OMG look at the girl with the hat

Paul Hamer picks me up from my gaff at five PM. As always we have spent more time choosing CD’s for the car journey up to London then we have on things like packing camera equipment. It is only an hour to London but having the right CD’s are essential. Paul wants to play the Foo Fighters for the first part of the trip. I agree with this, to me DG has still to make a bad record. After the Foo’s we have agree to chill things down a bit with some Alela Diane probably the album “To Be Still”.

We set of down the M4 with music blaring. However, the grim shadow of Mr Hyde lies between us. I guess in the same way the grim shadow of Queen Victoria pummelled our Grandparents all those years ago. Some things only slightly change. I stupidly find myself trying to be a peace maker; Paul is having none of it. I think that this relationship maybe beyond repair. Who knows even if it is reparable there will always be the next time. AGAIN!!!!!

Silence falls between us. It is funny how an energy can do this. Out of an uncomfortable boredom I check my Blackberry and look on Twitter. (if you follow my blog you will learn that coincidence is in my blood. It happens far too often in my life, maybe I am always looking for it. Who knows)Alela Diane has just tweeted, apparently her husband got drunk last night. He took the sensible option of taking a cab home but forgot to lock the car up. Some toe rags stole their stuff. SHIT. Poor Mr Husband is going to be in the dog house for a while I guess. It’s funny how Mr Husband is going to get all the blame for this.

If you think about it, Alela’s anger should be with the thief. But that is easier said than done. RIGHT!!! I think it is too easy to vent at the people we love when really we should be grateful that they didn’t get themselves killed driving home when they are pissed. That aside I understand her frustration, just lock the fucking door moron.

I share this with Paul and try to swap the drunk husband and the thief in to an equation that to me makes sense (to me at least) of last night. Paul looks at me as if I am mental. When I go on to talk about forgiveness Pauls look changes for the worse. Jesus Paul, don’t shoot the messenger. I am not even drunk or slightly in charge of the car keys.

So now we can’t even talk about it, Mr Hyde’s shadow gives me a wink as it makes itself comfortable. I can almost hear him laughing.

London blurs into focus, Paul and I have our usual conversation. I don’t know why we do, it is always the same. Who is using which camera, what angles we will try to cut, what are the cutaway’s and remember to be running early and only cut on both being in agreement. Finally what style of questioning am I going to be using. We always do this same routine; I guess sometimes it’s good to remind ourselves. On set we are telepathic but that is what over two years of working together, it is now second nature we always know what the other one is doing and thinking.

Paul’s IPhone sat nave struggles to get us to Watkins Books but still after a few detours we arrive over an hour early. We unload and set up. Paul start to do some external establishing shots. The extras are milling around, half of them already in costume (POSH we are at a book launch party) the other half are still sporting ripped jeans. This is the stuff I love somewhere between fantasy and reality. The spell is being cast ….. The magic’s potential lingers. It is like waking up next to your girlfriend, she gives you eye contact before she starts kissing her way down your body. Her tongue circles your belly button before she continues her journey down. Then there is the moment of heaven or NOT see half the time they are just teasing you. Before you know it they go of for a piss and get ready for work. BITCH!!!! But boy you know that those are the keepers. Ha ha.

I am standing behind Paul watching the scene unfold. Paul Hills is in the middle talking to our 1st AD Panda. He glances at me and in that millisecond asks of we are rolling. I can’t for the life of me, tell you how he asked I just knew. I nod the slightest nod, the contract is signed. Five seconds later he walks slowly out of a parting sea of folk and meanders slowly to the camera. Without prompting he gives a twenty second sound bite before he exits camera right. PERFECT.

Within twenty minutes Hamer is of rooting around the camera team he is after footage of the action. I am relegated to my primary function of networking and “Clutching at straws”. As the Director of the Making of Documentary I have to find the story we are going to tell. Discover the journey we will be taking our audience along.

I love extras. I found one Capoeira martial artist and a Moroccan Model, Both are women and HOT. Pauls Hills PA Chiara is giggling in the background and constantly daring me with tasks as to who I should attempt to chat-up next. It is all harmless fun until Paul Hills comes up to me and says “I need an extra, a good extra, a lead extra and that means you!!!” SHIT !!!!!!!

I want to act cool on this blog and say this sort of thing doesn’t faze me or I hate this sort of thing, I don’t like the attention etc etc. But the truth is “I LOVE IT!” I love acting and I like to think I am fairly good at it too. I guess if you want you can judge for yourself by following this link to “A short film about a polish film director” I play the lead.

All that said, I don’t like being given less than five minutes to prepare a background story and get myself into a film acting space. By this I mean a piece of work that will be felt and identical every take. I love improvising and being free, but this is very rarely the way continuity works in the land of the extra.

I felt that Paul Hills has chosen me to play a character who is somehow lost from the flock. His age of 41 years and long hair in a pony-tail isolated, just reading a book gives him a stuffy air. Maybe it is simpler then that maybe he is just waiting for his partner to return from the toilet. However, when the group is set a simple story becomes obvious and fun. Diagonally opposite me the beautiful Moroccan model who is sporting a red dress and a fantastic red hat has been teamed up with the owner of the shop.

I quickly grab her away and we rapidly plan our background story. My character “Marcus” is a charlatan who comes to literary parties in the pursuit of younger women who will be impressed (he hopes) by his grandiose posturing and dubious literary background. She is new to London and is looking for friends, maybe more as it says in the personal adds (I am told. Obviously having never looked at one myself…. Good heavens I am far to cool for that sort of thing. LOL)

It is simple eye acting, fleeting glances. On the first take the intensity between us is so strong she leaves the shop owner and as the camera goes by and holds on to my hand never once losing eye contact. God she is beautiful the sort of girl who tricks you first thing in the morning when she needs a wee. She says she wants me to know her name (something we have not exchanged yet. Despite hanging out, outside.) I tell her she shouldn’t as it will break the tension in our meeting. Three takes later and Paul Hills is shouting from down stares “Fantastic, fantastic. Good work Magda, good work Ian Manson.

I was happy a really good piece of work done and an ecstatic director to boot.  I know you are probably thinking I am mental. Preparing a background story for what will essentially be about three seconds of behind the action extra work. But I figure if you are not prepared to commit to 100% for the thing you love the most then just STOP find something you love enough to give 100% too. I just can compromise I love film. I can’t compromise on love. Would you?….!! I would rather cut my guts open and grind my intestines into concrete. And that by the way would just be the appetiser.

As around 2 am we leave the book shop and head out to the Charing Cross road. In among the chaos of twirling and pukeing drunks, fights and the ever present night-prowler who have only mischief on their minds. I watch from a distance as Paul Hills and the Power Crew chase light.

My favourite moment of the night comes when we are pulling a long shot across the road. Just as the take is nearly over a bus races along the road and is destined to ruin the shot. Paul Hills steps into its path and raises his hands. He is wearing high visibility clothing. Either the bus driver does not see him or figures he has a weight advantage. Either way he doesn’t stop. Paul has to jump back on to the pavement with a split second to spare. The shot is ruined but now every member of the cast and crew knows how important this film is.

Hamer and I leave just before the wrap. The sun is coming up and we have a call time tomorrow which is ever approaching. Time for some Serge Gainsborg with our long de-brief on the drive home.

Ian Manson