Many thanks to everyone who left comments about my visit to Southport and the set of The Waterfront, the new Netflix television series. It's good to know that so many of you share my love of behind-the-scenes cinemagic.
I was back on the same set of The Waterfront this morning but much to my dismay, no one was there. What! Even though my sources, who are never wrong btw, my sources say filming will take place today--but nada. I don't know what to tell you. I promise to get updates soon and post them here on The Circular Journey.
But all is not lost. I strive never to let my public down. You are much too important to me. My sources made me aware that another film project is underway in Southport. You may have heard the name, Capsized?
And so, with my brain working like a finely tuned large language model artificial intelligence chatbot, I left the familiar Southport yacht basin and headed down the barricaded Brunswick Street to Morningstar Marina, the set for Capsized.
The last time I was on the set of The Waterfront, I asked Vee about the signs declaring the place a restricted area. She's the production assistant who taught me about hanging around a film crew, and she told me, "That's just to scare away civilians."
And so this morning as I walked down the barricaded Brunswick Street toward the Morningstar, the thought that I wasn't just another random civilian allowed me to become a little full of myself. And it felt good.
Closer to the actual marina, I could see what appeared to be the entire crew assembled on the deck overlooking the bay. I recognized it as the party that kicks off the first day of filming on any set. It was exciting. I was pumped!
Consequently, when I arrived I walked onto the set like I was walking aboard my yacht. My beret was strategically dipped above one eye, which made all the difference in presentation.
I suppose this is the place where I might write, What could possibly go wrong? Or I might tease you with, Hilarity ensues.
I might have written something like that but the words would have misrepresented the heavy-hearted feeling that filled me when a security guard blocked my way and asked me,
"Didn't you see the signs that say, closed set; authorized personnel only?"
Well, what could I say? What was there to say except maybe, "Oh, ah," and that's what I said.
All the magic happens behind the curtain.
You know that I'm addicted to the magic of film production, and the thought of being turned away, like Adam and Eve from the Garden, reminded me that at times like these, what's called for is a higher power. I pulled my magic 8-ball out of my pack and consulted it about my prospects for success.
I turned the ball over, and the answer floated up out of the darkness. Time will tell, it read. I was more disappointed if that's even possible. It's this kind of nonsense, I thought, that makes people seriously doubt the reliability of magic balls and whatnot.
But the mood soon passed because the atmosphere on set was festive and the excitement was contagious. I hung around the general area trying to put together an alternate plan for salvaging something from the day.
As I walked around the dock, kicking sticks and leaves into the water, I was approached by someone coming from the direction of the kick-off party.
"Hi," he said. "You're not part of the production team are you?"
"How does everyone know that?" I asked. "Is it that obvious?"
"Yeah," he said, "it's easy to tell you're a civilian. Would you like to help me with my lines?"
I didn't like that crack about being a civilian and I thought of several juicy comebacks but decided it was best if I wanted to hang around a while longer, to be helpful in any way I could.
"I suppose so," I said.
And so he told me all about his part in the upcoming scene. He was an extra and would play an employee of the rental agency. He would be casting off the mooring lines to allow the houseboat to leave the dock.
Beau, that's his name, told me the storyline includes a dysfunctional family that rents a houseboat for a vacation on the Carolina coast. That's the first scene to be filmed today.
He didn't tell me the entire story but when I hear the words, dysfunctional family, I suspect the father has a problem with platinum blondes and bathtub gin. It's a common problem I believe. In my younger days in Shady Grove, I heard it referred to as a problem with "dames and hootch."
In the upcoming scene, the family would be preparing to launch their vacation by launching the houseboat. What could go wrong? Hilarity ensues.
Beau and two other extras would provide a believable facsimile of a boat rental crew. He had only two lines to rehearse. He was to tell the other workers to "Cast off the lines," and when the ropes had been untied and stowed, he would say, "Good job, boys."
Not exactly Hamlet but you wouldn't have guessed it from the way he went on about it. I'll bet I heard his lines at least a dozen times before the Second Assistant Director sent for him to join the other extras in the staging area. He forgot to thank me but who could complain, he was really pumped!
"Knock 'em dead," I said as he walked toward the boats.
"What's that supposed to mean?" he said.
"Well, you've got me there. It's something I've heard said in similar situations and I thought it would be a great exit line for you."
He shook his head and gave me a look that implied I was a total waste, taking up space that could be used for better purposes. But I shook it off. I was going to have a great day despite inflated egos and unreliable magic. I took a deep breath and got a lungful of ambient excitement. I was pumped!
I always strive to spread goodness and light to the deserving and undeserving alike. And so, thinking I could improve relations with Beau, I called to him as he walked away.
"Beau," I said, "you might want to speak up a bit, your voice is a little soft and elocution is what you want on camera."
I don't know how I thought of the elocution gag. It just floated up like a message from a magic 8-ball. Still, I thought it a good bit of fruit cake and congratulated myself for thinking of it.
Listening to Beau during rehearsal, I'd gotten the idea that the action pretty much centered around him untying the boat. He'd given me the impression that the other actors did little more than fill in when he happened to be off-stage. But from what I could tell, watching the action from a distance, things on set jogged along quite nicely without much help from him.
"That's it boys!" said Beau--not in the script, of course--and his loud remark walked all over whatever it was the stars were saying to each other as they boarded the houseboat.
"Cut!" yelled the director.
Immediately, an outburst of dialogue erupted between the stage manager and the director. I couldn't make it all out but it had something to do with Beau being off his mark. The stage manager placed his hands on Beau's shoulders and moved him around a bit.
Again, the action began. I was too far away to hear the calls to "Rolling" and "Action."
The previous scene was repeated and everything seemed to be alright until another stormy exchange between the stage manager and director. This time it was about Beau's lines. It seems his volume control was set too high, as I suspected.
"Cut!" yelled the director and several crew members repeated the call.
Not exactly Hamlet.
Normal activity resumed and I could see Beau and the other two extras gabbing on the dock. The director walked out to give Beau some direction and Beau seemed to take it big. He was pumped but not in a good way!
He seemed to think he was judged unfairly and took out his frustration on a crab crate which he kicked off the dock and into the water. It was plain the atmosphere had hotted up and there was a goodish deal of je-ne-sais-quoi on the set.
The directory apparently decided it would be helpful to give the production crew a short break. Beau came over to my table. He looked steamed. Not actually leaking at the seams but not far from it.
"What'd the director say?" I asked.
"Never mind what he said." The whole thing's your fault."
"What's my fault?"
"Me not working out. He told me I'd be paid for a full day but that it would be better if I didn't eat with the crew and best if I leave the set now."
"Too bad," I said. "Well, tomorrow's another day."
"Do you think it's funny?" he demanded but then he stomped away without waiting for a reply. I couldn’t help but wonder what his problem was. It wasn’t like he was going to win an Oscar nomination for "Good job, boys."
I began gathering up my things and just as I was about to leave, I heard a voice behind me.
"Hey, you."
I turned to see the first assistant director standing there, her brow furrowed, looking me up and down.
"You've been hanging around here all morning," she said. "Are you an extra?"
I blinked. "Me? No, I'm not an actor."
"Neither was he." She said.
Vee, my personal production assistant, came to mind and I thought, I'm not just another civilian. I passed as an extra in the mind of an assistant director.
Well? Vee said in the movie playing in my mind. Wanna be an extra?
Actually, Vee, I thought, I'm already an Extra with a capital 'E'. I have a team in Waterford who need me more than you guys.
See you tomorrow then?
"Let's see what the 8-ball has to say about it," I said aloud giving the ball a shake.
Count on it, is what the magic ball said. And, everything considered, I'd say it had been a big day for being pumped from start to finish.
