Marie Phillips

The weather gods smiled on me (who are the weather gods? I should know this. Bad author of Greek mythology-based novel, bad) and I got my day as an extra. It would be far too spoilerific to reveal too much, but I think it’s OK for me to say that, if you’re not entirely sure what I look like and want to spot me, look out for my hat. Also, that we were filming outdoors - you already know that - and that what I’m certain will come across onscreen as my extraordinary composure belies the fact that I was being eaten alive by mosquitoes and had wasps crawling all over me, and spent the following night having extensive nightmares about ticks. But that’s the magic of showbiz.

While I loved being an extra in the film, it was really only because it was my film, because as it turns out, being an extra is super-boring. Not the fault of the crew of this film, who were all brilliant, but an occupational hazard, I think. I can’t deny I enjoyed having my hair and make-up done and being dressed up in [REDACTED] but essentially you wait in a big holding pen - seriously, there was a sign up above the room (actually a big tent, in this case) that said ‘HOLDING’ - guarded by Production Assistants whose job it is to stop you from wandering off, for HOURS until it’s time for your bit, and then you are human furniture, literally, as the director decides whether he’d rather have you there or that nice-looking lamp. And then you do your bit a gazillion times from every conceivable angle. I’m not entirely convinced it’s that different for the stars, who also spend forever being made-up, coiffed and dressed, and then sit around for hours until they too are puppeteered by the director, from the left, from the right, over the shoulder, in wide, in close up, and once more for luck. I mean they are allowed to walk around in between shots without a PA shouting at them, and they get a room each, but it isn’t necessarily a nice room. Windows, for example, are not guaranteed. Also they can’t SEE anything - while if you are on set in any other capacity, from producer to catering, even if it isn’t your bit (which it usually isn’t) you have all the interest of watching what everyone else is doing, from touching up make-up to moving walls. And then finally, when they are actually doing their acting, the actors STILL can’t see anything, because it’s not like you can look around at what else is going on when the camera is on you. I saw less of my scene than of anything else that was filmed the entire time I was in New York. Basically, I know what my hands are doing in that shot, and nothing else. No wonder actors are always so self-conscious about their hands, it’s the only thing you have any awareness of on the set. And even if, finally, the actors get all the attention, it’s not until a year and a half after they did the acting bit and they’re not even in the room when all the attention happens, which is the worst kind of attention to have. In short, if you want to be in movies, my advice is to get behind the camera, not in front of it. And if you want to be an actor, get on stage.

I don’t want to sound ungrateful because I was truly absolutely bloody delighted to be in the film, and I felt like Alfred Hitchcock, except thinner, less bald, and neither the master of suspense nor the punchline to the joke “who invented the jockstrap?” And I can’t wait to see myself in gigantissimo on a screen near me sometime in the semi-distant future (eta 2013). And I’m glad the director decided to go for me, and not a nice-looking lamp. And I think my hands put in an excellent performance. As for the rest of me, you’ll have to be the judge of that.