Not Easy, Not Energetic, Not Enthusiastic

It's early in the morning of my fourth day shooting O Sole Mio - a pleasant short comic film about a couple of  lovebirds set in an Italian restaurant. I'm one of two bodyguards to the heroine's father. (I know, regular readers - all three of you - are already aware of these facts, but in best tv serial tradition, new viewers readers have to be brought up to speed.)

Ten hours ago I expected to be on set at this time and so I dragged myself out of bed at 5.15, breakfasted, showered and shaved, and was about to tie my shoelaces when an apologetic text came through from producer / assistant director Diogo that I wouldn't be filmed before 11. I ought to have gone back to bed for another couple of hours, but the thought of undressing, half-dozing, being woken just when I really was falling asleep and getting dressed again didn't appeal, so instead I'm sitting at my computer with a mild headache and no energy for the day ahead.

A generic Italian restaurant
similar to the one we are filming in,
inserted because I couldn't find a more interesting picture

I'm not enthusiastic about this production for a number of reasons. I am putting in a lot of time for no financial reward - traveling to and from the set and hanging around doing nothing. So far I have appeared in five shots, which have taken not more than fifteen minutes out of the more than twenty-four hours I have devoted to this project so far. My sleep patterns are all over the place and the constantly changing schedule has meant that I missed a film at the BFI that I had wanted to see and already paid for. I'm calm and friendly on the exterior but grumpy underneath.

Worst of all, I'm annoyed that I can't be annoyed - the crew, film students at Ealing, may have been chaotic in their planning, but they are friendly, considerate, apologetic for the inconvenience they are causing us and generally Nice People. And they are putting together a good short comedy that will almost certainly get the crew and the leading actors noticed and further work. 

My main problem is with myself. I am not happy with what little contribution I have made to the project so far. It should be easy. My role is formulaic. Like all but one of the cast I have no lines. All I have been asked to do so far is a couple of reaction and movement shots. No-one is complaining about my contribution. Yet, yet... I feel like a fish out of water. I do not feel the part. I suspect that the camera sees not the monolithic figure of an ageing, cynical bodyguard, but an ordinary man who isn't quite sure what he is doing. Is my expression hard enough, am I the stereotype that this kind of film requires? Have my eyes moved smoothly, as the director instructed, or jerked as it felt to me that they did? Was my stance strong or weak? How do I convey in two seconds all my character and his impetus at that moment - his boredom, his single-mindedness, his need to protect the young woman against her will, his contempt for her suitor, his impatience with his colleague?

In other words, I am reminded again that acting is not easy and the more I do it, the less confident I become. And yet I can't stop myself. I have two more productions and an audition pencilled into my diary in the next eight days. None of them paid, but all of them a challenge. I'm obviously trying to prove something to myself. What that something is and whether it will make me happy is a question for another day.