A belt from his jacket gets caught in the bench slats, and he milks the moment like the old-school comic he is. Should be a hit on the blooper reel. For 20 minutes I'm told to walk up and down stairs, adding motion to a shot too distant to recognize myself. The stairs I climbed are right behind the box seats where Pitt and Reiner will work. I grab the first row, judge the camera angle and set up my big scene.
Life is good.
The second second-second assistant director says the front row is too crowded. Extras gobble plastic-wrapped sandwiches. The clubhouse gets stuffy, but those of us stuck in this kennel can't leave without risking the loss of our job. Smarter extras have playing cards and crossword puzzles. But for most of us, it's like being snowbound at an airport.