Lights, Camera, Extra
I almost snapped sitting at home this week. I have a serious problem that after I’ve done my work, if I don’t have auditions or shoots, my brain turns on itself. I decided that writing fully caffeinated in my apartment with the curtains drawn like a strung-out coke head wasn't healthy. I needed to fill my days between auditions and make some side money. I was going to try being an “extra.”
For anybody reading this who’s not in Hollywood, being an extra is that nondescript guy/girl in the background of a TV/movie scene who’s waiting for the bus, tying his shoelace or talking quietly at the table behind the lead actors. There is a stigma regarding extra work. Some thespians consider it the dregs of the acting world, and I was warned by a former manager to “be careful what you share, perception is everything.” Fortunately, I stopped caring how people see me or my career. So I’m going to write about my experiences this past week and feel free to judge away!
Signing up for extra work is easy. You go to Central Casting, a large agency in Burbank, and it’s like being in the Hunger Games. You wait with a crowd of actors in an overflowing lobby to fill out your registration and get your picture taken. The whole process sucks, and I was proud I got through it.
I had my first extra job last Wednesday. It was for this TV show called “Stumptown” on ABC. Firstly, I had never heard of this show in my life, and I only realized it was network television after I got to set and Googled it on my phone. My call time to show up was 6:30 a.m., which meant I had to leave my house at 5:45. It was forty-degrees, and I stood shivering with a line of “extras” outside a wardrobe trailer.
I’m NOT bragging and just trying to keep it real. If I’m on set, I’m usually booked as principal talent. It was strange not having anyone rush me to a warm breakfast table and then get spoiled in a hair and make-up chair. Instead, I waited patiently as the wind sliced through my clothes until the wardrobe guy finally got to me.
“What did you bring?” he barked.
“What I’m wearing?!” I said, pointing to my blue hoodie and jeans.
I wore what was on the recommended list for my "character type" and didn’t realize that I had to bring optional clothes for him to choose from. He rolled his eyes and threw a green hipster jacket at me from his trailer.
“Here! Put this on!”
We were transported by vans to a breakfast truck (we were well fed!) and then to our first shoot location. Some extras were actors, but many were ordinary people who did this for a living. Their years of experience prepared them well. They were layered in warm winter clothing and carried snacks and lounge chairs like they were going camping at Joshua Tree.
Our first location was outside a coffee shop because the show takes place in Portland and apparently everybody drinks coffee 24/7 in the Northwest. Me and another guy named Petey were assigned to walk back and forth on the sidewalk, on the opposite side of the street from where production was shooting.
Petey looked like a cholo gangbanger who was recently paroled. Oversized sunglasses covered most of his face. He had a shaved head, two gold earrings, ripped clothes and a colorful Q-Bert tattoo etched on the side of his neck. He bragged to me that he had a “mechanical engineering degree,” but in the same breath, said that he worked at Taco Bell when he wasn’t an extra.
“Yo homes, how long you been an extra for?”
“This is my first day,” I said.
He rested his spider-webbed tattooed hand on my shoulder and smiled like I was his new prison bitch.
“DIS IS YOUR FIRST DAY?!” Let me break it down for you how dis works. First you be an extra. You do dis for a couple of years and do a good job. Then if you get lucky, you get to join da UNION. Da UNION is for real actors who go to Julliard or fancy schools like that. After that, you be on a TV show and make a shitload of money!”
“That’s how I get on TV?” I asked.
“You ain’t listening! You gotta be in da UNION! That’s the most important step!”
“You mean SAG? I’m already a part of it,” I said.
Petey took off his sunglasses and eyed me in disbelief like he was being Punk’d.
“I thought you said dis is your first day?”
“As an extra, but I’ve been acting for many years. I’ve done a few TV guest-stars.”
My SAG card blew Petey’s mind. He called me out to a few of his friends standing nearby.
“YO, THIS MOTHERFUCKER IS IN THE UNION! CAN YOU BELIEVE THIS SHIT?!”
Being an extra on Stumptown was OK. I felt like a lost sheep, walking back and forth mindlessly on a sidewalk. I also almost missed a commercial audition that I got from my agent that day, which came in last minute. I swore to myself that being an extra was a one and done thing. I would never do it again.
Cut to Friday night. I forgot that my friend’s friend was a movie producer, looking for extras on a feature film, and I sent in my headshot and resume two weeks ago. I got an email from the production coordinator that the film was shooting on Saturday, and I was selected to be a glorious extra. On the bottom of the email it read, “SAG ACTORS ONLY.”
“Well, it is a Saturday, and I won’t be missing any auditions. Plus, all the extras are SAG (in da Union) so maybe that will filter out the gangbangers. What do I have to lose?” I said to myself.
My call time was 8 a.m. (thank God not any earlier), and I found out that it was for this movie called “Greenland” with Gerard Butler. The movie didn’t have a crazy budget, and the extras were a smaller group. The location manager, or whoever he was, was nice to us, and we were herded to a back room until shooting started. There were a few notable differences between this movie set, and the TV job I did on Wednesday.
For starters, Gerard Butler, the lead actor, came out, and this guy looks like a REAL MOVIE STAR. In the comedy world, you have your pecking order, whether you like it or not, that I find irritating - Joe Rogan, Chris Delia, blah blah blah. And then I saw Gerard, and he blows comedy stars out of the water. He looks like he was carved in stone from the mountains of Mt. Olympus. And he has this magical glint in his eyes that sparkles when you look at him. I now understand when casting directors say he/she has '“it.” I was trying to decide if I was biased because I remembered him as a ferocious Spartan leader in the movie “300,” but my mind was made up when I saw his face light up the playback monitor. He’s the real deal.
I stood two feet behind Gerard during one of the scenes, and he did several takes without complaining. I took mental notes in case I ever get an opportunity to carry a movie of this magnitude. Everyone was nice but some “SAG extras” were as delusional as the non-actors from Stumptown, but on the opposite end of the spectrum. This is actual dialogue I overheard between two extras between takes.
“Hey dude, is there any movie role you think you could have done just as good a job as the actors on screen?”
“That’s easy. Tom Hardy in Warrior, Edward Scissorhands, and Dr. Jones in Indy (Indiana Jones)”
“You have range man!”
I almost lost it when he said Edward Scissorhands. He might as well have thrown in the T-Rex from Jurassic Park. He basically said that his acting is on par with Tom Hardy, Johnny Depp and Harrison Ford. But then I thought, perhaps his self-belief is mandatory to make it in Hollywood? I don’t think I’m anywhere close to those actors. Maybe that’s why I’m doing extra work on a Saturday and not happily married, on the cover of People Magazine, embracing my wife and two kids while petting a golden retriever. Afterwards, I went home and meditated over this.
And so here I am, writing about these fresh experiences, trying to make sense of it all. You might be asking, what did I learn from being an extra? Absolutely nothing.
I would have moved back to New Hampshire had I done extra work during my first week in Hollywood and witnessed the level of craziness and insane competition. I do, however, respect anybody who goes after their dreams. We all have to start somewhere and being an extra is an opportunity for actors, new and old. This town will rip your guts out and leave you for dead in a pool of your own blood. You have to somehow muster the strength to pick yourself back up again and again.
Last night, I thought about my self-worth as an actor and as a person. I don't think the public knows me aside from a few South Asians who remember me from a web series I did twelve years ago or random TV appearances that get me hot for a brief second and then disappear just as quickly.
I primarily learned my craft from making my own films, and was blessed to work with great actors and directors over the years. Whether I’m an extra or maybe one day win an Academy Award, the only thing in my control is showing up and being the best Tarun Shetty.
I don’t have any other choice.