Tick Tock

After a wonderous day on Thursday, I strapped myself in and prepared myself for an almighty crash back down to earth. If I could be bothered, I'd go back and check where I left things on Friday but I know I can safely say that I was complaining about the lack of food. I'm sure there were numerous other complaints which were my parents to look at, they'd probably disown me and wonder how on earth their incredible parenting skills had resulted in such a whiny, ungrateful child.

Anyway, I have to admit that this weekend, on the whole, was pretty bloody fun. Much of it was spent running away from pretend monsters and if I wasn't doing that then I was either attacking them or screaming at them. Time in front of the camera, as always, was great. A monster-fighting heroine is not a role that comes my way very often so I've enjoyed it immensely. As the ravages of time take their hold, these parts are going to land at my increasingly achy feet less and less so I figure I need to make the most of them while people still foolishly let me have a go at them.

As usual, it was the time away from the camera that was tough. And it was namely to do with when I was due to finish. On Saturday, I'd been told that I'd be finishing by 5pm. Out of everyone on the shoot, I've probably been on set the most and after a 12 hour shoot on Friday, I was looking forward to a much shorter day. However, when I tell you that my lift to the location on Saturday morning was late by 45 minutes, you already know that my wrap time was becoming more unlikely than Scorsese coming up to me in Sainsburys, telling me how he loved my extensive work in student films and that he'd love to secure me a job in every shoot he's involved with between now and the end of time. Finally at the location, we were then subjected to another hour wait while the crew set up the first shot. Finally in front of the camera, everything went swimmingly and we started racing through the shots needed.

As we approached my wrap time, everything started to take longer. Everyone started messing about and the director suddenly decided that each shot needed at least 18 takes, regardless of how well the first one went. My 5pm home time started to become a distant memory and I was then promised I'd be done by 8pm. That time came and went and I was then told I'd be out by 9pm. 9pm struck and I was still waiting to shoot my final scene. Finally at 10pm I was done and was told that I could leave. With a spring in my step, I got my stuff together only to find that there was no one available to get me back to the station. Normally I'm fine getting myself to these places but time + darkness + south London on a Saturday night meant that my desperation to get home was overriden by my desperation to keep hold of my belongings and my face. Another half an hour passed before I was finally released back into the wild, kicking and screaming and wondering why my job has become putting up with these things.

Thankfully I've already seen some of the rushes and I'm confident that at the end of it all, I'm going to have a piece of work that I'm actually proud of. I mean, when I say proud, I actually mean a piece of work that doesn't make me want to hack off my own face the second someone mentions it. It's far from perfect and I'm sure my accent travels around so much that it's almost solely responsible for global warming but it's made by people who know what they're doing and care about these things so that's got to count for something, right? All they need to do is buy a massive clock and hire Dervla Kirwin to dub everything I say and it might just work out...

Shooting Gallery

Yesterday saw the last day of the first section of the shoot where I've spent most of my time worrying that I was going to kill someone with a hammer, blowtorch or my confusing Irish accent. I'm pleased to annouce that despite constant worries that my hands would suddenly lose control and I'd find myself launching a screwdriver at some poor unsuspecting person's face, no one was injured. Actually, that's a lie. One actor had their head smashed by a door but that had nothing to do with me. I was stood right by said door but, for once, it wasn't me who was at the centre of on-set carnage.

However, I'm pleased that I've set the right tone with the cast and crew. At one point in the film, I have to hold a lit blowtorch and inspire the other characters to rise up and beat the monsters. Just before the first take, the director asks if I can play the scene as cool as possible. This ignites immense laughter from the rest of the room, all in hysterics at the thought of me playing this. It seems that if you constantly walk into things, produce one of the only outtakes of the shoot by somehow managing to tangle up a whole bag of tools and drop everything handed to you, people think that you playing 'cool' is far beyond your already limited acting range. I mean, they're right. Had my parents decided to call me Jane then I can guarantee within a week that someone would've been well within their rights to add the 'calamity' prefix.

But it was a most lovely of last days. We were finally well fed and although it was another very long day, it was the mostest of funnest. How can you not enjoy a shoot where you get to run away from monsters and charge, screaming, into a room with a lit blowtorch in your hands. There were some dubious moments such as when I was asked to hold the blowtorch 'Charlie's Angel' style, the director forgetting the horrific consequences of adding a flame to skin. And then there was the scene where I had to throw a hammer three metres to another actor. This kind of thing is not my forte. As already explained, this is the type of situation that generally ends in ambulances, serious facial restructuring and drawn out lawsuits. However, by some miracle (and after a lot of tuition from the DOP), I managed to throw the hammer fifteen (yes, I counted) times without destroying anything apart from the right side of my back which is now home to a constant dull ache.

I've now got a gap of 10 days before we start the final section of the shoot. That's 10 days to to perfect my Irish, learn how to throw things and get myself a damn good lawyer.