The extra Extras.(Ken DaSilva-Hill) The extra Extras. or
Passing past times.




A few years ago I was invited to have a small part in a film which was being made at historic sites around London. These included Greenwich park, the Tower of London, a church in Spitalfields and Hampton Court Palace, as well as a few others. This was an historical drama ( some would say hysterical as it turned out ) so the actors, SA’s and extras were all booted, suited and dressed to kill in mid Victorian costume. Filming went on over several weeks, a couple of days at most locations, but for a continuous week at Hampton Court.
Filming is not as glamorous as it sounds. It involves much planning, is dependant on the weather and is a huge logistic exercise for the crews, the wardrobe, the gaffers and the directors. The actors are merely fodder.
Work for everyone usually starts at around five in the morning with breakfast, assembly and booking in. Then by six into costume and makeup. You can imagine that this is no easy task when there may be as many as two hundred folk to be dressed and assessed before filming can start. Usually after costume, the actors and other participants are photographed and led to various holding areas until filming begins. In these places it is usually a melee of familiar faces, chatting with friends and discussing agents, playing chess or reading a book or newspaper before one gets down to the real stuff. Sometimes it can be two or three hours before the actual work begins, and in my own case I fill the time by either making contacts that will prove useful in the future or by writing short stories.
Yep, filming is a bore!
One of the recent conditions on or near set, is the prohibited use of mobile phones or cameras, although I usually manage to smuggle an iPad into the holding areas so that I can work on the writing during the boring and often long periods between takes. With a coffee and the iPad I can amuse myself for hours as the time drifts past.
For me, filming at Hampton Court was interesting, as before I retired in 2005, I worked as a specialist fine art restorer, and at the time had full security clearance for the Royal Palaces. I had worked at Hampton court after the disastrous fire, caused by a knocked over candle in the roof, removing and restoring the many Gibbons wall carvings, and later had reinstalled the famous sundials, as well as removing the huge lantern on the square staircase for conservation. I had also gilded some of the heraldic coats of arms within the great hall, so I knew both the palace and some of the staff well.

Of course, being on set or in holding, one’s movements are very restricted, as you may be on call at any moment for either lighting checks or filming, but it was nice to be back in the old place.
Most of the sets were outdoors in the surrounding grounds, beautiful parkland where the lawns look to have been trimmed carefully with nail scissors, rather than mown, and the topiary attended to by skilled hairdressers instead of gardeners. I was particularly pleased to see that the eighteenth century fences where still in great shape, the heavy but bright gold leaf of the details glowing beautifully in the winter sunshine, contrasted by the glossy black of the ironwork.
My friend, and sometimes assistant, Pilar, had been involved in the re gilding and I felt that she would have been proud to see the result, still looking wonderful some years later after the conservation.

And it was winter. At six in the morning the lawns were covered in frost and rime, stretching a silvery lime green down towards Richmond alongside the river. These were the same lawns where later in the day we would be filming a summer picnic, with women in light chiffon dresses sitting on the grass, despite it still being early February.

My own part was that of a Victorian gentleman, which for me made a change from being cast as either a Doctor or some other class of criminal.
So there we were, waiting to be summoned before the cameras and directed by the crew - this is not like hard work, and do not believe any film actor who tells you it is.
Acting on stage and appearing live before an audience is another matter!

If you have ever been to Hampton Court you will have been told about the many ghosts said to haunt the old place. These range from the wailing type to the headless variety, through mad horse riders, and Kings consorts crying before being tortured because they could not, or had not, presented a son.
All of these ghosts apparently have their own favourite places in the palace, as well as their own personalities. Although I have worked there, and often alone and after dark when the tourists have gone, I have never ever seen even one, or ever heard a jangling chain, or detected a ghostly whisper in my ear.
One probably has to be a little more spiritual, or drunk with spirits than me, to witness them!

So there we were waiting the interminable wait before we were called to action on set. The big boys and girls were cosy in their mobile homes, the extras were crowding around the space heaters in their huge tent, and we middling ‘five liners’ were holed up in our converted London bus lounges, a poker game in full swing on the top of our particular one, where I imagine the earnings for the months filming was already being lost by some poor soul.
I sat below with my iPad, jotting down a few notes for a future story, and wondering if the promised Wi-Fi connection in our lounge bus would ever be switched on. The drivers had all disappeared, probably to the nearby Greenleaf cafe on Hampton bridge, and would probably not return until dark, unless it started to rain, so I was not hopeful.

From time to time an AD ( assistant director) would stick his head through the door to give us an update, then just as mysteriously melt into a cloud of radio static from his walkie talkie as he walked away. I am a radio ham, and have sometimes listened in to the crews conversations, I hope that some of the main actors don’t do the same.

Without any filming being started we slowly crept round to lunch time.
Film set lunches are usually very good, if a little hurried, and for the fifteen or so of us on the bus it was quite civilised. Of course the stars would have better than us and in nicer circumstances, but I felt for the extras who would be herded into long lines to shuffle forward to receive theirs in their huge tent. Before eating they would all be provided with plastic over suits to protect the costumes from drips and splashes, and as soon as the meal was finished they would be reinspected by makeup in case of any cabbage on the teeth was apparent or their lip stick or powder needed refreshing.
After lunch I put my feet up and allowed myself a little doze, nothing much seemed to be happening on set - another wasted day as plans were redrawn?
I awoke with a start, the bus seemed to be very quiet, the poker game having not started after lunch, perhaps. In the corner Terri was still struggling with the Daily Mail crossword which she had started at about seven in the morning, and she seemed oblivious to everything else as she listened to god knows what music on her headphones. The call had obviously not come yet.
I wiped the misty condensation from the inside of the cold bus window, and peered out into what had now become a gloomy and overcast day. Across the park it looked as though some filming had already started, folk in costume were strolling around, sitting on the grass and having what appeared to be a lovely time. A gaudily painted ice cream cart, topped by a large umbrella was dispensing ice cream to a line of people, and as I watched, a group of scruffy boys in tattered clothes ran past with sticks and hoops, down towards the long water. An accordion player sat on a bench busily pumping and stretching his instrument with gusto as he played, and a couple of nurses with large old fashioned prams chatted as they walked slowly by.
Two gentlemen seemed to be having a mild argument, as one suddenly threw down his newspaper, turned on his heel and walked briskly away, without even raising his hat to an old woman nearby. Although elderly, she was wonderfully dressed in a ruffled coat with puffed sleeves and an enormous hat with lace decoration. Costume had done well for her, I mused.
This was one of the most authentic scenes that I had ever witnessed, I thought I must congratulate the AD when I saw him next. The scene went on and on, and I expected to hear the shout of ‘Cut’ very soon, but it did not come. And then it dawned on me that I could see no crew, cameras or lighting dolly’s and reflector screens. Maybe this was being filmed from long shot, with a telephoto lens or, possibly, from a drone up in the sky above. I squinted into the gloomy sky but could see nothing.
Just then Terri called from the corner, ‘Hey Ken, come and help with this, just two words to go, and I have been trying all day’.
I left the window seat and joined her in the corner, it literally took seconds to solve the crossword clues. Just then the boys all came down noisily from the upper deck, accompanied by a junior AD. “Get you bag together Ken” he said, “early close today, but you will still get full rate, as the weather is no good for filming the picnic. If you are quick you can be out of costume and away before the extras start queuing”
“So what were you filming outside a few minutes ago?” I asked.
“No filming today Ken, he replied, not even a walk through for the boss, you must have been dreaming”.
But was I ? I had been awake enough to respond to Terri and her request for help. I scratched my head and packed away the iPad in my bag.

As I walked away from the bus, to get signed out, I decided to walk across the park on the way back and have a look at the scene, Terri decided to accompany me. We signed the book, took the chits and made our way back to the unit bus park. As we walked back along the broad path alongside the long water, Terri stooped down and picked up a small object. “Ho, that’s pretty” she said “ somebody will be sorry that they lost that”
In her hand was a small silver and coral babies toothing rattle, the type that a Victorian child may have thrown out of a pram, back in mid Victorian times. Carved and embossed it had five small bells around the rim, and tinkled merrily when shaken.
We walked on, and being now very curious about the whole thing I asked to see the rattle again. Terri looked into her bag where she had safely put the rattle, intending to hand it in to the security man on the nearby gate - it had gone!
We searched and searched but it had disappeared completely. We even reported our loss to the guard, explaining where we had found it. Gone for good.
So what had I witnessed?

Well, you never really know, do you?



Copyright - Ken DaSilva-Hill 2022
All intellectual rights to this work retained by the author.
No reproduction in any media without the authors written consent.

---