Behind the scenes photographs published in a story-synopsis magazine.

The drama of a first attempt at acting

Surirat Long Hon (Invisible Surirat). And I the mad scientist who managed to make her so. I swear the trees in my front yard at home were more graceful, less stiff and probably better actors than I was. Gangly, 25 years old, not a clue what I was doing, and on occasion having to hang upside down from a tree branch as I was trying to scare one or another character. As the series progressed, there were scenes where my slow progression to insanity would be highlighted, with me occasionally having to blank out and drool and whatever else needed to be done. (Trust me, Tom Cruise never had to do the things I had to do). But all in all it was a great time, and I still have a great time (most times) when I am called to work on a series of some sort or another.

From a series magazine, a picture with Meaunfun Mona Bundithsakul. In Thailand, each drama series will publish a magazine-format story synopsis, complete with pictures taken during production.

Working to meet deadlines

The things is, most people think working onset is a glamorous thing, and certainly the show that people watch seems as though everything was easy and went perfectly well – trust me, I have yet to work (either behind or in front of the camera) on a project that didn’t have some problem or another, and the very first series certainly had its moments. Yet I didn’t mind, and I found it all quite impressive. I probably should not tell too many tales out of school, but there are a few moments that have stayed with me from all those many years ago. In the ratings wars that were ongoing, and continue to this day, between the different stations, it was no uncommon for a show that was actually in production to be moved up for broadcast even though all episodes had not yet been shot (in one instance only 2 complete episodes had been completed and another 13 had to be done within a period of less than 6 weeks, but that’s another story). And so it was with this particular drama series. Luckily most episodes had already been shot, so although there was some pressure, it was still feasible to complete the series at a relatively relaxed pace, except for this one particular episode. Call time for the actors had been 7 am at a location in Bangkok. We showed up, had our breakfast, got our make up and hair done, got our costumes sorted, and then were told that a few other scenes would be shot first, including some location B-roll as we were waiting for one more actor to appear. 9 am became 10, which became 11, and soon it was noon, and we were still waiting. Finally we received word that the actor would not be able to make it due to a very heavy night. None of the team was too happy with this delay, as it was hot and humid, and very little had been accomplished. Worse, the scene that we needed to shoot had to be finished that afternoon as it needed to be edited into the episode to be aired that night. The script had to be rewritten, and a fax was received an hour later with a hand-written scene that would replace the planned scene. We got into gear, shot the scene in an hour, and had a messenger take the tape to the editing room an hour away. It was 4pm by the time the new scene arrived at the editing suite. The episode was re-edited with the new scene added in. By 7pm another messenger with the new episode on a fresh beta tape set off for the 1-hour drive to the television station. A second messenger with a second copy of the same episode set off 5 minutes later (as a back up to the first messenger just in case something happened). At 8pm the tape was received by the station, and by 9pm, the newly inserted scene was broadcast.

The long-suffering crew, on a day when things went well:)

Overcoming my fear

Luckily not all days were like this, and more often than not we would finish the day at around 9 or 10pm and head home. Except for one day; the day when I finally overcame my fear of cameras and I drove the entire crew to the edge of their patience. Like I said at the beginning, the trees were probably better actors than I was at the time, but I had slowly improved, and I didn’t fudge too many lines, and my pronunciation wasn’t too much of a disaster, and many other little things were overlooked by the director and other actors (thank you). Then came the night of destruction. I was the mad scientist, and I had been working on a machine that would make things invisible. I had managed to perform hundreds of experiments (according to the story), and yet, here I was, after all these experiments, unable to manage that last little feat of making something invisible. I knew I was close, but I was missing something, and the pressure to assist the lead actress in her quest to save her mother and regain her fortune were also affecting the scientist’s mind. The scene called for the scientist to throw up his arms in despair, then start at one side of the room, and swipe everything off the tables – test tubes, racks of things, files, papers, skipping over the two or three rabbits that were in cages, working along three walls, before finally coming to the fourth wall of the ‘laboratory’, where in one final violent swipe glassware was to be dashed to the floor at a specific spot, and I was to look straight ahead and scream at the top of my lungs in utter frustration, anger, and despair – right into the maw of a wide-angle lens less than a foot from my face. I imagined all sorts of things as a consequence – my crooked teeth would be bared for all to see; my uvula, that dangly little thing at the back of your throat, flapping wildly to the world; and god forbid, some morsel of food flying out into the camera in mid-scream.

I went around the room. All went well. I got to the wide-angle lens. And couldn’t scream. Never mind, let’s set up and do it again. Take 5. Take 10. I could hear low whispers in the background. The plastic tubes and stuff were taking a beating, and some were starting to crack (thank god it wasn’t glass we were using). Take 15, and the clock was ticking. We had started the scene at 9 pm, it was not nearing midnight. The director, bless his soul, remained patient (he is the most patient director I have ever worked with, and actually had the pleasure of working with him again more recently, but that’s another story). By 1 am we were on take 20, and frustration hung in the air. There were more whispers “newbie, this is what you get for hiring peope who don’t know how to act…. Etc.” I was livid with myself for not being able to do this simple thing of simply screaming into a camera. I asked for 5 minutes and walked off the set, berating myself, and trying to calm down. Take 21. Another 5 minute break and I was almost in tears with myself. I screwed up my nerves, walked back on set, said nothing, simply nodded, and the cameras started rolling. Sound – check, speed, check. 5, 4, 3, 2, …. ACTION!!! In my frustration and anger I swiped things off the tables, skipped the rabbits in their cages, threw paperwork to the ground, stamping on it as I went, lifted more tubes and accessories and dashed them to the floor. I turned the corner to wall four, and in my final moments of frustration picked up what ever object need to be tossed across the room, turned to the camera and screamed my lungs out.

There was dead silence for a moment, followed by an eerily quiet “Cut!”. The scene was done, take 22 was good. A collective sigh was released, and suddenly there was a lot of noise as equipment was being moved and carried away. It was a wrap.