Extras, Rain, and Ang Lee

The idea of filming a scene while wrangling 300 inexperienced extras is enough to send shivers down one’s spine – shivers intensified by the fact that the light rain is beginning to turn into heavy rain and the scene that you are filming is supposed to be a beautiful day in August. I cannot imagine what was going through the director’s, producers’, and crew’s collective hive mind as they saw that they had 300 wet non-professionals and a wasted day of filming to pay them for.

The day was last Friday, the film was “Taking Woodstock,” the director was the incomparable Ang Lee, and one of the 300 wet non-professionals was me. The logistics of scheduling, and filming a scene of this magnitude seem almost overwhelming, and even my presence there during the filming cannot lessen my disbelief at how much work goes into the making of a feature film, and how much of that work is unappreciated by the viewer. The day, at least for the extras, started with the production assistants who had to make sure that everyone that had been called for the day was there and was on the bus to wardrobe. Once in wardrobe each extra had to find their costume, dress, and present themselves to the costumers who had to give their approval to each. Authenticity matters for each and every one; nary a bra could be found on the hippies, and low-waisted jeans were proclaimed to be “’90s Woodstock, not ‘60s Woodstock.” Makeup consisted of fake dirt being applied to the legs, hands, necks, and elbows, and the unlucky girls who had highlights in their hair were given an earful and a temporary dye job. All this for 300 people, most of whom would only be glimpsed in the background of the scene. All this on a day where the weather made filming almost impossible after 2PM.

Extras are requested not to reveal details of the movie, but it would be quite difficult to even if I wished. We are not told very much, and the plot, though in the dark to me, is available for any who venture out to buy Elliot Tiber’s memoir “Taking Woodstock.” But the scene we filmed involved the impressive feat of trying to organize a flock of college-aged hippies (most fit that description in real life as well as in the film) along a picturesque dirt road. I was placed in a stall which sold “baked goods” among its other products whose period appropriate names were provided for me by one of the production assistants who had taken full advantage of what the ‘60s had to offer (Panama Red, Hawaiian, Afghani opiated hash?). We were basically left to our own devices and ingenuity to create a convincing, but not distracting setting for the main character to wend his way through. This was fun, but cold as a strong wind was cutting through the woods. I felt particularly sorry for the guy who was buying our merchandise as he was requested to do it without a shirt (remember Woodstock happened in August). We shivered our way between takes, but as soon as “action” was spoken we pulled ourselves together trying to look as authentic as possible, the moment the camera moved on though we collapsed shaking into our chilled bones. By 1:30 our stall had become very popular because our baked goods were real, and certainly welcome to people who had had little to eat since 8AM, lunch it turned out was still 3 hours away. We were given a break at 2:00 to have a snack and sit down a moment. Unfortunately as soon as we trudged back up the hill to the filming site it started spitting, and after putting everyone into place for the scene the rain had become too heavy for filming so we all were sent back to the holding tent to wait it out. Though there was a slight respite an hour or so later everything was already wet, and it is doubtful that the footage that they finally got before the rains returned was usable.

Basically it was a nightmare for Ang Lee, the crew, and the producers (one of whom when I innocently asked if it was possible to film even though everything was wet, came up to me so that we were nose to nose and said definitively in reply “It. Is. Not. Wet.” You don’t argue with a producer), and yet the atmosphere on set remained, though perhaps not overtly cheerful, relaxed and comfortable. This good vibe seemed to radiate from Ang Lee himself. Though I had minimal interaction with him and never exchanged a word, it was obvious that the man has a quiet power about him. He’s in control not because he forces it, but because he’s the type that people want to follow. He passed five feet in front of me making sure that my stall was everything that it should have been. I stopped what I was doing, dumbfounded in his presence, and he smiled at me. I am now convinced that the man must be some sort of demigod, and for another smile I’d do it all again.