Entertainment / No ‘Thank You’: My Day As An Extra In A Bollywood Movie

No ‘Thank You’: My Day As An Extra In A Bollywood Movie

Entertainment Jun 03, 2013

by J P

Our very own fashion editor's humorous journal about being a part of Anees Basmi's upcoming film Thank You.

My life is filled with random occurrences. On any given day of the week I would not find it out of the ordinary to be accosted by a machete-waving lunatic or attacked by a flock of pigeons. So one warm day this summer, when I heard a softly accented voice yelling at me to turn around while walking down the street, I had no idea what to expect. Conversation with a short fiery-haired lady and an introduction to Bollywood director Anees Bazmee saw me signed on as an extra in the up and coming Bollywood film Thank You starring Akshay Kumar and Sonam Kapoor.

Years ago I'd toyed with the idea of strutting down the red carpet and pursuing acting. It seemed right down my narcissistic alley; professional hair and makeup applications (I could roll in looking like a swamp monster and roll out looking like Penelope Cruz), movie premiers, fancy dresses, exotic locales, private parties and press conferences. Thankfully, I followed my heart and not my head— 'acting' was not nearly as glamorous as I'd previously envisioned. Indeed, it was comparable to the unpleasant act known as labour; painfully long periods of waiting punctuated by short, intense bouts of action. I now have a new appreciation for actors.

The evening before the shoot, I received the call sheet stating that I was to be on location at 6:30AM with my hair and makeup done. As we were shooting an MTV pool-party type scene, I was also told to bring a wardrobe selection of bright, colorful, patterned 'beach wear', bangles, flip-flops, hats and sunglasses. Stupidly, I acquiesced to go out with a friend later that evening. Telling myself that I would stay only for an hour, two at most, I strolled back into my building at an ominous 2:34AM. After packing my swimsuit, bangles, sunglasses and blanket for the next morning, I set my alarm for 5:30AM, crawled under my covers, and cursed my lack of discipline.

Stumbling out of bed the next morning, I made it to the location by 6:37AM. I was fortunate that the scenes were being shot a mere 4 blocks from my condo. Arriving at The Radisson, I walked upstairs and into a banquet room filled with over a hundred people. Dark-tinted sunglasses masking my sleep-deprived eyes, I took a short glance around at the people I would be sharing the next 12 hours with. Most were—like I—sporting vacant expressions, chugging coffee and covering their mouths in unsuccessful attempts to stifle yawns. After five minutes had passed, we were told to exit the banquet room and take a service elevator down to Wardrobe. Cramming ourselves inside, we made it to the street and lined up beside the wardrobe trailer.

The woman in charge of wardrobe, while small in stature, was big on attitude; she spoke to us like a drill sergeant. Yay-ing or nay-ing our outfits and accessories, and then ordering us inside of the trailer to change. When it came to my turn, I obediently pulled out my bangles, hat, sunglasses and white bathing suit, and waited. Clearly unimpressed, she gave a short snort of dismissal and motioned for me to get changed.

Emerging from the trailer in a wide-brimmed black hat, bedazzled sunglasses, sparkling black necklace, white bathing suit, a multitude of bangles and platforms, I was looking forward to spending a day lounging by the pool.

Being a friendly sort, I struck up conversation with a girl who was done up in much the same manner as I. She was one of those actors/models/hostesses/waitresses and ended up with a minor role in the film. Scantily-clad—and cold—in a bikini, I lent her my beloved zebra-striped fleece blanket…I never saw it again (I'm still mourning this loss).

Around 8:30AM, after waiting around and watching the crew transform the outdoor pool and patio area into a party-pad, we were ushered onto the set and strategically placed around the area, given colorful mock-tails to hold. Megaphone in hand, director Bazmee belted out instructions: when he yelled 'Action!', we were to put on our party-faces and dance.

The actual process of filming took very little time and while I at first felt awkward flailing my hands and gyrating to nothing (apparently they dub the music in at a later point), occasionally yelling out the odd 'Woo-Hoo', by the time lunch rolled around, I was really in my element. Surrounded by a few new friends and a pool with the sun peeking out from behind the clouds, all that my party was missing was a 40 of Hennessey and house music. I was exhilarated; no wonder so many people aspire to act, I thought to myself: this was fun!

The exhilaration was short-lived. My good spirits of the early morning vanished with the sun sometime around 2:30PM and, like the sun, they never returned.

After a late lunch of traditional Indian-fare, we were once again ushered on set to film a different scene: this one involved 'running around in terror from a gun fight that breaks out between a gangster and the star'. When Bazmee yelled 'Action!', I followed suit of the other extras and ran in what I thought was a distinctly fearful manner. My illusion was soon shattered when the director pulled me aside for a quick 'direction': apparently my interpretation of sprinting in fear actually translated itself into what looked like me blissfully prancing around like a care-free fairy.

The next five hours were spent sprinting and stopping; milling around while lighting was reset; milling around while the cameras were moved; and running around the pool screaming in terror -—I don't believe I've done that much physical activity since my days on the high-school soccer team. Suffice to say, by the end of the day, I was exhausted. My poor choice of footwear had left me with bruised and blistered feet, I was tired, sweaty and irritable and just wanted to go home. But, never one to be a quitter, I soldiered on through the rest of the filming, continuing to run around the pool yelling in fright and milling around waiting. The sheer number of takes that were done for each scene was staggering, but putting myself in the director's shoes, I could understand his need for perfection. After all, the final product is an explicit reflection on the director's talent. Just like I would never send out a shoddy, throw-together article, he would never send out a shoddy, throw-together film.

Around 6:30PM, when the cameras stopped rolling and the shoot finally wrapped for the day, an assistant of some kind came around with a sign-up sheet, getting extras to sign-on for the next-day's scenes. I watched my new friends happily jot down their names but recoiled in horror, quickly shaking my head in a back and forth motion, when she approached me with the paper. Once was enough.

I staggered home in much the same manner that I had staggered out of bed that morning. And when I finally had a chance to relax, I thanked my lucky stars that I wasn't one of those struggling actors; becoming a unionized actor, I was given to understand, took somewhere in the ballpark of 1,500 hours of credited screen-time. Holy. Shiz.

While the experience wasn't glamorous like I had expected, it was interesting to experience what goes on behind the scenes and to see things from the opposite side of the camera. I can truthfully say that I'm glad that I was disabused of my notion of the glitz and glamour of movie-making. It makes me appreciate my chosen career path -which I love- that much more. I've decided that I'll stick to watching movies at home or at the theatre and leave acting to those who appreciate the craft for what it is.

_{Source: IMDb.com, santabanta.com, and twitter}

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No ‘Thank You’: My Day As An Extra In A Bollywood Movie

by J P

Our very own fashion editor's humorous journal about being a part of Anees Basmi's upcoming film Thank You.

COMMENTS

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