Finally, about 11 o'clock, in walked Melissa and Denzel. Two Oscar winners whose characters were at odds during the scene. Denzel was every bit as gorgeous as he is on celluloid. His role was a pilot who saved an airplane from crashing. Melissa played the head of the NTSB board, questioning Mr. Washington like a prosecuting attorney.

Denzel looked and behaved like a total professional, a class act. It was clear as he sat in the hot seat that he was in character, repeating certain movements, mannerisms and tics before the cameras even started to roll. Melissa did vocal warm-ups and stretched. Then we were rolling and heard "Action!" Our job was to react to the riveting footage playing on jumbo screens, a reenactment of the crucial moments leading up to the safe landing of the aircraft. We listened intently as Melissa probed Denzel's decision-making process during the almost-doomed flight. This went on, with the exception of a couple of five-minute breaks and a half hour for lunch, for fifteen excruciating hours.

We didn't wrap until shortly before nine. Then we had to stand in line another thirty minutes to have our vouchers signed so we'd get paid. What was frustrating about the experience was one of the actors, who shall remain nameless, flubbed lines, mispronounced words, lost track of where we were in the script and generally kept screwing up. This star gets several million for the picture, while I sat in the peanut gallery earning a whopping $8 per hour.

I drove home that night knowing that the ultimate test of an actor is working in the theater. When we make mistakes we have to ad lib our way out of the glitch. We don't have the luxury of unlimited takes. Our pay rate is far below what we're worth. But we act in real time, show up prepared, with one shot at getting it right, eight performances a week. We work, like daring acrobats, without a net.