Extras!

[krazykat42]

If this movie ever gets made, and if it is filmed in the US, who would want to be an extra? I mean some nobody in an epic battle scene?

I would! I would be willing to drive or fly anywhere just to be "warrior #3792." I would even do it for free!

Heck, I might even pay to see Elric taking my soul on the big sceen.

MM if you are reading this keep this in mind. Lots of free extras.

Wouold you consider being an extra for little or no pay?

Comments welcome :)

[DeeCrowSeer]

Although I've joked about it in the past, I'd be a rubbish Elric extra... unless they need some lazy types to lounge around in the court scenes. I don't mind being fed strips of Quorn-fashioned-to-resemble-human-flesh for the cause!

Given the choice though, I'd prefer to attend one of Jerry's parties... not in a film, just generally. :)

[xidrep]

Why don't we have a Jerry Party?
In Ladbroke Grove.
Eh?

[Michael Moorcock]

You can [i]AFFORD a party in Ladbroke Grove, these days ?
The Vatican's still living off the money they got for selling the Convent of the Poor Clares to the GLC...

[Miqque]

I've known a bunch of people who made a good living working as extras or "atmosphere" - as its now called. Usually it's about $50-100 a day, wear your own clothes (may not be relevant for a period piece, which Elric would be thought of as), and usually lunch or limited craft services (the snack table with the water and munchies).

Extras work long days, as they must be available for the whole shooting schedule. They are expected to show up on time wvia their own transportation, and stay available until the director (or AD) wraps for the day.

Rules include:
No acting!
Never look at a camera.
Keep moving.
Do what anybody tells you to do.
Be able to look like you're speaking without making a sound (or the folks in looping/ADR will getcha!)

Most of the time, it's standard-looking and -sized people who get the most atmosphere work. Notable looks (pink hair, height or lack of it, piercings) may not get you this kind of work, but it may get a non-speaking role. Singular looks and some ability to act is quite good for character acting.

Miqque's Hollywood Handbook
available for 12 easy payments of $299.99 ... ( :lol: )

[M-A_19]

Why don't we have a Jerry Party?
In Ladbroke Grove.
Eh?

Why don't we have an end of time party?

We simply must have a masquerade for prototype's launch, why I hear Gaf the horse in tears had made a new penis especially for the occassion!

[Etive]

Why don't we have an end of time party?

Great idea! I could do the catering; I have a dawn-age menu dating from the 21st. Is it authentic? I hope it's well tuned to a 21st century pallette.

[mordenkainen]

reloaded the page five times and I'm still not sure what it is...but it's a cool avatar anyway, etive :lol:

edit: the above was w/mozilla 1.4
Firefox displays it OK :?:

[Michael Moorcock]

Reminds me of an ad I hear on US TV from time to time which genuinely sounds like. You have to see the ad to know what it's really selling.

Try our SNOW CRAP
CRAP LEGS
SPICEY CRAP
and so forth. Can't remember the chain restaurant advertising all this crap, but it could be CRAP SHACK.

At first I thought it was a piece of surprising honesty. Much of the food advertised on TV does actually look as if it's been regurtitated at least once. A perfect symbol for that aspect of the consumer society.

There used to be a fairly good chip shop near the tube station at Ladbroke Grove. It's probably a Sino-Italian cuisine experience now.

I doubt if the present occupier of the ground floor and basement of 87 Ladbroke Grove would want to rent their premises. That was probably the key address between 1965 and 1975. After that the base moved to 51 Blenheim Crescent, just across the street. Same configuration...

Of course, if you could get hold of a Tardis, that might help.

[Miqque]

You wouldn't believe the long-distance charges I piled up last time I was in a Tardis....

[RobotArchie]

There used to be a fairly good chip shop near the tube station at Ladbroke Grove. It's probably a Sino-Italian cuisine experience now.

I doubt if the present occupier of the ground floor and basement of 87 Ladbroke Grove would want to rent their premises. That was probably the key address between 1965 and 1975. After that the base moved to 51 Blenheim Crescent, just across the street. Same configuration...

Of course, if you could get hold of a Tardis, that might help.

Soooooooo frightfully unfashionable dahling (dahlek) - everyone knows you posh lot went on over to 38 Oxford Gardens to scruff and make a mess on your butlers' days off. Had to go pick up your own chips! (chippie's still there as the fat hasn't given out yet). :lol: 8)

[Michael Moorcock]

Glad the fat hasn't run out yet. It's what gives the English fish and chip its distinctive taste. We were poorly served with chippies in the area, all in all -- you had to go to a good one at the top end of Portobello Road or to the actual posh ones at Notting Hill -- forgotten its name, but you had to book to get in much of the time. The best chippy in London when I was last there for any length of time is a secret I have learned to keep.
It's almost next door to one of the very best vegetarian Thali houses.
The second best chippy is the North Sea. If you're a taxi driver, you'll know where I'm talking about...
God, I miss the English chippy, even though it has reached its apotheosis in New England -- Boston and the coast of Maine especially -- where the porter's about the best, too. America is capable of producing some of the most degenerate ethnic cuisine inthe world and some of the finest,
depending, I suppose, on the experience and the will. However, that doesn't do me much good in Austin, since I don't like barbeque and I'm
allergic to Tex-Mex.
But I digress...

[Zax]

My recollections as to the best chippy in London are of The Rock and Sole Plaice (snappy, huh?) in Covent Garden. As with many of the best traditional British food outlets, in was actually run by Italians. This dated from the time when it was economically feasible to run a chippy in such a location.

There was a fine chippy just outside the campus of the university I went to. It was traditionally run by entrepreneurial graduates of said university, who would buy the place, make vast sums of money, then sell it on to the next lot.

There is, fortunately, an award-winning chippy on my local high street. This particular bastion of Olde Englishe Fayre is in fact run by aimiable Eastern Europeans, and more power to 'em. All this talk has made me decide to go and collect my lunch from there today. I'd do so right now, except it's about 9.30 in the morning.

Mike, did you ever actually eat at the Mountain Grill!? The sign was still up when I lived in Ladbroke Road in the early 80s, but I couldn't really tell if the place was still open for business. This may have been part of its vibe, of course...

Happened to pass by the old Derry and Toms building just the other day (now some faceless House of Fraser outlet). I understand the roof garden is still there and hireable. Now there's the venue for a Cornelius party, I'd have thought. Time was when I'd think of going to such a thing dressed as Jerry. Later I think I looked more like Shakey Mo Collier. These days I'd be lucky to pass for Major Nye.

M, can you now reveal who Mo was based on?!

[Michael Moorcock]

Linda and I used to eat lunch at the roof garden sometimes. Best time to go there. In the evening, at least when I last heard, it was a club mainly for plump suits.
I ate regularly at the Mountain Grill, run by George and Maria, for many years. If someone with a sense of history had had a camera, they probably could have caught virtually every rock superstar in the UK eating there at some point, though it remained, at least as long as I was around Ladbroke Grove, a standard cheap English caff where friends of mine would order mashed potatoe and tomato soup as a meal, and get it, because it was their childhood comfort food (if they came from poor homes). I tended to go with more standard fare -- two sausages, egg and chips and so on. Even though the place was often filled with coke dealers and crooks trying to sell bent stuff they couldn't shift in the market, it kept its character. Because it was possible to park a band bus a bit further up near what became known as Ladbroke Green, it was a useful place for bands to meet before they set off on a tour. There were some who believed the cafe on the other side of the road was superior, and strong arguments sometimes developed over that question. Barry Bayley tended to favour Mike's Cafe in Kensington Park Road (now the site of a distinctly upmarket restaurant) and we'd go there because it was closer to my flat, but I never accepted that it was better than the Mountain Grill. Linda, I should say, found them all much of a muchness and developed a horror of English cuisine based on my forcing her to take regular visits to the Mountain Grill.

[Zax]

I recall from 'Hollywood' how Mrs Moorcock also received dangerous levels of exposure to ' the ubiquitous Brussels sprout' and 'three kinds of potatoes with every meal'. Having grown up in Wales where the culinary tradition was much the same, I felt entirely sympathetic.

The Portobello in general is alamingly trendified these days, of course - sort of a slightly funkier Camden Lock, particularly around the built-under Westway. If Magic Michael turned up to perform there now he'd have to stand in the middle of a creperie or something similar. I remember walking down there once in suit-and-briefcase mode (I forget why - some meeting or other, no doubt, although I can't imagine where) and being warned by one of the few visible locals that someone might try to make off with the latter. A quick scout up and down the road revealed numerous tourists and any number of Laura Ashley-clad Kensington ladies who had drifted down from the antiques market, but no sign of any local bandits. I think my informant may just have been nostalgic for more colourful times.

On a later occasion I did at least come home with ten disposable cigarette lighters for آ£1. These I bought from a cheery old bloke who, with his associates, seemed to represent the last of the totters, now reduced to displaying a handful of goods on folding tables rather than barrows and clearly meeting up on their pitch more for social reasons than anything else. 'They work, too!' he exclaimed in all sincerity, as if I'd just won a rare prize. Only in England...