09-02-11
As I sit down to write this reflection for the blog-o-sphere, I realize August has passed me by. When last we left our fearless adventurer Jenny, she was getting ready to open her play, Much Ado About Nothing, while dodging amorous park exhibitionists and late-night sprinklers. Now, I'm heading into our closing weekend, having braved a plethora of unexpected events. There was the Maryhill windstorm that required all off-stage cast members to hold onto our tent to keep it from taking flight. During this adventure, our Benedick (who is also our set designer) perceived the need to let some of the air out of the tent and, since we were getting a new tent the next weekend, decided to cut an air escape route in the roof. After hunting around for scissors or a knife, he plucked the dagger from Don Pedro's costume and valiantly stabbed a hole in the roof just as Beatrice declared onstage: "and Benedick, love on, I will requite thee!" There was our 96-degree performance (hot for this Portland summer) in a venue where our stage was in the sun. When offstage, we would suck water, put ice down our shirts, and fling ourselves to the ground, unable to support our own weight a second longer than was necessary. Our set, that day, agreed with our response to the suffocating heat, as one of our side arches buckled and collapsed under its own weight at the beginning of our second act, just as Borachio asks "Dost thou hear someone?" to which, that day, Conrade replied "no, tis just this arch falling over." We've had our share of interesting audience members, too: there was a woman who brought her spinning wheel and spent the whole play spinning straw into gold (half of that is true . . .); there was a homeless man who Dogberry nearly convinced, during our pre-show, to become a member of the watch; there were three separate groups of people who came dressed in full period outfits -- corsets, top hats, walking sticks and all.
But truly, I wanted to write about something else today: a tiny experience that snapped me to attention for a moment of clarity and leaves me, weeks later, wondering at its significance.
I was called to be an extra on the final episode of the current season of Leverage. For those of you who don't know, Leverage is a TNT show filmed in Portland, about -- well, I'm not really sure. I know it involves good guys and bad guys. This particular episode featured a room full of business executives at a cocktail party (i.e. 250 Portland actors and other under-employed people who owned business-wear and could be available for 14 hours on a Monday with less than 24 hours' notice).
This was my fourth time ever being an extra, and although I don't intend to make a habit of it, I do find it interesting and useful to be on a set, watching the way filming gets done. About 10 hours into our day, I realized there were some famous actors in the room with me. In my defense, I had spent the first 6 hours of my day in an extras holding area, waiting to be called to do something. When I was called into the scene, I moved into the room along with all 250 of the other party-goers, listening attentively to the Extras Wrangler who served as interpreter between the director and the somewhat unwieldy mob of restless extras. My attentiveness earned me some highlight moves as the Extras Wrangler caught my eye: "You! Walk over here as the camera rolls by!" I hope it isn't my ten minutes of fame, but having a task kept me mildly entertained as the same scene was shot over and over.
But the "significant moment" happened, as I said, about 10 hours into the shoot when I realized there were some famous actors in the room with me. Specifically, I recognized Leon Rippy (although I had to look up his name when I got home), the actor who played David's creepy southern lawyer in The Life of David Gale. That movie is one of a very few that actually took my breath away. I won't spoil the ending if you haven't seen it, but it twists to reveal a truth that, when I witnessed it, was almost more than I could fathom. I saw it twice by myself in the theater and again with Steve when we were first dating.
So when I saw Leon Rippy (i.e., "the actor who played the creepy lawyer in that movie that changed my life"), I was star-struck in a way I hadn't anticipated. I wanted to watch him act, but my position in the room wouldn't allow me to hear the dialog, and it was difficult to keep my eye on him without drawing the attention of the Extras Wrangler for not appearing natural. (Extras Wrangler: "I don't think party guest number 147 should be craning her neck like that." Me: "No, it's this yoga thing I'm working on. It's part of my character." Extras Wrangler: "There's no yoga in this scene. Face forward, drink your soda-water champagne, and laugh like you're having a good time.")
Presently, we were starting a new scene and all the extras were being herded to one side of the room while the principal actors moved to the other side. I was roughly in the middle of the throng, at the edge of the corridor being created for the actors to move between us. Trying not to step on anyone's toes, I suddenly looked up and found myself face to face with Leon Rippy, the-actor-who-played-the-creepy-lawyer-in-that-movie-that-changed-my-life! Inexplicably, he stopped, offered me his hand, and asked my name. "Jenny," I said, grinning like an idiot. "It's nice to meet you, Jenny. I'm Leon," he said, and winked at me. Then he moved on through the mob of extras and crew.
As he moved away from me, tears came to my eyes. I looked across the parted sea of extras at a guy I didn't know and whispered "he shook my hand!" The guy whispered "who is that?" I shook my head and watched Leon disappear into the crowd.
That’s Leon Rippy, the-actor-who-winked-at-me-on-a-TV-shoot-once.
As I sit down to write this reflection for the blog-o-sphere, I realize August has passed me by. When last we left our fearless adventurer Jenny, she was getting ready to open her play, Much Ado About Nothing, while dodging amorous park exhibitionists and late-night sprinklers. Now, I'm heading into our closing weekend, having braved a plethora of unexpected events. There was the Maryhill windstorm that required all off-stage cast members to hold onto our tent to keep it from taking flight. During this adventure, our Benedick (who is also our set designer) perceived the need to let some of the air out of the tent and, since we were getting a new tent the next weekend, decided to cut an air escape route in the roof. After hunting around for scissors or a knife, he plucked the dagger from Don Pedro's costume and valiantly stabbed a hole in the roof just as Beatrice declared onstage: "and Benedick, love on, I will requite thee!" There was our 96-degree performance (hot for this Portland summer) in a venue where our stage was in the sun. When offstage, we would suck water, put ice down our shirts, and fling ourselves to the ground, unable to support our own weight a second longer than was necessary. Our set, that day, agreed with our response to the suffocating heat, as one of our side arches buckled and collapsed under its own weight at the beginning of our second act, just as Borachio asks "Dost thou hear someone?" to which, that day, Conrade replied "no, tis just this arch falling over." We've had our share of interesting audience members, too: there was a woman who brought her spinning wheel and spent the whole play spinning straw into gold (half of that is true . . .); there was a homeless man who Dogberry nearly convinced, during our pre-show, to become a member of the watch; there were three separate groups of people who came dressed in full period outfits -- corsets, top hats, walking sticks and all.
But truly, I wanted to write about something else today: a tiny experience that snapped me to attention for a moment of clarity and leaves me, weeks later, wondering at its significance.
I was called to be an extra on the final episode of the current season of Leverage. For those of you who don't know, Leverage is a TNT show filmed in Portland, about -- well, I'm not really sure. I know it involves good guys and bad guys. This particular episode featured a room full of business executives at a cocktail party (i.e. 250 Portland actors and other under-employed people who owned business-wear and could be available for 14 hours on a Monday with less than 24 hours' notice).
This was my fourth time ever being an extra, and although I don't intend to make a habit of it, I do find it interesting and useful to be on a set, watching the way filming gets done. About 10 hours into our day, I realized there were some famous actors in the room with me. In my defense, I had spent the first 6 hours of my day in an extras holding area, waiting to be called to do something. When I was called into the scene, I moved into the room along with all 250 of the other party-goers, listening attentively to the Extras Wrangler who served as interpreter between the director and the somewhat unwieldy mob of restless extras. My attentiveness earned me some highlight moves as the Extras Wrangler caught my eye: "You! Walk over here as the camera rolls by!" I hope it isn't my ten minutes of fame, but having a task kept me mildly entertained as the same scene was shot over and over.
But the "significant moment" happened, as I said, about 10 hours into the shoot when I realized there were some famous actors in the room with me. Specifically, I recognized Leon Rippy (although I had to look up his name when I got home), the actor who played David's creepy southern lawyer in The Life of David Gale. That movie is one of a very few that actually took my breath away. I won't spoil the ending if you haven't seen it, but it twists to reveal a truth that, when I witnessed it, was almost more than I could fathom. I saw it twice by myself in the theater and again with Steve when we were first dating.
So when I saw Leon Rippy (i.e., "the actor who played the creepy lawyer in that movie that changed my life"), I was star-struck in a way I hadn't anticipated. I wanted to watch him act, but my position in the room wouldn't allow me to hear the dialog, and it was difficult to keep my eye on him without drawing the attention of the Extras Wrangler for not appearing natural. (Extras Wrangler: "I don't think party guest number 147 should be craning her neck like that." Me: "No, it's this yoga thing I'm working on. It's part of my character." Extras Wrangler: "There's no yoga in this scene. Face forward, drink your soda-water champagne, and laugh like you're having a good time.")
Presently, we were starting a new scene and all the extras were being herded to one side of the room while the principal actors moved to the other side. I was roughly in the middle of the throng, at the edge of the corridor being created for the actors to move between us. Trying not to step on anyone's toes, I suddenly looked up and found myself face to face with Leon Rippy, the-actor-who-played-the-creepy-lawyer-in-that-movie-that-changed-my-life! Inexplicably, he stopped, offered me his hand, and asked my name. "Jenny," I said, grinning like an idiot. "It's nice to meet you, Jenny. I'm Leon," he said, and winked at me. Then he moved on through the mob of extras and crew.
As he moved away from me, tears came to my eyes. I looked across the parted sea of extras at a guy I didn't know and whispered "he shook my hand!" The guy whispered "who is that?" I shook my head and watched Leon disappear into the crowd.
That’s Leon Rippy, the-actor-who-winked-at-me-on-a-TV-shoot-once.
