Background Acting sure beats a "Regular" job!

Simple Stuff Really Hollywood Milieu ©2010

Written by Denny Dormody

Here’s a real life scenario: You work a day job you detest. You work with maybe five people in Office Space type cubicles. You wouldn’t invite those losers to lunch. You wouldn’t invite those losers to an execution. You certainly wouldn’t invite those losers to your home. You certainly wouldn’t invite those losers to your funeral.

You know your current office accommodations are against the Geneva Convention for a prisoner of war. You’re leading a life of quiet desperation. You can’t speak up. You’ve become a gutless wonder. Your boss brags about his latest ‘hot’ date. Truth be told, his date started as a she, but ended up as a he. But, that’s another story. It could be worse.

You could still be at the counter at Radio Shack, the only guy there that speaks English as a first language. Or still be working in the prison laundry. Remember starching those Grey work uniforms? Thank God for Governator Arnold’s early release program. Late at night, when the demons come, I’m still coughing up those starch fumes. By the way dude, I need you to return my Barry Manilow CD’s. Good times.

Now that I’m acting in the background and trying to sell our comedy screenplays to the suits, my life has taken a tryst for the better. Since I bailed on that day job, as they say in the movies, I have a New Deal. A new deal and a new 24/7 job as an actor. Every new day there are new colors to play with in the sandbox:

Sunday. I’m sitting at home reading a frayed copy of The Police Gazette. My cell phone chirps out a ring tone of So What, an awesome riff from Miles Davis. I pick up. It’s Chris, a background buddy. “Are you still ballroom dancing?” Two days later. I’ve got a dance gig. Time-Life brings you the Greatest Hits of the 50′s and 60′s.

A small supper club set. My date is another ballroom dancer. A wonderful surprise. Manhattan Transfer is on set. “Hi, we’re Manhattan Transfer. Remember the great songs of the 50′s and 60′s?” A coffee break. I’m talking trash with Manhattan Transfer. I saw them perform in Sydney in the late 70′s. Later my dance partner and I twirl around as the credits role. Lunch. Manhattan Transfer. Dancing close with a babe. $250 for the day. I get my check in two days. I ask you. This is a great job or what?

Monday. I’m working a pilot. I’m in our holding area or in our ‘scolding’ area as some background extras describe it. Our holding area is sort of like a green room for background actors. We are on the 51st floor of a building in downtown LA. As the sun slowly rises and sets, we are treated to a sun and shadows look at the freeways and twinkling lights. We can see Catalina Island in the distance. A gourmet lunch. How much would this food and this view cost in the real world? A lot.

[ad#HTML-1]A Goodyear blimp hovers over the city. What a view. After lunch I’m in the foyer of an office suite. I’m playing a lawyer. Between the shots Titanic’s Billy Zane walks through the lighting set ups and disappears. Just another day at the office.

Tuesday. A Diet-Coke commercial. Heidi Klume struts her stuff along a runway.

Wednesday. I cross in front of L-Word’s Jennifer Beals and Pulp Fiction’s Tim Roth.

Sunday. Bar atmosphere. A NYU graduate thesis film, shooting interiors in LA.

Monday. Warner Bros. A veteran day player character actor. We’re chilling between takes. He puts acting into sharp focus. “Actors have got to go out on a limb. Have a survival part-time job, job that means nothing to you. A job you can pick up and put down and not even think about.” You couldn’t buy this education.

My day jobs with no passion, are history. I’m an actor now. Like almost every actor that lives in LA, I’m reinventing myself. Every day. Every way. Promoting 24/7. Facebook is my friend. My goals: Pay the bills. Speaking lines. Trophy wife. Beach frontage in Malibu. Simple stuff really.

Denny Dormody is a Los Angeles Times Magazine published comedy writer and author of Riding the Hollywood Glacier. dennydormody@gmail.com

Written by Denny Dormody

Blades of Glory with Will Ferrel and John Heder

She’s small but loud. Small but obnoxious. She’s one of the wardrobe ladies from hell and we are moving out of her way.

We are the background extras. I don’t even have a pulse yet. It is 5:30 am. This promises to be about five days of work, so we are patient. We are waiting. You do a lot of waiting here in the movies. Here in LA.

We’re at USC, the University of Southern California, the great football school and site of so many Hollywood film shoots. About a block away is The Shrine Auditorium, also the location of many movie locations, the recent SAG awards and host to the Grammy Awards and the Academy Awards. Luckily, it’s located right off the 110 Freeway and only a few freeway minutes from Burbank.

This is Blades of Glory with SNL’s Will Ferrell and Napoleon Dynamite’s Jon Heder. The Hollywood log line or industry one-sentence description of the plot would be: Two troubled world-competitive skaters, banished from the international skating association join forces and seek redemption. Sweet!

This is big budget with a cast of thousands. In LA-speak that means about 750 background extras. I’m a face in the crowd. A face now waiting for the wardrobe gestapo lady to darken my door. She talks loudly for all to hear, admonishing those that didn’t bring the correct wardrobe with them. A small coterie of flunkies follows her around like a lap dog.

She stops in front of a lady that has brought a heavy winter coat, a scarf, a hat and rubber boots. The wardrobe Gestapo clears her throat and loudly announces “This lady brought the right wardrobe, write down her name, as we’ll be featuring her today.” She continues her rounds looking at everyone like a grade-school teacher that is so, so disappointed with her pupils for not bringing the right clothes to school. I call it day-care management. I counted that she would be “featuring” about 500 of us today. Oh Yeah. Sure.

I have to stay positive if I’m going to get through the next five, 15-hour days. I always say, you couldn’t buy this entertainment. Where else could you find such a condescending character? As a writer, I couldn’t be in a better position. Here’s another character you meet on these movie sets that you couldn’t even imagine. As an actor in training, I’m watching and remembering her every move. She’s quite an actress. You couldn’t buy this education.

I have my pay voucher in hand and scrape together the last of the scrambled eggs in the buffet tubs that Craft Service catering has provided for breakfast. I wash down the last of the Winchell’s Donuts with steaming coffee that I brought with me. I’ve been on too many sets that have no coffee, no hot breakfast and almost nothing to eat. Most do. Some don’t. I always have hot coffee. I always bring my own.

A head PA or Production Assistant does a head-count on 200 of our fellow extras. He leads them through the cavernous LA Sports Arena. I silently merge into the lemming-like cattle call. I prefer to work than to sit around for hours waiting on the next shot. We are led to the front outside entrance to the area. Lights are lit. Cables are snaking across the sidewalk in front of the ticket office. Phony snow is on the ground. A hurricane fan is swirling the snow all over creation. We hunker down in our winter coats, winter boots, winter scarfs and gloves. The LA summer temperature is a cool 92 degrees.

The scene: Ferrell’s character is kicked out of the skating association for drunken behavior. The ice show is going on regardless. He shows up and tries to disrupt the family ticket-buyers. Will Ferrell is wearing a brown snake skin jacket.

He rants and raves. A bouncer-type security guard tries to restrain him. He throws a classic Ron Burgundy style Will Ferrell temper tantrum. Take one. Take eight. Cut. Checking the gate. New deal.

New deal means a new camera set up. The 200 extras and 135 crew members move back inside the Sports Arena. All the cables, lights and three or four Panavision cameras also have to be moved back inside for the next shot.

The logistics of putting winter wardrobe on 750 people and feeding them is a task the military would find daunting. This is day one of five days. Lunch is called. Later that day Will Ferrell barfs on the ice in front of shocked families watching an ice skating show. I play a fake Dad and shield my daughter’s eyes from the carnage. Days pass.

Long days. Morning into night days. We are exhausted. Our checks are in the mail.

The Shrine Auditorium near USC in Los Angeles

It’s our final shooting day. As we break for lunch I notice a few familiar faces seated in the audience. I know I’ve worked with these guys before. I recognize a face from Seabiscuit. There’s a lady I know from The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. I shake a few hands. I give a few hugs. The lady dummies, mostly. These are the inflatables. Inflatable dummies that look like real people. These guys are absolutely the greatest. Producers love these people.

[ad#HTML-1]Inflatables don’t arrive on-set stoned or drunk. They never talk. They never have to be fed. They never ask for bathroom breaks. They usually have their own wardrobe. They never raid the Craft Service catering munchies. They never ask for a pay check.

I realize some of these same inflatables may be on the cover of my first book Riding The Hollywood Glacier. Inflatables can actually be seen during the interviews on the Blades of Glory extra features DVD. Great to see these guys again. It’s a small world.

P.S. I’ve worked on a few other shows with the wardrobe lady mentioned. It turns out when you get to know her, she’s a sweetheart. She always compliments me for bringing the right wardrobe.

Denny Dormody is a Los Angeles Times Magazine published comedy writer and author of Riding the Hollywood Glacier. dennydormody@gmail.com

Written by Denny Dormody

There’s not much to Fresno, California. Not much sitting looking at the four walls of The Vagabond Inn just off the Interstate. I can hear the din of the traffic as trucks shift gears as the moon and sun slowly trade places. Still I’m glad to be here. Here waiting for the 5:15 AM. shuttle to take us to the set. The set of the “Genre project.” The bus arrives. The bus gears groan into the still-dark morning. Some fog. A few minutes later we arrive.

Fresno Airport California Circa 1968

A wave of fog clears. A sign appears. The Fresno Airport. As we get off the shuttle bus, some of us head to wardrobe. I head to the craft service catering area for breakfast. A guy I’ve worked with before says, “Hey, I saw you last night on Curb Your Enthusiasm.” We shake hands. We talk. We network. As we inhale our breakfast we are whispering.
The whispering is all about today’s location shoot. On this show, it’s always been about whispers. A few weeks back at Western Costume the Hair and Makeup signs said “Genre.” The white vans shuttling we background extras around had “Genre” signs. Our paychecks had “Genre” on them. You know the Genre Project by its worldwide box-office name: Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull.
Indiana Jones IV. The movie gods and goddesses have smiled down once again. I lucked out, again. I’m happy to be here. A wardrobe guy in jeans with a plaid shirt is handing out our ’57 pre-fitted costumes. I’m a baggage handler dressed in blue.
Hair okays my hair. Makeup pancakes me and okays my makeup. I’m ready for my close up. My close up is hours away. 320 cast and crew members haven’t landed yet. Their plane is en route from LAX. The sun also slowly rises. The paparazzi also slowly rise. A gaggle of photographers is peering through a chain link fence, like LA cops looking for a Java and jelly donuts fix through a window at Winchell’s Donuts.
An hour passes. We head to set. We’ve heard rumors and more rumors. Who? What? When? Where? How? The rumors evaporate as we round the corner and head out onto the tarmac. A large Pan Am plane is being towed into the shot. Pan Am stewardesses are dressed as they did back in 1957. A baggage rack complete with scratched and scrapped luggage is being pushed by a man with a tan fedora walking behind the luggage.
It’s Harrison Ford, strutting his Indiana Jones stuff. He looks great. He looks at the top of his game. The rumors are over. We are working on Indiana Jones, the Temple of Whatever. No time to text message our insignificant others now. It’s time to go to work. In the distance and coming closer I hear a voice. A very distinctive voice. It’s Adam.
[ad#HTML-1]Adam has a cockney accent and is the 1st AD or Assistant Director. He is the arms and legs and heart of his director. He calls out to us, my co-baggage handler and set-buddy Gene. As we arrive he lowers his bullhorn. “Stand over here mates” he advises.
I say “Adam, I’m Denny. I’ve worked with you on Seabiscuit and War of the Worlds. Great to see you again.” Adam has a million details on his mind and the walkie-talkie stuck in his ear is giving him death-defying instructions every two seconds. He doesn’t remember me from a bar of soap. He graciously says “Great! Lads, stand over here.”
We stand near the airplane’s oval baggage compartment. We’re handed an old fashioned tape measure. We measure the length and width of Indiana Jone’s mud spattered motorcycle as it is wheeled into the shot. A couple of period cars and an ambulance are wheeled into the shot. Fill lights are lit. We begin blocking the shot. Ten feet away, a guy with a lens viewfinder is watching our every movement. It’s Steven Spielberg.
We do a dry run on the shot. A murmur begins to ricochet around the set. The walkie-talkie earphones are buzzing. There’s a pregnant pause. A second second assistant director makes the announcement “All background, back to the holding area.” The shot is canceled. We are all disappointed to say the least. Crushed might be a better word.
Still dressed in our 1957 costumes we board a small shuttle bus. In moments we’re back sitting under the tents. We talk. We walk. We wait. Lunch is served. We follow set protocol and let the cast and crew go through the buffet chow line before we extras eat.
Sitting together under the tent, the cast and crew and background extras are joined by a special guest. He sits opposite Harrison Ford and begins talking. They have a lot in common. The special guest is George Lucas.
It takes about three hours for the bus to return to LA. On the apron of a parking structure, a production guy signs out our pay vouchers. On location. A day up; and a day back. It took about three minutes and I was on I-5 heading south to home.

We may not have been in the shot and certainly not in the final cut, but this was one great day on-set with the movie gods: Spielberg, Ford and Lucas.

Enjoy your iTunes movie download.

Denny Dormody is a Los Angeles Times Magazine published comedy writer and author of Riding the Hollywood Glacier. dennydormody@gmail.com

But Miles is about to get something he will never forget from Special Agent in Charge, Glenn Jenkins of the FBI who has had enough of the type of Miles. But can the Feds take this sleazeball down before the lecherous Miles get’s his claws into the beautiful young Shannon, a hopeful southern actress who is willing to do whatever it takes to become a “Real” actress.
Casting Shadows is a video short from RuffHouse Studios.

httpvh://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4Uv7-r-tLeg

Written by Denny Dormody

I’ve walked through snow on these streets. I’ve actually slept on these streets. These aren’t the mean streets on the wrong-side of Crenshaw Boulevard here in LA. These are the New York mean streets here in Burbank. The mean streets on the back lot at Warner Brothers.

How many times have I walked these streets? Let me count the ways. As a cop on ER I’ve wandered the store fronts, armed with a plastic weapon. I’ve played a high school principal visiting with grieving students on the Midwest street after one of their own was killed in a freak accident on The Ghost Whisperer. I know these back lot streets, like the back of my hand. When I walk these streets I feel calm and at peace. Like when a babe loves only you and your six-pack. Only you and your six-pack of Bud Light.

I’ve sat at a fancy restaurant on Embassy Row nursing a glass of phony red wine on the now-gone short-lived vampire show Midnight. Nearby on French Street, I shook hands with singer-songwriter Dave Mathews, after his make-up call on Zohan.

Aerial View of Warner Brothers Image by HeliPhoto.net

I’ve had a few fake brewskies inside Ike Ryan’s Irish Pub. Once, while sitting across the street from Ike Ryan’s, I fell asleep. I’m dozing off on the curb in front of the famous theater facade. Imagine me, dozing off! It was a 14 hour day on ER, an almost all-niter and at 330 am on a Saturday morning, I took a quick cat nap to recharge the acting batteries.

The parking lot. Near Gate 7. Off Forest Lawn Drive. I played a UFO Roswell geek convention fan. A convention of geeks with pen protectors big and small, complete with alien autopsies on The Sarah Connor Chronicles.

For TV’s Without a Trace, I’ve driven my car in a twenty-car traffic loop on Warner Brother’s Hennesy Street around the corner from ER’s Chicago Jumbo Mart.

Stage 23. The West Wing’s Requiem for John Spencer. President Martin Sheen shakes hands with all the background extras. What a guy. A few seasons earlier. Stage 18. The West Wing had been ‘picked up’ for a second season. Actors and extras all toasted with bubbly champagne in Dixie cups. [ad#HTML-1]

Batman Returns. Early background work. I needed to cauterize my cash flow. Gotham City. It’s winter. Overcoats. Scarfs. The air conditioning is on so high, you can see your breath. Nasty shape-shifter Christopher Walken speaks to the citizens. Friends. Romans. Machine-gun toting Harlequin clowns arrive on bicycles and add madness to the mayhem. The stunt guys told us to let them do the heavy lifting in the scene. We did.

Lately, on these streets and all across this cool lot I’ve worked as a background extra on Aussie Simon Baker’s detective TV show The Mentalist.

From James Cagney’s The Public Enemy to Humphrey Bogart’s Casablanca to Bette Davis’s Now Voyager to Jame Dean’s Rebel Without a Cause to Clint Eastwood’s Million Dollar Baby to George Clooney playing Danny Ocean in Ocean’s 11, the Warner Brothers back lot glows with the magic of stories well told. This is one cool place.

Another cool place or places: The screening room in the shadows of the WB water tower where I saw Invictus weeks before anyone else. The commissary with lunch time computer and wi-fi access. A great place to g-mail acting submissions to LA Casting. The WB museum with memorabilia, like scripts from The Departed and props from the Harry Potter movie franchise. The WB Mill store with DVD discounts. The Brooklyn brown stones on Ashley Avenue. Phony streets. Phony store fronts. I feel right at home.

I’m going to keep acting. To pay my bills. To put food on the table. You know, I’m going to keep walking these mean streets. You know these mean streets, aren’t so mean after all.

Denny Dormody is a Los Angeles Times Magazine published comedy writer and author of Riding the Hollywood Glacier: dennydormody@gmail.com

Written by Denny Dormody

I’m finally working on a feature directed by Garry Marshall. This guy is the man as far as romantic comedies go. Pretty Woman, Beaches, The Princess Diaries, and soon, State of the Union with Richard Gere. All crafted by comedy curmudgeon Garry Marshall. This is Valentine’s Day. He sure has stacked the deck with some A-list, rocket-fuel talent: Julia Roberts, Ashton Kutcher, Anne Hathaway, Shirley McClaine, Jamie Foxx, Patrick Dempsey, Hector Elizondo. Me.

I’ve been trying to get on this show for eons. A surge in unemployment has flooded Central Casting’s inbound phone job-lines. If you can’t get through, you can’t get a job. Smiling. Dialing. One hour. Finally, I’m through. I’m on the call. Downtown LA.

Downtown LA’s Flower Mart. Years earlier Garry Marshall was here shooting Frankie & Johnny, a sweet story with short-order cook Al Pacino and lonely waitress Michelle Pfeiffer. One of my favorite movies ever. One of Garry’s best and least appreciated movies ever. A comedy screenplay by playwright Terrence McNally. Heart tugging. Sensitive. What great art is all about. That was then; this is now. This is today. Garry Marshall is channeling director Frank Capra. Again. It’s a joy to be here.[ad#HTML-1]

This is the money shot. A cast of thousands. We, the background extras are here. All 425 of us. Claustrophobia City. This is like Ellis Island on a bad day. It’s early. Like 5am. The porta-johns are in place. A damp circus tent is our home for the day. I can see the beads of sweat on the scarred canvas as the July LA sun slowly rises. It’s going to be a scorcher.
I follow my golden rules of acting, as chronicled in my first book Riding The HOLLYWOOD GLACIER
Glacier, write this down: Get your pay voucher. Eat. Act. I inhale some scrambled eggs. Wardrobe okay’s my ‘look’ as a flower mart shopper. I shake hands with the flotsam of perspiring, I mean aspiring actors. I’m proud to work with my fellow Background or B.G. actors. It’s early. As always, I bring my own cup of Java. It’s how I roll.

Winchell’s Donuts. Most mornings. 4-5am. The night-guy is usually knee-deep in flour, like a Midnight kabuki and wipes down his apron and pours me some wake-up juice. I’m a movie star. Er, movie extra. I don’t have a trailer today? I’m so, so sick of living in that van down by the river. Didn’t they get the memo? OMG. It’s lonely at the top.

Military intelligence via my iPhone reveals on IMDB that Valentine’s Day is a series of intersecting characters that show the obsession of love lost and love found, every February 14^th. The crew is finished rigging the lights. Film is being loaded into “A”, “B” and “C” cameras. I’m ready for my close up Mr. Marshall. This flower mart is huge. I mean huge like a Howard Hughes airplane hanger.

First the Master Shot: The crush of Valentine’s day. Frantic shoppers are buying up every flower left in LA. A cast of thousands is milling in front of the Flower Mart. As we are placed, I instinctively move inside the building. I’d rather work inside on this hot sunny day in Southern California. Inside means I won’t have to worry about sunscreen and hoping that the medic has brought some. This is big budget so there there should be no sunburn worries, if we work outside.

However, I’ve worked on shoots where there is no medic and certainly no sunscreen and you can look forward to a painful red ‘look’ at the end of the day. This is different. This is a Garry Marshall movie and an ocean of sunscreen is in the budget.

I see the action. I’ll be crossing and looking at all the flowers as a Stedi-Cam operator follows actor Ashton Kutcher as he enters the flower mart. Rehearsals are up. I’m about ten feet from Video Village, the location of the camera monitors. The Red Sea of background extras respectfully part the waves as Garry Marshall walks and talks with his crew members and heads back to his director’s chair.

Rehearsal is up. Rolling. Cut. Going again. We are reset. It must look real. It must look natural. Too many people in the back. Too many people in the front. Too many women. Too many men. Seven takes. We nail it. Field marshal, Marshal, smiles. He likes the last take. He and his 1^st AD sing out “Good work everybody.” We all smile. Thanks boss. You couldn’t buy this education.

Lunch. One hour. We are back. Rolling again. Ashton Kutcher is walking through the back entrance to the flower mart and jumps on board a metal flower dolly and sings at the top of his lungs. I pretend to be looking for flowers and cross just behind the dolly. I hope I make the final cut on this shot. It looks like some fun business. Here’s hoping.

New deal. More milling and crossing as we shop for Valentine’s Day. We background actors are now going into overtime hours. It’s been two hours, heading into three hours of double time. Suddenly, it’s over. Our shots are finished. A day of working under the watchful eye of the top romantic comedy director on the planet is over. You really couldn’t buy this education.

We are wrapped. We slump into the shuttle bus seats. Back to the parking lot. A hot day in LA. Long hours. Long takes. Just another day at the office? Well, better than that. Another day at the office, working for Garry Marshall, here in Hollywood. By the way, Happy Valentine’s Day.

Denny Dormody is a Los Angeles Times Magazine published comedy writer and author of Riding the Hollywood Glacier. dennydormody@gmail.com

Well crazy or not some really famous stars appeared on camera as an extra before going on to stardom. It is a low paying and sometimes terribly  boring job but for some the experience has been very rewarding in the end. A recent television show interviewed employees of Central Casting in Los Angeles. The Casting Director listed some of the famous people who belonged to Central Casting at one time. Those famous people include: Clint Eastwood, Casey Affleck and Eva Longoria. That’s right, Dirty Harry himself struggled to make it and was a background actor (uncredited, as all background actors are) in the 1950′s before finding success in the 1960′s. Below is a list of more famous celebrities who worked in the background before being put into the spotlight.

Many actors who became celebrities began their careers as extras in other productions*. For examples check out these famous former extras:

• Ben Affleck and Matt Damon served as extras during the Fenway Park scenes in Field of Dreams.
• Brad Pitt was an extra in Less Than Zero.
• Rudolph Valentino appeared as an extra in several films.
• Gloria Swanson was an extra in The Song of Soul in 1914 before featuring in many Charlie Chaplin films.
• Noel Coward appeared as an extra in Hearts of the World.
• Shirley Temple appeared as an extra in several films before she was signed to a long-term contract with Fox Studios.
• Bruce Willis appeared as an extra in the final courtroom scene in the film The Verdict.
• John Wayne appeared as an extra in a number of silent films during the 1920s.
• Brian Cox was an extra in various episodes of The Prisoner.
• Clint Eastwood worked as an uncredited extra in a number of movies in the 1950s before becoming a star in the late 60s.
• Dennis Hopper used to work as an extra before starring in Rebel Without A Cause.
• Fred Zinnemann was an extra in All Quiet on the Western Front before he became a film director.
• David Niven appeared as a Central Casting extra in many Hollywood films before going on to become a leading man.
• Patrick Macnee was an extra in The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp.
• Terry-Thomas was an extra in many British films before becoming a star.
• Trevor Bannister was an extra in Reach for the Sky.
• Michael Caine and Oliver Reed both acted as extras in British films of the late 1950s.
• Dave Clark was an extra in the Judy Garland film I Could Go On Singing.
• Pattie Boyd appeared as an extra in The Beatles’ film A Hard Day’s Night.
• Phil Collins was an extra in A Hard Day’s Night.
• David Bowie was an extra in The Virgin Soldiers.
• Bob Hoskins was an extra in the Frankie Howerd film Up the Front.
• Robin Askwith was an extra in an episode of Randall and Hopkirk (Deceased).
• Dick Cavett was an extra in The Phil Silvers Show Bilko.
• Julian Sands appeared as an extra in an episode of the British TV series Minder.
• Kara Tointon was once an extra in EastEnders before later creating the character of Dawn Swann in the soap.
• Adam Brody was an extra in American Pie 2 before gaining a long-term role as Seth Cohen on The O. C..
• Jackie Chan was an extra in Bruce Lee‘s Fist of Fury and Enter the Dragon. Jackie Chan was still a teenager at the time of filming.
• Sylvester Stallone was an extra in Woody Allen’s Bananas (1971) as a subway thug, in the Jane Fonda psychological thriller Klute (1971) as an extra dancer in a club, and in the Jack Lemmon vehicle The Prisoner of Second Avenue (1975) as a youth.
• James Michael Tyler began his career in the TV sit-com Friends as an extra behind the bar at Central Perk. His role then grew into the character ‘Gunther’.
• Heath Ledger was an extra in the Australian film, Clowning Around.
• Cuba Gooding Jr. was an extra in Coming to America as a customer in the barber shop.
• Jean Harlow was an extra, along with her mother, in several silent films during the late 1920′s.
• Norma Shearer worked as an extra in New York during 1919 and 1920, as did her mother Edith and sister Athole.
• Mary Astor was an extra in several silent films in the early 1920s, mostly westerns.
• Renee Zellweger was an extra on Dazed and Confused. She played one of the hazed freshmen girls.
• Robbie Williams was an extra in Eastenders.
• Megan Fox was an extra in Bad Boys 2. She was a dancer in an early club scene.

Hollywood Milieu ©2009

Written by Denny Dormody

This is the lowest of the low. This is not a hardware-tools industrial. This is not a small feature. This is not a short subject. This is not even what a buddy called “the lowest form of show business, a funeral.” This is worse. Sitting in a game show and applauding.

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The Writer’s strike. No one is working. Things are desperate and getting more desperate. Working a game show is not my idea of acting nirvana. There is one redeeming factor. You are paid in cold hard cash.

If they were paying cash, I’d watch an autopsy. I’m sure watching an autopsy would be more fun then some of the no-brainer game show tripe that I have suffered through to pay the rent. Horror stories. No food. No bathroom breaks. No kidding. I know these working conditions are against the Geneva Convention guidelines for prisoners of war. You would probably have a better day as an inmate at GITMO. Still cash is cash.

Worse case scenario: Sony Pictures. Hulk Hogan is a referee as a bunch of Neanderthals are beating the life out of each other in some type of ‘sports’ competition. American Gladiator. It should have been called American Slaughter. If this is sports than I’m glad I’m not a sports fan. There’s one thing worse than competing in this glorified reality TV bloodsport and that is sitting in the audience watching the carnage.

An acting buddy and I are told that the gig will only be four hours. Four hours and someone in the shadows hands us $45 in cash. I’m broke; I’m game. My baloney radar is usually running at a high rate of steam when I am working these train wrecks. I hear a couple of crew guys saying that we are going to have to work another four hours. To soothe the pain, the producers are bringing in pizza to keep the knuckle-walking audience at bay. There must be a way out. I know violence in not the way, but tonight I’ll consider it. Besides I left my AK-47 assault rifle in my locker at that storage place next to the railroad tracks near home. If there is a way out, we’re taking it.

45 people are standing in line to be wrapped as per the original Craig’s List invitation to “Work on an exciting TV show with celebrities.” Hulk Hogan is not my idea of a celebrity. Jeffrey Dahmer may be, but not Hulk Hogan. We are 44 and 45^th in line. I hear a lady complaining that her babysitter has be go home after four hours. I’ll use the same ploy if push comes to shove it. The line shuffles along. Almost there. Cash is king.

We get to the guy with the clip-board. He hands us cash. We run like scalded dogs back to the parking structure. Our nightmare is over. For the other 150 audience members, the nightmare is just beginning.

The next morning. We get a call from another actor buddy, forced to stay for the full eight hours. Not everyone got paid. They ran out of money! Can you imagine the bedlam when they announced they were out of cash. Soccer riots in Uruguay comes to mind.

I’m surprised the angry mob didn’t burn down the studios on the way to the parking structure at 2:30am. They waited four weeks for their check in the mail. There are game show horror stories all over town. It gets worse.

The Price is Right with Drew Carey and the "Audience"

The ultimate horror story: An older lady is working as an audience member. They would not let anyone go to the toilets. No bathroom breaks. Finally a bathroom break. This older lady is waiting in line with the rest of the younger ladies. She tells them to “Move back!” and she relieves herself standing there in line. A puddle at her feet told the story.

These are hard working people. The working poor trying to make some money to pay some bills. I’m sure most of the actors in town worked a game show audience or two in their early days. How many would admit it, however, is anyone’s guess.

I once fell asleep while suffering through The Price is Right early one morning. Let’s say its not my favorite cerebral show. Not exactly intellectually riveting. It also didn’t help that the night before I had worked Eli Stone at Disney and we wrapped at 2:30am. I had only about 4 hours sleep. A surly production gestapo lady dressed in a security uniform watches me doze off on the TV monitor. She confronts me. She escorts me down the hallway. I’m banished off the lot like trash in a dumpster.

I went home without the $75 cash. In my case, The Price was Wrong.

Denny Dormody is a Los Angeles Times Magazine published comedy writer and author of Riding the Hollywood Glacier. dennydormody@gmail.com

Hollywood Milieu©2009

Written by Denny Dormody

It’s Sunday about 545 am. It’s early. I heading down 6^th Street in downtown LA. These streets are nothing to write home about, especially at this time of day. As the song says, the darkest hour is always just before the dawn. This is early morning LA and it’s dark. Dark and nasty. Homeless. Broken glass. Debris in the streets. An empty MTA bus passes in the night like a ghost ship disappearing into the fog. It’s pilot season.

A pilot is a new TV show. Producers pitch them. Networks bankroll them. I act in them.

I’m a background actor and this is yet another pilot. I have no complaints. I’m happy to have work. Especially, on the weekend which is normally two days of acting down time.

6^th Street runs perpendicular into Los Angeles Street. I’ll hang a left and a sharp right into the production base camp. I look forward to ordering an omelet, picking up a cup of coffee off the catering truck and hanging out with other fellow actors, writers and film maker as we all ride the Hollywood glacier, working as background extras.

I especially look forward to hooking up with the PA or production assistant handing out pay vouchers. I turn the corner. There is no base camp. This is not my beautiful home. This is not my beautiful wife. This is desolation row in the dark shadows. This sucks.

I see a lone shrouded figure with a clipboard and a flashlight. Other background actors are briefly stopping their cars, being given a map and directed to another parking location. Again. I pull a semi u-turn and pull up and receive the map to the new location. I half-smile. Same old; same old. It’s pilot season.

Pilots are the most disorganized shoots ever. The wrong location directions are given. Somebody forgets to pack the coffee pots in the catering van. There are no chairs for the background actors to sit on. The PA in charge of background has no idea what the rules for overtime are and how we extras are to be paid.

I’m dead reckoning through the back streets of downtown LA. I jump on the 101 on-ramp and head to Hollywood and Vine, the site of our actual location shoot. Minutes pass. I’m heading down Vine Street and past the fabled Capitol Records building, featured in the opening sequence of Ocean’s 11. The shining stars on the Hollywood walk of fame are wet. Wet with the morning dew. This is a heck of a way to start a shoot.

Finally, the base camp comes into focus. We park. Inside a large ‘lunch box’ trailer our pay vouchers are handed out. We inhale our breakfast. We head to set.

A street scene. Two principal actors are standing on the corner in conversation. We are crossing behind them. Some background are driving their cars in a traffic loop. Some one forgot to bring Walkie Talkie’s for the car drivers. ‘Rolling, Speed, background, Action and Cut” will now all have to be screamed up and down the streets, adding to the mayhem and general confusion. Some of the confusion can’t be helped.

Most of these crew people have not worked together. Everyone has to be introduced and get in sync with each other. Everyone is trying to get along. Everyone is trying to get a bong. Everyone is trying to stay employed. We extras have an edge in this business. Our edge is something that keeps us going shoot after shoot.

We work almost every day. We are in the orbit. I’m lucky, I can walk on a movie or TV set and I know people. I’m blessed that now I get hello’s from Make-up people and Wardrobe people and 1^st and 2^nd AD’s and PA’s and even crew. I hope this means that my glacier is melting and I’m moving slowly but surely up the Hollywood food chain.

Some crew and some PA’s working on sets, don’t work every day. They hardly know anyone. They are so glad to have a gig, they are afraid to rock the boat. They flounder. They make mistakes. You can sense when a director and crew are in not in sync with each other.

Learn more and purchase Denny's book at Amazon. Click the image.

I’m working License to Wed in Long Beach. This is day 1 of 38 shooting days. I can see how the cast and crew are not picking up their cues. Takes turn into Going again, second takes and third takes. The coordination between departments and duties is strained. You would expect it to be. This is only day 1. I saw this being out of orbit syndrome during the last season of ER. This time with not a crew member , but with an actor.

We are working ER. A patient turned crazed gunman is spraying bullets in the hallway. A SAG day-player is an FBI agent. He’s talking to the chief hospital boss. His line is something like: “I’m Bill Clinton, I’m with the FBI and I’m in charge now.” That’s it.

Not Shakespeare. A sentence or two. He keeps blowing the lines. After three muffled takes the director is getting let’s say anxious. Veins are beginning to appear on the director’s forehead. Things start to get ugly. My theory, not to be confused with My space: The day player is not working a lot. He is out of sync with the industry and out of sync with set protocol.

Ask this guy where Crafty (coffee and snacks) or where the Honey Wagon (the john) is, he probably couldn’t tell you. This guy is not in the employment orbit, because he works so few days. I imagine he works about every 3 months or so. We extras work every day.

The profound question is asked: Is it better to work one SAG day and make more money or make less money working non union and work a lot and stay in the active job networking orbit? Only the Dalia Lama and Richard Gere know for sure. I prefer to work a lot. Movies. TV. Commercial shoots. Autopsies.

Work is work. If you get a gig on a pilot, work it. Stay in the Hollywood working orbit. Expect to be sitting around. Expect to run out of coffee. Expect the unexpected. To paraphrase our old buddy Forrest Gump, Pilot is as Pilot does.

Denny Dormody is a Los Angeles Times Magazine published comedy writer and author of Riding the Hollywood Glacier. dennydormody@gmail.com

Follow the three steps below to create your own credits on the Internet Movie Database while practicing your craft and possibly even making some money in the process.

1. Create your project.
   

   The first step to obtain real IMDb credits is to of course do the work. This does not mean however that you must be hired for a dream job with a production or given a major role in a TV Show or Movie. With the use of inexpensive film or video equipment, some creativity and marketing savvy you can begin your own impressive IMDb resume and be listed alongside the top Actors, Producers, Writers and Directors in the World.
   Do your best job in creating a Film or Video project that is at least 20 Minutes in length. (This is the minimum run-time requirement for distributing it through CreateSpace.) Once your project is shot, edited and polished you will need to distribute it.

2. Distribute it through CreateSpace. (Having your movie available for sale on Amazon.com automatically qualifies it for a Title Page on IMDb.)

   CreateSpace is a company owned by Amazon (Who also owns IMDb) that is an on Demand Distribution Service that allows publishers of books, DVD,s, Videos, CDs and more without spending money up front.   Click here to see information about the CreateSpace service  at the IMDb website and how it qualifies your project for a free Title page.

3. Submit your Title to IMDb. (Build your Credits into the listing)

   Once your DVD has been proofed and made available for sale make sure that you allow your title for distribution through Amazon inside of your CreateSpace account settings. This will make the title available on IMDb and may also lead to some sales through the vast Amazon network. (You can also sell through Amazon UnBox video on demand which offers much better profits.) You will need to add your Title to IMDb yourself. Follow the link on the bottom of IMDb pages or Click Here and bookmark the IMDb Add a Title application. Be sure to include all of your credits when you submit the application. The process can be time consuming so make sure you give yourself ample time to add each credit into the correct category for each crew / cast position.

It may take a few weeks before your Title and Credits appear on the IMDb website but this should get you on your way to a great resume that can be verified and will be taken seriously.

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Case Study: Architects of Time / The garbage

I discovered this way of obtaining IMDb credits when looking for ways to distribute a Documentary on art Deco Architecture I made as a hobby in 2006. Later, I used this a a way to obtain some awesome actors for a Short Film made under the SAG Short Film Contract. The actors were happy to volunteer their time knowing that they would be given proper credits for their work. Learn more about these projects with the links below.

• Architects of Time (Documentary) at: IMDb | Amazon
• The Garbage (Short Film) at: IMDb | Amazon