My So-Called Life As An Extra on "Early Edition"
By Helen A. Lee
This article appeared
on the TVQuest.com website
in March 1999.
It was cold, it took forever, and the director threatened to kill me. That's what I'll remember most about my experience as a "day player" on the set of "Early Edition." It was just a six-hour shoot for a segment in the March 20 episode (8 p.m. ET on CBS) that probably lasts a minute, but it felt like six days.
When CBS publicity called me up the week before and asked me if I wanted to do the spot, of course I jumped at the change. I mean, how often do I, a lowly television journalist, get to be on TV? CBS thought it would be fun to have real writers play the roles of television journalists in "Early Edition," which is based in Chicago. CBS invited to Tribune-based reports and two Sun-Times reporters to the shoot. Ironically, "Early Edition" regularly features the Sun-Times but neither of their people showed.
My day started at 5 p.m. when I cabbed over to the corner of Maxwell and Halsted in Chicago, where the filming was taking place. Full of abandoned and dilapidated buildings, graffiti and some small stores, the area had been completely taken over by the crew for the day. On a small side street, trailers for wardrobe, actors and other departments had been set up. Just south of an empty lot, "Holding" had been arranged at a small Baptist church. That's where they keep all the extras when they're not being used, and where they sent me when I arrived.
When I got there, a woman named Joanne directed me back out into the bitter cold to be "background" in a shot. My job: to walk around a corner as soon as one of the headset-sporting crew members, stationed near me, gave me the background cue. I did this twice before they realized why they couldn't find me on the list. I was one step up, a "day player." Day players get paid more (hallelujah) and have speaking roles.
Crew members handed out self-warming packets to all 75 extras called Toastie Toes and Hothands for our use, and outfitted me with a warmer coat, gloves and hat from the wardrobe department before finally sending us out. Out on the street, Tribun critic Allan Johnson and I were handed props (microphones, TV cameras and lights) and placed in our spots. I met my "camera crew," Matt--a professional Elvis impersonator, and Fabrice--an actor with a French accent, and received instructions from director Gary Nelson.
We did some more waiting, this time outside. In the meantime, the "news crews" and I amused ourselves by warming our hands at the propane-powered portable heater and reading the signs on the building being filmed--"Movies XXX, Incense, Underwear." We also talked to Amy Landecker, an actress with a minor role as a newswoman. Matt couldn't resist baiting her by calling her Monica, because of the blue beret on her head. We kept calling Matt "Elvis" because of his sideburns, and I was nick-named Connie Chung.
The entire set looked exactly like a crime scene, except for all the cameras and crew people milling around. Extras in police costumes, paramedics costumes and firefighter costumes stood along with us, and crew members took Polaroids (for continuity, one told me) and checked light levels every so often. An ambulance, a fire truck and police cars were also set up at key spots. They were all lent to "Early Edition" by local departments.
Eventually, we did a few rehearsals. In the scene, Gary Hobson (played by Kyle Chandler) is taken out of a building after an explosion. He's been trapped there for several hours. Covered in dirt and bruises, with a limp in his right leg, he hugs Marissa Clark (Shanesia Davis-Williams) and then Erica Paget (Kristy Swanson), his love interest. At the urging of a fireman, he then heads for an ambulance--right through the three news "camera crews."
After the first take, Allan and I decided it would be more realistic if the reporters tried to solicit a comment from Gary as he came by, and Allan talked to the second Assistant Director (AD), Tico, about it. He said we could. So we did and I chased Gary (Chandler) the 15 feet to the ambulance.
That's when the director yelled at me for walking in front of the camera. Oops. His exact words were, "If you ever do that again, I'll kill you on the spot." He was joking. I think.
The next takes went pretty well. Makeup people kept adding new dirt and bruises to Chandler's clothes and face, and I kept ending my dialogue and key places because I'd forget to start talking again after he'd passed me. That was only a problem when they decided to make our microphones live so we could be heard. Once, instead of having Chandler run through us, they filmed the scene from his viewpoint. Total close-up on me!
Our feet were numb with cold by the time they gave us a pizza break. Those ToastieToes had turned out to be ineffectual. We'd all been outside freezing for at least three hours, so I didn't even realize I was hungry until I saw the food. After about 15 minutes we were sent out again for a couple of final takes. It was almost 11 at night when we finished the scene.
The Elvis impersonator, who apologized for calling me "sweetheart" all evening, gave me a lift home (he really does have an Elvis shrine in his car). I was exhausted and not really sure the life of an actor is all it's cracked up to be. After all, the show's stars had a much longer, colder day than I did, and they do this on a regular basis.
I changed my mind the next day, when I was called and told I'd be paid almost $600 for that spot, which must have lasted a total of five minutes tops. That much money for six hours or work, and a spot on national TV too? I'm switching professions--call my agent!