All hat, no play makes film a tough job

Lorraine Sommerfeld dissects innards of movie making on Canadian set

Lorraine Sommerfeld | Special to the Star

To paraphrase Norma Desmond, I, apparently, am not all that ready for my close-up.

In keeping with the adage that one should write what one knows, to write about the film industry I decided I should be in a film. I made a couple of calls, and started writing my Oscar acceptance speech.

I was aware that filming had been going on around southern Ontario for the film All Hat. It's from a novel written by one of my favourite authors, Brad Smith. The fact he's Canadian and doesn't write books that make you feel cold and isolated is a bonus. The fact he doesn't write about shopping and shoes is a further bonus.

Smith also wrote the screenplay. It took him three years to distill 308 pages of novel into 100 pages of script. All Hat is a modern western set in southern Ontario. It's a furious romp featuring racehorses, good guys, bad guys, pretty girls, fighting, loving and hilarious dialogue.

I decided, in conjunction with Smith and the movie's producer Jennifer Jonas of NewReal Films, to add "movie star'' to my eclectic resumé. Well, I called it that. They called it "one-line walk-on." Considering my formidable acting experience, which had peaked as the narrator of my Grade 4 Christmas pageant, I should have been thankful they were calling me for anything.

When I first read All Hat (the title comes from an old classic cowboy put-down, "he's all hat and no cattle"), I wrote Smith a note telling him I'd loved this romantic comic love story. He replied asking if I'd read the book he'd written. Interpretations aside, I knew I wanted this to be my movie debut.

I learned many things over my three-week involvement in the project. We had ongoing hurdles from the actor's union, ACTRA, for permission for me to speak three words. I admit one was hyphenated, but still. A little rule-tweaking in exchange for some decent publicity for the film, and the Canadian film industry as a whole, seemed like a no-brainer. ACTRA didn't seem to be sold on the idea of publicity being a positive thing.

We proceeded optimistically, and I joined the set for several days to get my bearings. I know this book inside out, I've read several versions of the script, and watching "my'' people come to life was beyond fun. I interacted with the crew, froze my butt off in the Fort Erie weather, and got soaked in a late night Hamilton rainstorm watching a fight scene. At one point when an actress misspoke a line, I helpfully pointed out the error. I was told we already had a director. Apparently, I was not being helpful.

I tried to stay out of the way, but everyone was happy to let me see this film through their eyes. I talked to a grip, the line producer, the continuity woman, electricians, the prop guy, the stunt co-ordinator, the horse wrangler, stand-ins, make-up people, the costume designer, the stills photographer, and assistant directors.

This village of people stands there from dawn till dusk in crazy weather to get four minutes of film per day. And they love it. All of them.

The director, Leonard Farlinger, would yell, "That was perfect! Now we do it again!" and they didn't even get crabby. I would have gotten crabby.

My first night on the set, I met the four lead actors. I looked at Luke Kirby, Keith Carradine, David Alpay and Noam Jenkins. I went over to Smith and told him he could write me up a love scene with any of them. He told me to go learn my three words and be quiet. I offered to remove the "no nudity" clause from my contract. He replied that I didn't have a contract and nobody wanted to see me nude.

After seeing Rachel Leigh Cook and Lisa Ray, the female leads, I realized none of these guys was going to take up my cause. I slunk away, newly aware of my artistic motivation. I'd heard this phrase on set a few times and had come to appreciate that every actor needs some.

Meantime, ACTRA kept turning us down. Producer Jennifer Jonas and the publicist, Suzanne Cheriton, kept upping the ante, offering cash to an actor's fund and trying anything to get me my three words. Every single aspect of a set falls under some jurisdiction or union, and if you witness an aberration on screen I can guarantee someone left a pint of blood behind in the ACTRA offices.

Initially the director decided I was going to be a waitress. As I was heading to wardrobe for some orange polyester, it was discovered I'd never been a waitress in real life. Because movie-time is not real-time, this meant I could be bearing a tray of drinks to actors over and over for eight hours.

Reshooting because your background waitress has dumped a tray of beers over the talent is costly. I was switched to a diner scene, where I walked into the shot, sat down at the counter and drank coffee. They asked me how I liked my coffee. I asked them how big my butt was going to look.

It wasn't the camera angle I'd been counting on. I was still thinking of Ms. Desmond's other famous line.

"We didn't need dialogue! We had faces!"