Scott Glenn walked right past us and peered down the stairs to the basement bar where we would film. He was skinnier than the sadistic cowboy he played in Urban Cowboy , slighter than Alan Shepard from The Right Stuff . All conversation stopped, but I could sense each of the extras was jumping up and down and screaming for an autograph somewhere deep inside. We waited.
Finally the assistant director looked us over and paired us. Valerie and I were a couple. We were led downstairs to the bar and told to sit at a table. "Background shouldn't be talking," the assistant director said. We had graduated from "extras" to "background," and silence for us was golden. My job was to pretend I was a drunk trying to hit on Valerie. We were to have a conversation, but when we moved our lips, no sounds were allowed to come out. Glasses of colored water were placed on the table in front of us (our drinks were even acting!). Denzel Washington and Scott Glenn sat down two tables away. Rolling. Sound. Background (that was us). Action.
Denzel was a military official of some kind, Scott a sleazy reporter. Cut. "Why is the air conditioning still on?" the assistant director asked. Take two. This time the coffee pot was making noise. Take three. Valerie and I talked up an imaginary storm. I pretended to sip my drink, Valerie--a method actor--actually drank half of hers. Again and again we pantomimed our hearts out, me with the back of my head toward the camera. I tried to angle my head as much as possible. After all, this was my big break.
Five takes later it was lunch time. Background waited while the crew got first dibs on food under the big tent in the parking lot. By far the biggest perk of being an extra is the food. Beef steaks and shark steaks sizzled on the grill, five kinds of pasta, exotic veggies, banana splits. My fellow extras and I piled our trays high. A group of empty chairs surrounded Scott Glenn and the director. We thought about it, but chickened out and sat one table away.
After lunch we were back on the set. Valerie and I stared deeply into each other's eyes and mouthed our grocery lists, the roster of the Dallas Cowboys, anything. Finally the director yelled, "Cut, print," and we were done. I was told to change clothes and be ready to play another part. A crew member led me to my car and selected a new shirt for me. I stayed with the green jeans. I did a lot more waiting.
I started exchanging notes with the other extras and learned that a few of them were veterans. The retiree rolled off a list of film credits, Valerie had an agent and considered it the perfect second job given the flexibility of a writer's schedule. The other virgin extras and I asked questions, took notes. "I could do this for a living," Pete said and snacked on free cookies.
We were called back to the set. My new role was Telephone Guy. I was at the other end of the bar this time, behind a swinging door, talking silently on the telephone. I had broken the law of physics. I would be in two places at once! The back of my head would be in one area of the room, my hazy figure would be in another. This was the same scene as before, only concentrating on Denzel. Between takes he rested his head on the table, eyes tightly shut. The director urged him to try the next take differently. Then the next. I mouthed into the telephone and watched. "That was good, but let's do one more," the director said. This time Denzel Washington and Scott Glenn hit the higher plane of acting. I stopped pretending to squawk into the receiver and watched. The entire crew stared on in awe as real life formed out of props and would-be writers flapping their lips in the background. Cut. Print.
The crew hired a bartender and turned the fake bar into the real thing for a celebratory party. Extras silently signed their time cards and headed home. Scott Glenn walked up as I was about to leave. I asked him to pose for a picture with me. He agreed and I tossed the camera to Pete. Glenn put his elbow on my shoulder and smiled like we were lifelong pals. Click. I wonder if Scott knows of a good agent.
Follow-up: the back of Joe-O's head is featured prominently in the second bar scene. Telephone Guy was nothing but a fuzzy mess.