LOST: GONE TOO FAR

What LOST Did To Me: The Six Year Journey to WTF?! (And Why I LOVED Every Minute)

2010-06-04T00:49:00.012-10:00

“Instead of dumbed down TV, LOST is dumbed up TV; it’s designed to make us all feel stupid.” – quote from Amy’s favorite LOST watching pal.

I openly admit it. The only reason I watched the very first episode of LOST was to scope out Matthew Fox. That man is totally hot and very sexy. As I watched that first hour, happily feeding my imaginary lust for, quite possibly, the grumpiest man on TV, I remember being impressed with nearly everything else I was seeing on the show. The set up was cool. The characters were interesting. That first hour was beautifully shot, written, produced – even the music was cool. I was impressed. THEN:

All of a sudden, out of nowhere, a loud, unknown, unseen, scary-as-all-get-out Thing snatches the pilot of Oceanic Flight 815 right out the fuselage. Pfft. Blood spatters on the window behind a freaked out Kate.

I never missed another episode.

WHAT LOST DID TO TV

When people ask me why they should watch LOST, my answer is always the same: One day you'll be sorry you didn't. When the sum total of human intelligence crystallizes into a vortex of unyielding creativity, it is indeed a beautiful thing, but when it happens on network television, son, you’d better thank your fucking lucky stars and pay attention. It won’t happen again in your lifetime.

In case you missed it, LOST just redefined TV for the 21st Century.

At a time when the most lucrative mass media products are reality TV and internet porn, Team LOST managed to put together (and pull off) a show that defies definition, breaks every rule and remains, to date, the most ambitious creative undertaking in television history.

Think about it. From its inception, LOST tossed out the Lowest Common Denominator theory of television viewers (that’s like you denying your own DNA, btw). More importantly: it forced a major studio (ABC/Disney) to create an entirely new marketing strategy specifically around this ONE show. That means ABC/Disney had to reconsider and redefine “the viewer.” [That almost never happens, like EVER]. And it did all this while, at least for the first few years, losing a fortune for the network in production costs.

[If that’s not the very definition of “most ambitious,” then I’m the frickin’ Queen of England.]

However, most importantly for us, it did all these things while satisfying the primal need that binds all human consciousness together: It told a fucking great story.

That’s what finally reeled me in for good. The level of collaboration required and the sheer magnitude of detailed visual and auditory story telling used to create LOST sets a new benchmark for the medium known as film/television [Media is plural form of Medium. It’s a Latin thing. Try not to let it bother you].

I couldn’t believe it then, and I can barely believe it now. This show broke boundaries all over creation, and it was still BRILLIANT. It still WORKED. It still made MONEY. It still told the STORY.

Only one problem: the story doesn’t make any sense.

WHAT LOST DID TO YOU

That’s right. I’m just gonna say it. On its surface, LOST makes NO SENSE whatsoever. Okay, boys and girls of TV watching land, what does that tell you? That’s right! You MUST look beyond the surface for it to make sense. It is not optional. You can not EVER take ANYTHING on LOST at face value.

This show has put the responsibility for how much you do or don't enjoying watching it directly on your shoulders. As soon as you stop looking beyond the surface, your enjoyment of the show fades. That is, if LOST makes no sense whatsoever to you and you hate it, then (according to LOST philosophy) it’s your fault because you wouldn’t look past the surface.

Basically, you're eating soup with a fork. You'll never get more than a taste, and you’ll always be hungry. [Bummer for you. It's really good soup.]

LOST’s primary message is fairly simple: Don’t judge a book by it’s cover (HA!). That is, don’t let the traditional blank-minded, spoon-fed, spongy, gimme-it mode of TV watching lead you astray.

In essence, LOST respectfully requests that you Mcwatch TV someplace else.

WHAT LOST DID TO ME

So that’s it in a nutshell, folks. Between breaking new ground, breaking the rules, redefining the viewer and demanding a minimum level of critical thinking and investigation from each and every viewer, LOST pushed me into the best of all possible worlds: The glorious land of academic investigation affectionately known as “WTF?!” [Ahhhhh-yes. The English major’s dream world].

LOST forced me to question my assumptions. It challenged me to find, consider and balance all the evidence. It made me think, rethink and then think again. It did all these things because I accepted LOST for what it is from the beginning: A puzzle, a riddle, and a great fucking story.

When credits rolled on “The End,” I was just as excited as I was when I watched the pilot. The show isn’t “finished” anymore than a puzzle is finished once you sort out all the edge pieces. Now that we finally have all the pieces, it’s time to begin. I’m totally jazzed to go all the way back to the beginning and start over for the last time.

Which, ironically enough, means watching Matthew Fox footage over and over for hours on end.

[Could this show be any more awesome? I don’t think so!]

LOST Fans, Start Your Disappointment

2010-05-08T20:17:00.004-10:00

[I've been getting terrific responses to my latest round of "What (TF) is going on on LOST" (keep it coming, lovely LOST readers!). Many responses were in the same vein, so I've created a separate post to address the primary question. If you're interested in learning more, check out LOSTblog.com, a LOST fan site for fans, by fans, about fans.]

Question: "What you're doing with your theory makes sense, but one thing gives me pause. How will Team LOST explain a complete backstory [of the island] like the one you outline here with only 4 hours left to go on the show?"

Answer: They won't.

I strongly advise we prepare ourselves accordingly.

The only way Team LOST can defintively demonstrate that the LOST world is like the one I describe in my theory posts (not physically real) would be to include a scene that shows someone working on or waking up OUTSIDE the system in the end. Problem is, that ONE scene will make 99% of LOST fans across the planet mad at Team LOST for all time.

There's no way on God's green Earth ABC/Disney will let that happen. My best guess is that LOST will resolve the current story line -- connecting, transferring and correcting everyone's personality in the "sideways" -- and that will be the only resolution we'll get. Period.

In short, I think they have NO intention of explaining the island at all.

RECALLING TOTAL RECALL

I'm betting LOST will play out the same way Total Recall did.

This 1990 film staring Arnold Swartzenegger was about "Douglas," a regular Joe content with his life, who goes to a facility [against the advice of his way-hot wife, Sharon Stone], where customers design the fantasy they want and pay to have it implanted as a VR/dream experience into their brains. Arnold skips the tropical vacation and chooses a fight-the-bad-guys, "guy" adventure. Unfortunately, something goes wrong during the implantation process, and he wakes up struggling and screaming about how his mission is being compromised. They knock him out. When he finally comes to, he unovers a corporate conspiracy that will kill everyone on Mars (don't ask). He starts killing everyone, mainly with whatever's handy, trying to get to Mars to expose the conspiracy and save the day.

Halfway-ish through the movie, his wife brings in a doctor who tells him everything he's currently experiencing is a dream. He is lost in a VR fantasy world experience. To "wake up" he'll need to take a pill to symbolically acknowledge "the truth" (kinda like pill choice in The Matrix). If he takes the pill, he'll wake up back in his old life and everything will be fine. If he refuses the pill, he'll be lost in this fantasy world forever and end up hopelessly insane.

Naturally, Arnold refuses, kills everyone (again) and continues on his "mission." The trick for us as the audience is this: it's NEVER clear in the film whether the doctor was telling the truth OR if he was part of the conspiracy. Basically, we never know if our guy has chosen to stay crazy or if he's beaten the bad guys at their own game.

In the end, Arnold's mission is successful, he gets the girl, rights the wrongs, and saves all the deformed-yet-psychic people on Mars (don't ask). However, everything that happens to him is the exact story line of the VR vacation he paid to have implanted at the beginning of the movie. When all is good and right in the world again (or Mars, in this case) Arnold says something about how it all seemed like a dream. Fade to black. Roll credits.

We could argue till the cows come home over whether or not Arnold's experience is "real" or not and never come up with a definitive answer. Neither side can be validated (as right OR wrong) because there's ZERO conclusive evidence anywhere in the film. When the film came out (and made a LOT of money), Team Total Recall specifically avoided revealing "the answer," saying that the film was designed to leave it up to the audience, and it was all part of the fun of enjoying the movie.

Fans didn't and still don't bother arguing about Total Recall because that movie was on this side of "who cares?" However, fans arguing about LOST, especially online, has been the show's bread and butter from the start. The show's ambiguity makes MONEY.

"LESBIANS EQUAL RATINGS" -- HOWARD STERN, PRIVATE PARTS (1997)

In the end, I think we'll be given what we were promised: an ending of the story via resolution of the characters. By that I mean we won't be left wondering whatever happened to Sayid or whether or not Sun and Jin escape her father for good or if Claire decides to keep Aaron or put him up for adoption. Those things will be resolved in the "New World," the sideways world.

We might EVEN be told what happens to "save the day" on the island (my call: Jack's gonna sacrifice himself to stop Mock Locke). Maybe.

But we will NOT be told where the island came from, or whatever was up with the flash forwards, or how these characters are shifting from the island to the "sideways world." The mechanics of the island, what happens to the island after the last lostie leaves, where Smokey came from -- all of those things will be left open to interpretation.

This does two things:

It fails to validate the teeny, tiny minority of fans (including ME) who can prove the story of LOST does not take place in a physical world (with the evidence). The shit we've put up with for the last six years will increase and continue, and we'll be marginalized for all time. [Thanks for nuthin,' guys.]
It creates a solid basis for ambiguity and debate that will continue to sell the series long after it ends.

Heed my warning! As the finale approaches, prepare yourself to NOT know anything definitive about the island. If this bothers you, consider: in the studio film/TV biz, regardless of ANY other factor, it always, always, ALWAYS comes down to the money in the end.

"THE END"

I'm so sure Team LOST is gonna screw me over, I already hate them for it. I figure, that way I won't be disappointed, and at least I'll get to be definitively right about SOMETHING. I'll still love the show, write about the show and hang out with myLOST pals. I'll still think the show is brilliant and benchmark and worthy of academic study.

But I'll never forgive them for this one act: condemning me and fans like me to a lifetime of helplessly arguing the evidence to a legion of fans who'll say, "If that's true, then why didn't they tell us?"

Do I understand it? Yes. Am I surprised? Not really.

Do I think it's unfair for them to ride the thematic fence like a bunch of spineless, mealy-mouthed, wishy-washy corporate whores?

Abso-fucking-lutely.

END NOTE

AMY'S ENDGAME THEORY: Basically, I think in the end ALL of our losties will "die" on the island, and whoever's the last one to "die" will make the difference. The island world will "disappear," the "sideways" world will remain, but we won't be told exactly how or why. I also think that Jack and Kate will hook up in the sideways world, but we'll only see the POTENTIAL for them to end up together. As in, Q: "What do you think happened to Jack and Kate after the show ended?" A: "I think it's obvious from what we saw that they end up together."

This post created by Amy/aohora for LOSTblog.com.

TheFuselage.com - How To Be Banned Without Even Trying

2009-09-19T18:42:00.059-10:00

The F-Word

On a scale of 1-10, my love and admiration for the F-Word registers just over 15.

I was seven before I knew it existed. I was on a walk with my dad and little brother, (a pre-dinner routine designed to keep us all out of Mom's hair). As I trailed behind them stomping on pine cones and poking dead birds with my stick, I spotted a strange word spray-painted in bold, blue, block letters under a sewer grate. When I caught up to my dad, he took my hand and said, "What's on your mind, babygirl?" I smiled up at him, pigtails bouncing, and said: "Daddy, what's a fuck?"

Because "Asking questions is a great way to find things out!"*

My poor dad -- life-long Southern Baptist and possibly the only career naval aviator who didn't "swear like a sailor" -- kept his cool. When he could finally speak, he simply said "that word" was a "really bad word" for "having sex to make a baby."

[My parents never just said "sex." They always said "sex to make a baby." Until I started reading July Blume books, I thought my parents'd only had sex twice.]

My dad's explanation was pretty straightforward, but I remember having lots of questions anyway. I said, "Someone made up a bad word for something people do all the time? Why would anyone do that? That's just dumb!" (Which, oddly enough, was very close to what I said when Mom explained how she ended up pregnant with my brother.)

Dad didn't have any of those answers, but he was emphatic about one thing: saying the F-Word was a sin, and from then on, he expected me not to say or write "that word" because it was the "worst word you can say." In Dad-Speak this meant: If you use it, God will be mad, Jesus will be sad and I will whup you beyond recognition.

The F-Word in History

The most common myth explaining the origin of the F-Word is that it's an acronym for "Found Under Carnal Knowledge" or "Fornication Under Consent/Command of the King." However, according to linguist Reinhold Aman, Ph.D., as quoted in the film F**K: A Documentary (2006),** that's "100 percent bullshit." The truth is no one really knows where the F-Word came from. Linguists are pretty sure that it's German in origin and has been in use for thousands (yes, I said thousands) of years as a word for sex (as a verb or noun). But other than that, it's anyone's guess!

It's only in the 20th Century that the F-Word has developed into the word we use/don't use today. Its linguistic versatility was developed by members of the U.S. military during WWI/II. As of today, there's nothing the F-Word can't be or do in a sentence.

Sam Donaldson, correspondent, ABC News says it best:

"The F-Word is a grand word. And it has I don't know how many different meanings depending on the inflection, depending on the look, depending on the person you're talking to or people. It's one of those all purpose words." -- in F**k: A Documentary (2006)

My favorite thing that the F-Word can do is clarify meaning that might otherwise be ambiguous. For example, If I say "What are you doing?" I might just be curious, I might be irritated, I might be filled with happy surprise -- it's just not clear.

However, if I say, "What the fuck are you doing?" you know that 1) I'm not happy about what you're doing and 2) you need to explain your actions immediately. What's more, if I say "What the FUCK are you doing?!" you know you need to cease and desist before I bitch-slap you AND you'd better have a primo explanation that satisfies me or you're in big (fucking) trouble.

However it's used, the F-Word is (and has always been) considered taboo in U.S. culture. It's listed as one of a handful of words deemed "obscene" by the FCC and can not be used in public transmissions, such as network T.V. and radio. Using it anyway earns the station or network a penalty, usually a hefty fine. As such, it's been a focus of argument over the First Amendment (that slippery "free speech" amendment. You know, the one that comes right before that tricky "right to bear arms" amendment).

The truth is there are actually three sides to the F-Word argument:

1. The F-Word is obscene. It's only used by low-class or vulgar people. I do not watch/listen to movies/T.V./radio stations or shows that use it. I avoid places where it is freely used. I don't want to hear it, I don't want my children to hear it, a nd I should be able to walk down the street, turn on the T.V. or radio, and purchase music without hearing or worrying about hearing it.

2. The F-Word = free speech. It's a great word! I like saying it. I should be able to say it whenever I want to, in my work or in public. The government should not be able to stop me from saying it because I'm guaranteed the right to say it by the First Amendment. People who claim it should be banned are a) hypocrites or unenlightened and b) supporting censorship of the people by the government. After all, it's only a word, and it's only a bad word because people choose to be offended by it.

3. The F-Word is optional and should be used responsibly.

Mind Your Manners

I fall squarely on number 3. I think both sides of the issue are missing the point. The question is not whether or not you can or should be able say it wherever and whenever you want, and it's not about considering or not considering it a 'dirty' word.

Use of the F-Word is a question of common courtesy. There are rules, and following these rules are important. Following the rules means you give a shit about the people around you. Following the F-Word rules is just Good Manners.

That's right! I said Good Manners.

[BTW - THE "Miss Manners," Judith Martin, was interviewed for F**k: A Documentary. So was Ron Jeremy - EW! I'm sorry, but that man is disgusting.]

Perhaps you're saying: Manners?! Nobody cares about manners! Manners are for stooges and old people! Manners are for snobs and debutants! Real people don't care about manners!

Well, did you say 'Thank you' today? Did you say 'Excuse me?' Did you hold the door open for the person behind you? Did you wait for people to exit the elevator before entering it? (if not, start doing it! That's really annoying!)

If you did any of those things, you were using nice manners. (Good

for you!)

Simply put, manners are the basic ritual behaviors we tend to exhibit around other people, especially people we don't know. They are designed to facilitate neutral or positive interaction with each other. If we all have good manners (and use the same manners), there is less of a chance for miscommunication and/or conflict and more of a chance for getting along and/or getting laid.

[Seriously, fellas. Nothing makes you look better to us than having good manners. Chew with your mouths closed! Open the door for us! Always have two condoms in your wallet!***]

I look at the F-Word the same way. I follow the rules, and if you think about it, you probably do too.

F-WORD RULES:

The F-Word is Appropriate if -

1. You are in an extreme situation.

2. You are around people you KNOW use and/or don't mind hearing it.

3. You use it to earn a living.

4. You have warned whoever's gonna hear it that it's coming (Rated 'R')

The F-Word is NOT Appropriate -

1. In front of children.

2. In front of old people or someone else's parents.

3. In front of obviously religious people.

4. In no-brainer venues: a church, a school, an internationally televised awards show, etc.

5. In front of people with social or political clout.

6. In public where children, old people, obviously religious people, someone else's parents or people with social or political clout could be within earshot or might hear you if you yell really loud.

7. In abundance or when it's not necessary.

That last one is a pet peeve of mine. I mean, there are definitely times when there is no substitute. Sometimes the F-Word is so appropriate, you don't even have to say it. You can just leave it blank in the sentence, and anyone listening to you will automatically fill it in.

"So then he slammed the door in my face. And I'm, like, what the____just happened?!"

And even if you use a substitute word, everyone listening to you knows exactly what word you mean.

"You're outta your frickin/flippin/friggin/effing mind!"

The problem is some people just don't know how to use it properly or they use it every other word to what? Prove a point? Look really tough? I dunno. But they end up just looking stupid.

This happened on the pilot of The Wire. I'd been told I really needed to watch the show because it was "brilliant," but the only thing brilliant about the pilot was how brilliantly Ed Burns managed to prove that he still doesn't know how to cuss. I swear, if you took out all the F-Words and references to sex or cocks in that script, it would only be 4 minutes long. Luckily, someone recognized the problem and put Ed back in the "story by" box about 3 shows in, which was just about the time I was ready to give up. After that happened, I couldn't STOP watching it. Turns out, The Wire is one of the best written shows I've ever seen.

But not until it started using the F-Word correctly.

Cyberswearing

One day, we'll all look back at LOST and say, "So that's when the internet tie-in was born!" Even I have trouble imagining LOST without spoiler sites (HATE THEM), forums and media bites, and I'm not that much of an online follower. In fact, I've only tapped into three sites total, ABC.com/lost, DarkUFO.com and TheFuselage.com, and I didn't even sign in to the first one until after Season 3.

I posted my first theory (The Casimir Easter Egg Effect) at the ABC.com forum in November of 2007. It didn't take long for me to be totally sick of it the site, tho. It was disorganized, impossible to search and there was no check on users that were being rude and stupid. I bailed. Who needs that aggravation?

I switched to DarkUFO.com, a LOST fansite started in the U.K. by a really nice guy named Andy Page. DarkUFO.com was (and still is) well organized and has rules for users and folks called moderators (Mods) to monitor users and make sure the rules are followed. Spoilers are the biggest issue, and Andy is right on top of any dumb-asses who post spoilers where they aren't supposed to. Users can be banned for any kind of rude behavior, but posting a spoiler in a non-spoiler thread is a HUGE no-no.

TheFuselage.com is NOT a fan created site. It was an experimental site sponsored by J.J. Abrams, the creator of LOST, to help promote the show and, I assume, get fan

feedback, where users can post about the show with each other or post questions for any one of the many folks who work on the show, the actors, the writers, the producers, etc. (a.k.a. VIPs).

(I don't know about originally, but I do know that as of today, only Jorge Garcia ever answers fan questions.)

I must confess, I only joined TheFuselage.com to complain about "Stranger In a Strange Land." That's the show where we learn how Jack got his tattoos (and where he got half naked with Bai Ling). That's also the show that was SO bad, it convinced ABC/Disney to let Damon and Carlton end the show in six seasons. And it was BAD. It sucked so much, I joined the website and wrote a note to somebody (I can't remember which one but I think it was J.J.) basically begging them to NEVER make a show that wretched again.

[You know what irks me? I'm convinced that something really important happened in that show, and I still haven't figured it out!]

Online, the same F-Word rules apply (they apply to all swear words, actually). There are places where it's no big deal, and there are places where it's unacceptable. Andy's page didn't publicly post swear words, but the occasional use of them in the publically posted comments never bothered him at all. (Folks in the U.K. are just more relaxed about that kind of thing). But over at TheFuselage, swear words were not allowed (I'm guessing probably because of the Disney connection to the site/show. Or maybe J.J.'s a priss. I dunno.).

Instead of banning their use, the site has an automatic swear word filter. That way you could post whatever words you wanted (as long as they didn't break any of the other rules for forum behavior), and the filter would make them acceptable. Instead of fuck, shit and ass, the site would show f***, s*** and ***. So everyone knew what the user had to say, but no one had to actually read the swear words. Apparently, that was not enough! March of 2008, TheFuselage started using a NEW swear word filter that changed swear words into more palatable fare.

Here comes myself! Happy as a clam and posting every so often on the site, mainly to Matthew Fox (because he's my FAVorite). Actually, I posted a question about reports he was a diva, and it got deleted, so I wrote a Matthew Fox defense response and posted the link (to this very blog!). I also posted a note to him after catching him grinning his frickin' head off while using the fire hose to put out Ben's Dharma fire. However, other than the occasional discussion post, I rarely used the site. Users are actually ranked by how many posts they've put up, and I topped out at 37 posts over the past 2 years.

The Incident: Online Version

Not long after the new filter went into effect, I put up a post, (I think to Carlton) and I didn't worry about using the F-Word because of the filter (and I've heard Carlton say it's one of his favorite words!). But when I hit the submit button, instead of replacing fuck with f***, the swear word filter had replaced it with 'cluck.' That's right - CLUCK. I thought, hmm, that's strange (and really ridiculous!), so I edited my post and instead of fuck, I typed f*** to get around the filter.

And I got pinged! My post disappeared, and I got a message that I'd earned 2 points (basically demerits for breaking the rules) for going around the swear word filter and "posting frivolous/chatty comments instead of a question." See, there are all these complicated rules about how many points you earn over a certain time period and what will get you points or how repeat offenses get you banned from the site (blah, blah, blah). I had offended, and I was "punished."

And that was fine. I didn't go around the swear word filter again, and my points disappeared after a month or so. However, I could not help making fun of the filter with other members of the site.

It changes FUCK into CLUCK! Come on, people, that shit is funny!

After the season finale of Fringe (May 2009), I got all jazzed because I'd figured something cool out about LOST from Fringe! I was so jazzed that I thought I'd leave posts, each one different, for J.J., Damon, Carlton AND Matthew Fox (for a grand total

of FOUR). And I openly admit it -- I used swear words (not around the filter), but I used them while basically saying how smart/sneaky they were and how I thought what they were doing was brilliant! I had to make my messages cryptic to make sure I didn't post any spoilers, so they were pretty short. The LOST Season 5 finale hadn't aired yet, and I didn't want ANYONE to accuse me of blowing it!

And because the swear word filter was working just fine, and since I still thought it was pretty damned funny, I used one of my favorite phrases, which came up like this:

"Mother clucking piece of crap, that show was awesome!"

Funny, right?

Well, funny doesn't get you very far on TheFuselage. Within 24 hours my posts were gone! Not only those posts, but EVERY post I'd ever put up for any of the creative folks on the show AND a few theory posts as well. So of my 37 posts, 20 were deleted. I found this out because when I tried to log into the site, I couldn't do anything! I couldn't even LOOK at anything except my profile (which I had never bothered to fill out) and my message box, which was empty. YUP. No explanation, no official "this is what you did, and this is what we're doing to you" message, no points, NOTHING.

So I sent a message to a mod on the site. First contact -- ThePartyman.

Message-O-Rama: aohora v. Mods

To: ThePartyman, "Ultra Moderator"

From: aohora

05/15/09

ME: I picked your name at random. Sorry if you're the wrong person! Whatever's going on with my account and posts is fine with me. I never got an explanation, but I'm not too worried about it. However, my ability to SEARCH has been disabled. Any way I can get that reinstated? Thanks,

And he responded fairly quickly.

From: ThePartyman

To: aohora

Hi,

As far as I can tell there is nothing "going on" with your account, aside from a large number of your posts having to be deleted due to a disregard for the language rules and filters, and spamming in certain VIP threads.

If you are having issues using the search fucntion, I suspect it could be simply due to the high ammounts of traffic the site has ben getting recently.
During peak periods, the search function is turned off for many users, and priority is given to subscribers and older members. With only 18 posts to your account it may be that you are suffering from this during busy periods at the site, which there a lot of recently.

I hope that helps

The Partyman

Spam? What's that about? Hm.

Message to: ThePartyman

From: aohora

Date: 5/15/09

Thanks! I'll try again when things settle down. Yeah, I'm confused about the spamming thing. I don't see it, but I'm not online all that often. My protocol might be dusty.

(Are you noticing how nice and polite I'm being?)

ThePartyman Response:

I suggest re-reading the FAQ, there is information there about what is considered spam, and what is/not acceptable in the VIP forums etc. If you continue to encounter technical issues in the ong-term, maybe drop Karri or Artie a PM.

Two weeks later, there's still no change to my account OR explanation, so I followed ThePartyman's advice and sent a message to Karri.

Message to: Karri

From: aohora

Date: 6/1/09

When I try to post or search, I get the "you've been disabled" message. If that continues, is there someone else I should message? I really just want to be able to search the site.

Thanks again!

Karri's Response: ---------

I never got a response. However, not long after I sent the message, magically, my ability to search the site was enabled, but I still couldn't post messages in the VIP section, so I sent another note to Karri.

Message to: Karri

From: aohora

Date: 06/06/09

ME: Why am I still disabled from posting to the Lost VIPs?

Karri's Response:
Because of the 20 or so rude posts made to the vips that were laced with foul language that had to be filtered by the censor.

And that, my friends, was that.

Thou Shalt Not Bend The Rules

MONTHS later, I am still banned from posting to the VIPs, and I can honestly say, who cares? If J.J. et al don't like being told how awesome they are, that's their problem. And it's not my fault if Matthew Fox only gets 11 messages in 2 years (5 of which were mine).

HOWEVER, being banned for foul language has never made sense to me! If the swear word filter is working, why would I be banned for using foul language? Isn't preventing foul language the filter's job? I'm being banned because the filter worked?

Then I found the answer, buried deep in the Terms of Use. It said:

"Constant and willful pushing against the limits described herein, what some would call 'almost breaking the rules,' will not be tolerated."

[Because pushing the limits and almost breaking the rules is not the LOST way. Snerk. ]

So I did the only thing I could do. I filled out my profile info. So if you look me up on TheFuselage.com, you'll read:

About aohora:

Biography:
Currently banned from posting anything to the creative team due to poking fun at the swear word filter.

Location:
Aloha!

Interests:

Interested to know, if filter filtered out swear words, why banishment is necessary.

Occupation:
Feel certain was placed on Earth to poke fun at swear word filters that replace F*** with Cluck.

Custom Title:
Acutely Subversive (yet fetching)

Personal Text:
"Are you effing kidding me?"

THE END

NOTES:

*Slogan on Sesame Street, a PBS children's educational program.

**If you think you might want to watch F**k: A Documentary, you should know that it uses the F-Word over 800 times.

***4 condoms is ideal - 2 for you, 2 for your wingman. Spread the Health!

The Magic Show

2009-08-15T03:36:00.063-10:00

So, I was an extra on LOST in Season 5 too.

Thank Yer Lucky Stars!

I promised my pals that I'd keep this down to one post (lazy bastards!). That won't be hard to do this time around because:

1. I was without Mary.
2. I was finished by 11 a.m.
3. I brought a small paper bag full of Halloween candy (the good stuff).
4. Matthew Fox was about 4 feet away from me the entire time he was shooting.

First off, I have to tell you that I was a last minute hire. I was called at Friday, 5:30 p.m. to come in Monday morning at 5:30 a.m. to be the receptionist at the old folks home where Jack meets up with his Granddad. I'm pretty sure the only reason they called me is because I listed "Available days with 24 hour notice and nights with 1 hour notice" at the bottom of my mini resume in VERY BIG, BOLD LETTERS, (so I'll be sure to put that at the TOP of my resume for Season 6).

As before, my caller congratulated me for "making it" and let me know that this shoot was super special because I'd be one of 4 extras on set under the age of 65. She told me to "dress appropriately" and call the magic number. She offhandedly mentioned Matthew Fox would be there but was more concerned that I remember to bring pantyhose. I told her, no problemo on the pantyhose, chica! I'm down!

I called Mary immediately to tell her the news. She told me that she'd be and extra that week as well. You see, after a year of living in Hawai'i, poor Mary couldn't find a decent paying job, so she decided it was time to head back to the mainland. However, she didn't want to leave without giving the extra thing one more go. So she called up Grass Skirt Productions and explained the situation (i.e. did "The Mary"). The lady was instantly sympathetic and told Mary she'd see what she could do. Sure enough, a few days later Mary got the call to be background for the scene where everyone meets up at the airport (before relanding on the island).

The lady must have put some kind of note on Mary's resume because when she arrived, wardrobe had a pilot's uniform ready for her to wear! Mary now has the distinction of being the ONLY female pilot EVER on the show (something Jorge Garcia noted when they were standing around together).

This is also the shoot where Mary discovered that she despises Matthew Fox.

The Old Folks Home

After I was fitted at wardrobe (with a perfectly bland but not horrifically ugly outfit), I was shipped out with the two extras playing orderlies. Wes, a University of Hawai'i undergrad, was a bit standoffish in that "I'm really hot, so I don't want you to accidentally think I'm interested in you if I'm nice to you" way, but the other guy, Todd, was very friendly (eventually, I won Wes over with Reese's Peanut Butter Cups). Turns out, Todd is actually an orderly at The Arcadia, where we were shooting. He was called OVER THE WEEKEND to work the shoot on his day off (he didn't get overtime, tho, just the crap extra pay).

Todd was great to talk to because he was happy to gossip about the home. You should know that if you want to put your favorite old person in The Arcadia, you'll pony up $8,000 a month for the privilege. Yeah, 8 THOUSAND dollars every month! And this is in addition to 1) "buying" your room (called an "Entrance Fee," anywhere from 100 to 400 THOUSAND dollars) and 2) any medical expenses not covered by your medical insurance. He said that was why the orderlies and aids did everything they could to prevent the "patients" from falling and busting a hip or something. Medical treatment was not covered by the rent.

(8 GRAND. A MONTH. Barbaric!!)

When we arrived, we were led downstairs to have name tags made and learned that our P.A. for the day would be Norman Kali.

Norman, besides being very cool, is a local legend in these here parts. First, he is the only P.A. that's part native Hawaiian (related to the original guys on the islands before the white people landed). Second, he's been working with LOST since the pilot and has worked his way from the bottom rung to arrive at "The Director Talks to Me" P.A. status (aka assistant director) just under Uber P.A. These two things make him a Big Deal to the general public. (They also, in my opinion, seem to protect him from the major shit when things go wrong.)

For example, Norman left Todd and me standing outside while he put Wes where he needed to be. While we were waiting, I gave Todd the skinny on STAYING PUT and knowing your P.A.'s name. Sure enough, it wasn't long before Uber P.A. (the same one that sputtered in front of Victoria Hamel at Christian's funeral) charged up to us and asked us why we were standing around. I told him that Norman put us there. Uber P.A. didn't miss a beat but hollered for Norman who magically appeared (he's THAT good). Uber P.A. said, "Find something for these two to do or just stick them inside outta the way."

Remember: POTTED PLANT.

Todd and I were sent inside and told to relax on the couches. We chatted for a while, but since he was an employee, all the old people wanted to know what he was up to on his day off, and I lost track of him for the rest of the day. I was a little out of it, so I lay down on the couch and plugged my ears with an ipod.

I'll tell you a little secret. If you are wearing an ipod and look like you might be sleeping, EVERYONE assumes that you can't hear them. AND if you leave said ipod OFF and lie still, you can hear some pretty cool stuff!

What I heard were two nurse aids, both female, sharing their concerns about the shoot. First, they laughed and admitted that it was weird to see mostly haoles (Hawaiian term for white people, pronounced HOW-lee) in the dining room and lobby. But, as one of them said, that's what they said they wanted when they asked for people to volunteer, as many haoles as you can find. These two also shared concerns that the shoot would cause some problems with the patients.

You see, what residents get for laying down an obscene amount of money is the full treatment. The Arcadia isn't run like any old old folks' home. It's run like a 5 star hotel, where every concern and complaint by every resident is sincerely considered and immediately tended to. It's full on, first class, premium service, and any interruption of that service creates alarm (and complaining).

These ladies were very respectful discussing their patients (respecting the elderly is one of the cool cultural things ingrained into everyone in Hawai'i), but they shared a few names of patients who were upset by the shoot because it interrupted their routine. These old folks could give a shit about filming LOST. They wanted to know why mid-morning bingo was canceled!

The last extra I met on set was Janet. She played a nurse, which worked out because she actually WAS a nurse (but not at The Arcadia). This was her first time, and since she was a fidgety-type person, she peppered me with tons of questions, mainly about why we were waiting around so much instead of shooting.

As we were talking, Mr. P.A. Man, the one who told me to "show some RESPECT the CLOTHES!" at Christian's funeral, walked by! I cringed and briefly and quietly filled Janet in on the story. Janet said, "Oh my God! That guy looks just like the drunk I hired 2 years ago to paint my garage!"

(Yep. Instantly in love with Janet.)

God Bless Those Camera Angles

Finally, after waiting for nearly 2 hours, we started shooting the scene. "Jack" was to walk past the desk with "Mr. Dorsey," who then stopped at the desk while "Jack" did his thing.

Okay, take a good, long look at the picture here (CLICK PIC TO ENLARGE). See that big stone wall? Keep that in mind because it's funny later.

Now look at Matthew Fox dead center in the background. See that desk behind him with the teeny, tiny guy with his back to the room? Just right of that guy is a big post with a nurse just on the other side. That teeny, tiny guy is "Mr. Dorsey" played by Ned Van Zandt (see top picture for close up). The nurse is Janet.

The scene, if you remember, runs like this: Mr. Dorsey shows Jack into the room. Jack goes and talks to his Granddad (surprise!). In the background, Mr. Dorsey "chats" at the desk, and the nurse puts a piece of paper on the desk and keeps going.

Notice anything missing? THAT'S RIGHT! Because I was sitting at the desk in front of Mr. Dorsey and the post was blocking me, I WAS NOT ON CAMERA! That meant that I got to enjoy everything about being on the set WITHOUT catching Uber P.A.'s eye. As long as I didn't manage to really piss off Matthew Fox, I was golden!

Here's the summary:

1. The real receptionist's name was Gail, and she was a lot of fun. Between fielding calls from patients (mainly complaints), she and I spent a lot of time talking about Dustin, the location scout guy, and how much she was "cougar" crushing on him.

2. Ned Van Zandt is way cool. We got to chat quite a bit, mostly making fun of the fact that he had to pretend to talk to me. Gail set me up on the internet, and I looked Ned up. Turns out his first SAG job was on The Hardy Boys show. I asked him if Shaun Cassidy was a total bitch. He said, "Nah, he wasn't too bad."

3. Janet had to spend a lot of time standing right next to Matthew Fox (waiting for "Action!"), and he was making her pretty nervous. Remember how she was supposed to drop off a piece of paper on the desk and then retrieve it to start all over again? To help her out, I wrote messages on the paper between takes. Messages like, "Janet is chickenshit for not flirting with Matthew Fox!" and, "Tell Hotboy to smile! He's depressing the rest of us!" Every new message would make her laugh, and then she spent her waiting time hiding the paper so Matthew Fox wouldn't see it!

4. Remember the huge stone wall in the picture? Well, there was a pile of people behind that wall. Some were stand-ins (Ned's stand-in was a very nice ESL teacher named Paul), a few were production guys (including Gail's boy-toy object, Dustin), but there were also a few staff members from The Arcadia specifically there to wrangle patients wandering by.

The Funniest Damn Thing

One of the old people wandering by was this little old lady - white hair in a tight bun, small, bony, wrinkled, huge thick glasses - everything a crabby old lady should be. She was wheeling her oxygen tank behind her (with those tube thingys in her nose), and she went straight for a wall phone and started making a call. Unfortunately, that wall phone was right next to where Janet, MF and Ned were waiting, AND it was at the exact moment right before the director calls action, when everyone is completely silent and ready to go.

One of the staff wranglers tried to talk her back behind the wall, but she wasn't having it. She (loudly) said she was calling a taxi because she had a doctor's appointment (you stupid bitch!), shook off the handler and proceeded with her business. So the ENTIRE room full of people (silently standing at attention ready for "Action") had to listen to this now thoroughly irritated old lady call for a cab. When she was done, she wheeled her tank straight out the front door, oblivious to Janet, MF and Ned hopping out of her way. Once she was gone, the director called Action and things went on as usual.

Except now I was face down on the desk silently laughing my ass off.

I kept laughing, too, while Ned was "talking" to me, and he started to crack up! He said, "You're going to get me in trouble!" and from then on when he pretended to "talk" to me, he made a joke of it like, "You better start taking your job seriously, missy!" or "I expect my staff to remain professional!"

[I can't emphasize how nice Ned was. He was totally excited to be there, too. He even asked for a call sheet at the end of the day to keep as a souvenir!]

Eventually, I did end up on screen. Norman pulled me out to pin a piece of paper on a bulletin board over Jack's Grandad's shoulder. You can just barely see me in this picture. (My profound apologies to Raymond J. Barry for the horrible picture!)

"He's Just An Ass!"

Right before Mary left Hawai'i for good, a big group of us took her to dinner. I asked her all about her latest stint on LOST. As I mentioned before, she was a female pilot in the background of "316," which she said was a HUGE shoot. She also said that Jorge Garcia and Naveen Andrews were pretty funny. Naveen joked about being "naughty" when he walked back and forth in handcuffs, and Jorge Garcia noted that Mary was the first female pilot he'd ever seen on LOST. He said, "Well, you're definitely gonna be sucked into a vortex and disappear!"

Mary actually worked that scene twice. She was one of a handful of extras called back for reshoots (where they fix something small that didn't work the first time). The second time around, she was also on set when "Jack" saves "Sayid" after he gets darted (Mary was a nurse). I said that sounded pretty cool to me.

Then she looked me dead-on, COMPLETELY annoyed, and said, "Matthew Fox is an ass."

This totally cracked me up, partly because I've never seen Mary so offended (interesting note: Offended Mary is really fun when you get a few drinks in her)!

Apparently, MF got all irritated when Mary's group of extras were in his line of sight during the "Save Sayid" scene. He tried to shoo them away without looking or speaking to them. After he started to get annoyed (that they didn't understand basic Hollywood sign language for "move outta my line of sight"), a P.A. interceded and told them to move so he couldn't see them. THEN later, when they were all eating together (the handful of them), MF deliberately and succinctly passed the group by (without a nod, a word or anything "resembling a human being").

I argued with Offended Mary (because it's totally fun), but I didn't get very far. Matthew Fox is "an ass, an ass, an ass," and that's all Mary had to say about that!

"The Matthew Fox"

But I don't buy it. I mean, maybe MF is a total dick -- I dunno.* I have no clue what he's "really" like. However, I think I can make a solid case that he's not trying to be an asshole on set.

I've been able to observe him on set both in and out of "The Pocket." When he's in "The Pocket," there is a definable zone around him (and other stars, too, let's be clear on that) created by the production that keeps extras away. When he's waiting for his turn, it's in a quiet place removed from everyone else, and when he's on set, there are people around him that discourage zone violation (like a passive buffer), OR his location discourages interaction outside of the production staff (like at a podium, for instance).

However, when he's OUT of "The Pocket," he's on his own, and, from what I can tell, he somehow creates his own zone (and it WORKS).

(Remember - he's not the only one who does this. E. Lilly is pretty good at this, too, from what I've observed. However, I think her dismal performance in nearly every written interview probably helps.)**

Have you ever been in a room, like an office, and happily chatting with a few other people while someone's on the phone when all of a sudden the room goes completely quiet because that phone conversation suddenly turned serious? Ask yourself, how did you know you shouldn't chat anymore? You can't hear the conversation. All you can do is "feel" like it's time to shut up because something big is happening and you shouldn't disturb the guy on the phone in any way.

Same thing when you're on an airplane. Ever get settled next to someone and KNOW that they are NOT interested in talking to you? They aren't rude to you or anything, but you can "feel" it, right? They've shut down every possible avenue of interaction, but they do it non-verbally.

From what I can tell, when he's out of "The Pocket," Matthew Fox is VERY adept at turning on the "don't talk or look at me" vibe (like on the airplane). I've even heard him mention this in an interview, I think at last year's Comi-con. He said something to the effect that he "walks around expecting not to be approached" and that's why he's able to walk the floor like the rest of us without being mobbed by fans.

He's even able to vary the level of this vibe to the point where it can actually make you feel like you're intruding just by mentally noting his existence. I kid you not, if you are sensitive or unfamiliar with this vibe, it feels like emotional radiation. (Janet said she was crawling right out of her skin from being next to him so long.)

And I understand it, in my own very-VERY-removed-from-the-weird-world-that-is-celebrity way, because a celebrity's existence is "customer service." No matter what anyone does to them or around them, they HAVE to keep their game faces on. What better way to keep your game face on than to prevent interaction entirely?

(Although, some might call this LAZY...)

The XY Factor

I had a great time on set, again, even though MF was RIGHT THERE and doing "The Matthew Fox" with gusto. I just pretended that he didn't exist, period! I didn't even have to use Jennifer's Theory of Celebrities to do it. I did it out of sheer politeness!

The simple truth is that I feel sorry for celebrities. Kinda like you feel sorry for elephants in the zoo. Elephants are very cool to observe close up, but if you think about it, watching them penned up can be really sad. It's even sadder when you realize that zoo elephants have never lived in the wild. They have no idea what they're missing! They happily eat their peanuts, and as long as they don't step on anyone, they'll be carefully cared for (and closely observed) all their lives (or until they overdose on prescription painkillers).

Sad, right?

At the tail end of shooting, MF was back in "The Pocket," protected by the stone wall, a piano and some crew members. When that happened, I saw him laugh and participate in a belching contest with Uber P.A. and the camera guys.

And I smiled because, in the end, even celebrities can't deny one universal truth that applies to all humanity: a man is just a man, and deep down inside, all men are immature idiots!

* This one's for you, "Thanks For Sharing!"

** Jesus CHRIST will somebody PLEASE buy that girl a publicist!

The End

Next up: TheFuselage.com: How To Be Banned Without Even Trying

The Jacket OR Why VERONICA Hamel is a Goddess

2009-07-29T14:25:00.009-10:00

A Word on Names

I have a confession to make. Except for Mary, Dawn, Shawn, Tiffany and the actors on set, I've made up all the rest of the names on my posts. I should say it's to protect people's privacy, but the truth is I simply can't remember them. Instead of keeping them anonymous, I've chosen names I think represent them accurately or ones that MIGHT be their names.

However, I can't for the life of me remember the name of the guy who took this picture of me in The Jacket! I can't even think of a good substitute name! So from now on, this very kind person will be referred to as The Photographer.

Behold The Jacket

Does this jacket scream Beverly Hills Doctor's Wife to you? No?

That's what I said! Actually, I said "EWWWW!" when the 300 pound woman at wardrobe pulled it out. I quickly retracted (because she glared at me, and she was fucking scary) and blamed my outburst on lack of sleep and the early hour. I got the impression that not too many people crossed her on a regular basis and lived to tell about it (I also got the impression that she probably killed and ate extras for sport). I apologized, thanked her profusely and skittered off to the hair line.

While I waited (and scratched Lulu's ears), I wondered why on Earth anyone choosing wardrobe for the day would choose to throw The Jacket into the truck. How did that decision past muster on any standard scale?

And why me? Before I donned The Jacket, I looked kinda like a Beverly Hills Doctor's Wife, or at least a Beverly Hills Doctor's Not So Cheap Girlfriend On The Side. In fact, I thought I looked well enough to pass for Beverly Hills Doctor's Adult Daughter Who Still Uses Daddy's Money To Go Shopping.

However, wardrobe took one look at me and pulled out the one garment (out of hundreds) that made me look 1) older, 2) fatter, 3) shorter, 4) dumpier and 5) like a homeless librarian. All I had to go on to explain this phenomenon were the words of the beautiful (obviously unavailable) man from wardrobe who helped me put it on. He assured me The Jacket was "texture." From his tone I gathered this type of thing was an unfortunate but necessary aspect of filming. He suggested that'd I'd be grateful for The Jacket in the end because, I'd be "easy to spot" when the show aired.

Easy to spot, I thought, Sure. As in: "Awww, look -- she must have been Jack's deranged piano teacher!"

To my dismay, the stylist in the hair trailer took one look at The Jacket and chose to "match" my hair to "complete the look." I didn't bother protesting, but my eyes were wide in the mirror as my semi-punk, asymmetrical bob was shellacked into a little brown football helmet, and the barrette I'd used to hide my unlikely blonde streak was tucked behind my ear, old-lady style.

The Ripple Effect

Don't get me wrong. I didn't care what I was wearing. I'd've worn a chicken suit as long as I could be on set. And I was a potted plant, remember, so it wasn't my problem if I looked bad or weird on camera. Someone else's ass was on the line, not mine.

I just didn't get it. No one else got it either. In fact, The Jacket stirred up some resentment among those extras who were asked by wardrobe to change out of what they were wearing and into what they were given. Each time we were switched around and I was able to chat with a new group of people, the response was the same.

They assumed that I'd brought The Jacket from home (because, obviously something so ridiculous couldn't have come from wardrobe). They were either mildly amused and wondered where I'd dug it up (and why I chose to wear it), OR they were MAD because, and I quote: "Why did they make me change out of my nice outfit into these cheesy clothes but let you get away with wearing that jacket?!"

The Photographer

The mystery of The Jacket is how I met The Photographer (the gentlemen pictured here on the far left).

Near the end of the day, someone from the church opened up access to an internal bathroom. This was wonderful because it gave us access to an adjacent room with chairs, a table and, most importantly, air conditioning! The Photographer was sitting with a few extras when I passed through, and they begged me to tell him the story of The Jacket.

At first, he was unsure why I was "complaining" about it. What difference did it make if I was barely on camera? I told him, look, I'm actually thrilled I got to wear it because it's made the day more fun for me, but I'm still at a loss to explain it. I pointed out the cloth flower pinned to the left shoulder Sex in the City style, circa 1998. I shook my head violently, and not one hair on my head moved. WTF?

After much laughing, he had to concede my point. In his 4 years as an extra, he'd never seen anything like it. The Jacket would remain a mystery.

I bumped into The Photographer again at the very end of the day after we were shipped back to base camp. He graciously took a picture of me while we were in line to finish our paperwork (to get paid). That's when I realized he was a PROFESSIONAL photographer (which is why the picture looks so good). Naturally I brought up my Algae Abstracts and how disappointed I was I couldn't photograph the church windows. He was very kind and told me he'd love to see some of my pictures.

The thought of (a very cute) someone who knew his stuff looking over my pictures and then trying to offer both helpful criticism AND be nice to me caused me to -- you guessed it! -- Dork Out. I launched into this stream-of-consciousness babble about how I was really, most likely, not any good, and I didn't know an f stop from a streetlight, and he'd probably throw up or laugh if he saw any of them. He, again, continued to be very nice and told me to put up a website and "get your pictures out there," and to be sure and let him know when I did because he'd be happy to look at them.

I managed to lose his card within seconds. (Mary is still mad at me about that!)

Oh well.

Why I Love "Jack's Mom"

Shawn (pictured here), Mary and I were among the last few extras on set at the end of the day. We were background for the scene where Jack's mom leaves the church and Claire's mom talks to Jack.

Our part was at the beginning. We were to walk past the church door right before Jack's Mom, "Margo Shepherd," hugs Jack and exits the church. Then we were to wait at the bottom of the stairs with Margo until someone yelled "Back to One" to reset us.

Mary was all excited about this because Margo is played by Veronica Hamel. "You know," she said, "Veronica Hamel! From Hill Street Blues!" I'd heard of the show (but never seen it), and Ms. Hamel looked familiar to me, but I had to look her up on IMdb pro that night to figure out why Mary was so impressed.

Veronica Hamel played public defender Joyce Davenport on Hill Street Blues from 1981-1987, earning five Emmy nominations for the role. She also stirred things up quite a bit by PRE-negotiating her contract, even though she was basically unknown at the time, AND getting exactly what she wanted.

Although HSB is what's she's primarily known for, Ms. Hamel has been in film, television and on stage for decades. However, two weird items are ALWAYS listed under her name:

1. She starred in the last aired TV commercial for cigarettes (Virginia Slims, 1/1/1971).

2. She discovered FBI surveillance equipment hidden all over Marilyn Monroe's house when she and her (then) husband, Michael Irving, bought and renovated it in 1972. (How cool is THAT?!)

Our interaction with Ms. Hamel was minimal because we were outside during her chat with Mr. Fox, and we were supposed to head down the stairs before she exited. Then, we were to wait with her (in COMPLETE SILENCE) at the base of the stairs while Jack and Kate have their big moment with Claire's mom.

This worked out great because Shawn is hearing impaired, and we both can read lips (him better than me). I was able to keep chatting with him when the camera was rolling (this drove Mary crazy!). Shawn is married to an intelligence officer in the Air Force stationed here in Hawai'i. He'd been acting for a while, mainly as an extra or featured extra. Like all military spouses, he'd been making do wherever they were stationed, but he was pretty excited because they'd just found out her next duty station would be in California.

When the director finally called action (after a few rehearsal takes), we three walked down the stairs and waited for our signal to reset. But before we did the second take, Victoria Hamel gently told us that she was supposed to go first. Even though Lewis had told us differently, we did what she said (who wouldn't?).

The director called "Action!" Ms. Hamel said her line, exited the church and walked down the stairs. Mary followed first with me second and Shawn bringing up the rear. We heard an instantaneous, very annoyed "CUT!" then "Dammit!" Then, a P.A. VERY high on the food chain came tearing out of the church with his finger jamming at us shouting, "What are you DOING?!" and calling for Lewis.

I thought, well, at least I won't be the only one screamed at this time. There might be safety in numbers!

However, before he could deliver our verbal lashing, Ms. Hamel darted forward and put herself between Big-Wig P.A. and us! She smiled and said kindly, "Oh no -- that was me. I told them the wrong thing."

Big-Wig P.A. was so geared up to rip us a new one that it took him a moment to shift out of Complete Asshole into the Deferential Respect required to address a television icon. They chatted as Mary and I traded "Holy Shit!" looks, and we set up to run the scene again. Shawn said that watching Big-Wig P.A. sputter like that was way more fun than watching crew members' faces when we mentioned Lewis! I told him I wished I knew how to speak "L.A." because I was pretty sure that we missed some interesting subtext in there somewhere.

The next time we ran the scene, Ms. Hamel chatted with us at the base of the stairs. She apologized to us for the mix up. Mary told her how much we appreciated it, especially since I had already been seriously screamed at earlier in the day. Ms. Hamel patted my arm, tsked tsked in the nicest way and asked me if I'd had a good time the rest of the day on set.

Now, usually, I'm quite savvy at conversations like this (cough). However, I was momentarily stunned because VICTORIA HAMEL IS GORGEOUS! I don't mean pretty. I mean ABSOLUTELY BEAUTIFUL. I don't know what they're doing when they film LOST, but her T.V. image doesn't come CLOSE to doing her justice!

(Sure, girlfriend's had some work done, but it's really GOOD work, see? You couldn't tell she'd had work unless you already knew how long she'd been in the business.)

As I stood next to her, a puff of wind hit us and a few strands of her hair got stuck in her lip gloss. Without thinking (obviously), I used my pinkie finger to carefully pull them off and said, "You are gorgeous, aren't you?"

[Like a BIG, FAT DORK.]

She looked at me, a bit puzzled, until she realized I was sincere (and probably retarded). Then she "aw shucks"-ed the moment. She waved her hand and said, "It's makeup and wardrobe. They always make you look better." Mary chirped up that I didn't appreciate wardrobe much today since they made me wear The Jacket. Ms. Hamel made to protest but then took a good look at it. She touched the sleeve and said, "My. That jacket is. . .interesting."

Then she said, "Well don't worry dear. It's texture."

The End

Next Up: The Magic Show: Season 5.

(Don't worry. This one will only be ONE POST.)

Of Golden Moments

2009-07-01T16:30:00.006-10:00

Welcome to Celebrity 101

I've been asked to briefly clarify a few celebrity-related terms I've thrown around. After much consideration, I figured that the quickest (I'm sure you're thanking God) and easiest way to explain them is to give textbook examples of each one.

1. The Golden Moment

Briefly defined, a golden moment is a chance encounter with a celebrity that is "cool." It's usually positive, makes a good story and often results in a memento of some kind.

Example:

Remember that church youth group ski trip? One of the ladies chaperoning us was a brilliant musician -- classically trained pianist, perfect pitch, 4-octave singing voice -- the works. Her musical talent was developed early in life, and her parents (having big dreams for her future away from nowhere'sville, Mississippi) set her up with a voice coach who matched her with 2 other girls to form a singing group. Once the group had a little practice (in church, of course), the coach decided her girls were ready to hit the road and win some contests.

One such contest was at the Mississippi State Fair, which trolled around the state every fall. After singing (and losing to some guy with an accordion), the four of them walked around the game booths -- Ring Toss the Duck, Pop the Balloons with Darts, Baseball in the Basket -- that sort of thing. As they passed by the Knock the Pyramid of Little Bowling Pins Over Booth, a guy drew his arm back to throw and accidentally smacked our girl in the face! He turned around and apologized profusely. He made sure she was okay and threw balls at pins until he won the biggest prize, a huge stuffed animal, which he then gave to her with MORE apologies.

That guy was Elvis [fucking] Presley.

Unfortunately, this was before Elvis was really HUGE and our girl led too sheltered a life to recognize him. She didn't even keep the stuffed animal [ACK!!], and proceeded to go on with her life not realizing that she'd had the Granddaddy of ALL Golden Moments until she was older. She graduated from high school then quickly married a man who, eventually, preached that Rock 'N' Roll was "devil's music" because it incited youth to lose control, disobey their parents and have lots of sex. (Ironic, right?)

2. The Reverse Golden Moment

This is a little trickier to explain. The reverse golden moment is an encounter with a celebrity where you recognize them, they realize that you recognize them, and then you let them go (outta the goodness of your heart).

Example:

When I was in college (oh so many years ago), R.E.M. was BIG. I mean, mainstream, all-over-MTV big. They were on tour and (for some strange reason) did a gig in our crummy little town.

Later that weekend, my pal Christine was at a very crowded bar, inching her way past the barstools to the bathroom. She said it was shoulder-to-shoulder, one of those "this place is TOO fucking CROWDED!" nights. Anyway, she hit a slow spot and stood waiting for the mob to shift, so she could get by. She was belly to belly with a (shorter than her) guy. She prepared to say something funny and appropriate for the moment because she's "from the South, and that's just good manners."

When she looked down, she found herself locked eye-to-eye with Micheal Stipe [lead singer of R.E.M.], who saw that she recognized him. After a momentary rush of excitement, Christine noticed that he looked ABSOLUTELY terrified, worse than deer-in-headlights, scared SHIT-less. She quickly put together that his being recognized in that bar with all those people would spark a near riot.

(One wonders why he was there at all. Hm.)

So she did the "only humane thing." She looked away and moved off like nothing ever happened.

How much you wanna bet he told that story to "the guys" on the tour bus?

(Me too!)

If you have a Golden Moment or even a Reverse Golden Moment, feel free to share in the comments section. They are more common than you think!

I'm sorry, but is there a celebrity out there sexier than Elvis in his prime?

I don't think so.

(Sorry Matt.)

Don't Be the Pogue: Part 2

2009-06-12T14:30:00.061-10:00

Just When You Think It's Safe. . .

Don't Miss Your Shot

I don't really have a Career career. Instead, through the years I've had 100 (or so) hobbies (I like to call them "projects"). Sometimes I use a hobby to make a little money, and sometimes the hobby uses me. Rarely, a hobby takes over my life and requires a Hobby Intervention, with Hobby Rehab and/or a Hobby Exorcism as appropriate to set me free.

Free to pursue the NEXT hobby, that is.

One hobby that's stuck with me since childhood is photography. I'm not talking snapshots of emotional reactions to various life events, either. Almost as soon as I could point and click, I've been waving for people to scoot, duck, turn or leave the frame. I became a lifer after receiving my first camera for Christmas (one of those disk cameras -- remember them?), and from that moment on I was willing to stand in traffic or climb the nearest tree (or car or buddy) -- anything to get The Shot.

And I'm not too bad at it. In fact, photography has saved my ass every Christmas for the past two years because despite the fact that O'ahu is Hawai'i's haven for litterbugs, it's still pretty easy to snap a beautiful picture of something natural, rub out the tourists with Photoshop, sign it, frame it and send it to your mom (and it's WAY cheaper than that new coffee maker she wanted).

Yep. Everybody loves a pretty picture of "paradise." However, during the time frame of Christian's funeral, I was getting bored with landscapes and was digging into what I call "Algae Abstracts." Basically, I take extreme closeups of interesting things because I like how the final image morphs into an abstract composition. They aren't crowd pleasers per se, but the ones I take can only be taken in Hawai'i and I won't live here forever. Therefore, I take my camera everywhere just in case because there's nothing more aggravating to folks like me than seeing The Shot and not having a camera handy.

I'm sure you already see where this is going. . .

Dorking Out: The Aftermath

The great thing about making a complete ass out of yourself in front of someone you don't know is that the stakes disappear. You've got nothing to lose, and that someone can exercise his/her right to not know you and choose to avoid you without breaking any house rules. Everyone's free to move about the cabin, and you can tuck the incident into mental storage for later examination (with your therapist or "gay boyfriend" equivalent) and move on with your life.

Moving on with my life meant waiting to be transported with all the other extras to the lunch tent, which was several blocks away. The vans shifted us 10 at a time, but there were a LOT of us, and it took nearly an hour. Luckily for us, Lewis fixed it so we could wait inside the church instead of outside in the now blistering heat. It was still warm inside, but we were able to strip off a few layers and leave the fans on. I was greatly relieved to take off The Jacket, and had some very funny moments when people around me noticed what I looked like without it (See The Jacket post for more info).

Mary, Dawn and I reconnected in a pew near the back of the church to discuss the particulars of the shoot and dish on our theories of LOST. Dawn laughed heartily at my Dork Moment, but not in a mean way. She told me, regardless of how pathetic I felt, the chances that Matthew Fox even noticed me were about zero. She said "those guys" are so used to being bombarded by desperate non-verbal communication on set, they're pretty much numb to it. Truth be told, she did make me feel relieved and less idiotic, and we pondered the bizarre nature of celebrity in general.

The "Other" Incident

With my glasses back on, I was finally able to examine the windows of the church more closely. They were really beautiful, and I got itchy to see the windows up front, which couldn't be seen without walking right up to them. Once the crew had removed the lighting and camera set up, extras were allowed to walk through as a shortcut to the outside bathrooms. We didn't know if we'd be back after lunch or done for the day, so I told Mary I was headed up front for a looksee. She said, "Carpe Diem," and then, almost too quietly, "Watch yer back." I looked over my shoulder at her thinking, good grief -- watch my back for what?

I wasn't confused for long. She said, "Watch yer back," but what she MEANT was, "Matthew Fox is in the aisle seat six rows ahead of us, arm dangling, chatting with Stephen Williams, and when you're up front he can see you so don't do anything you'll regret like tug up your pantyhose through your dress I-Love-Lucy style because I'm pretty sure you won't recover this time without medication."

See, I told you. Mary is a GEM.

The Interesting Fish

Properly warned, I went about my business. The windows were beautiful, and they were lit up like gangbusters in the late morning sun, and the longer I checked them out, the more irritated I became.

I have a (very cool) small, digital camera for occasions like this. It fits in my purse, takes excellent pics AND video, and guess what folks: I HAD IT WITH ME. That's right! Even though cameras were SPECIFICALLY banned on set, and even though I had signed a legally binding document agreeing to abide by this rule (among others) and acknowledging that I ran the risk of being sued for 5 million (yes, I said MILLION) dollars, I had that camera tucked in my purse anyway. And I wasn't too worried about it because I hate spoilers and would never create any (and this is Hawai'i where bending the rules is a way of life).

Not only was I prepared with a camera, I had access to a huge ladder (from crew setup) AND crew members to hold that ladder to keep me from falling to my death while snapping the closeups I wanted. AND I had Mary with me to do "The Mary" and make it happen with little fuss and many smiles.

Despite all this, I knew it was hopeless. I knew that if it was just "us," I'd have had my pictures, no problem. But with Matthew Fox and Stephen Williams RIGHT THERE, any discussion of an attempt to take the pictures would stir things up as the request traveled all the way up the P.A. chain until it reached Stephen Williams ("Some girl wants to take pictures of the windows. Yeah, that little one over there with the blue dress."), who would surely discuss it with the Big Actor sitting next to him before sending his answer back down through the chain to me: request denied, moron.

All in all, better to just let this one slide.

As I'm striding up the aisle to rejoin Mary and Dawn, I'm barefoot in pantyhose, sleek in my blue dress, still sporting hair done to match The Jacket, shaking my head in disgust and thinking God bleep mother bleeping piece of BLEEP I wanted that shot! Then, outta the corner of my eye, I noticed something strange.

Matthew Fox was totally watching me.

Have you ever been in a doctor's waiting room with a nothing but bad magazines and a big fish tank? Ever notice how something about the bubble/water noise of the tank keeps distracting you, drawing your attention even if you brought something interesting to read? Remember how you blank-stare the fish, watching them swim with no purpose until you notice that one fish seems to have some kind of agenda, and you sit there, passively observing this fish randomly zoom around the tank or pick on another fish or try to work a fish flake out from under a rock, or something like that, until the nurse calls your name, and, as you follow her, you auto-flush "your" fish's adventures out of your mind and never think of it again?

Well, that's EXACTLY how Matthew Fox was watching me.

Jennifer's Theory of Celebrities

My pal Jennifer's hobby is acting. She's taken classes, been on auditions, been an extra several times and played leads in a few student films. However, just recently she learned she was cast as a "featured extra" (where you have lines, but you still get the shit pay). She'd be a waitress in a diner. Her "customers?" Amber Tamblyn and Orlando Bloom (Main Street). I chewed my nails for her that first day of filming because Orlando Bloom really melts her butter, and I didn't see how she'd make it two days in a confined space with him without having an official Dork Panic Attack.

But that night she reported that filming was great, she chatted with both actors just fine and Orlando Bloom accidentally touched her boob, which made her feel 10 years younger. I was amazed, but she told me she'd used a trick she learned on set at a Rick Schroeder film.*

"You see," she said, "Celebrities are so used to being gawked at, scrutinized, badgered and entrapped they develop this auto-defense thing." I asked what she meant by entrapped, and she said, "It's like when you're on the bus and you strike up a conversation with someone who seems pretty cool and you're feeling pretty good about it and then they sneaky turn the conversation and try to lead you to Jesus or sell you some vitamins or something. You feel duped because you fell for their spiel, which was totally false, and now you're forced to be a jerk and cut them off or play neutral/interested until you can get away. Basically, you were a mark, and it makes you feel really stupid and hate humans in general."

"Well, celebrities are conditioned/prepared to think like marks all the time because when you're famous, for whatever reason, everyone wants something from you. They keep their game faces on, too, because if they let anything or anyone get a reaction out of them, it's bad PR. Basically they get used to thinking of anyone they don't know as a fan, someone looking for a Golden Moment with them, some random interaction that makes the fan feel special, gives them a story to tell, you know? And the worst kind of fans are the ones that spend a lot of energy trying to sell themselves as "not like all those other fans," which is just like saying 'I'd like fries with my Golden Moment, please.'"

(I love talking to Jen.)

"So they do this thing -- it's like -- active ignoring where they non-verbally
1) acknowledge your presence,
2) thank you for the attention,
3) ask you to leave them alone and
4) apologize for asking you to leave them alone --"

"-- all without ever looking at you or stopping what they're doing. It's actually a pretty amazing skill. The problem is that celebrities don't realize that their auto-defense mechanism is really unnerving when you're not a fan because being actively ignored feels like taking a lie detector test in front of your boss and makes you go twitchy and laugh too loud."

And could make you go Dork, I say. She says, "Right. So if you want them to relax or even if you think you might like to chat, you have to genuinely ignore them, like in an almost snooty way. Go Parisian on them if you have to. Get it? And you have to be true to it. If they never talk to you, or even if they're rude, just keep on not giving a shit and focus on someone else, which isn't really hard on a movie set."

Jen went on to say that this trick works on anyone famous. It's like something shiny to a magpie.

"They can't resist it because it's so weird to them," she said, and, she'd been told, "Their curiosity tends to make them relax. Also, if you totally keep your cool, keep up the genuine ignoring and NEVER act like fan, it's like a Reverse Golden Moment for them, and they won't mind having you around" (if this is your career, this is important).

Jen admitted she was a little shaky that first morning, but she prepped herself with an anti-Orlando mantra on which to base her ignoring.

Anti-Orlando Mantra
1. Orlando Bloom is not worth my time.

2. Orlando Bloom hasn't made a good movie in YEARS.

3. Orlando Bloom only fucks way-too-skinny, 20-something, blondes.

4. Number 3 is offensive, cliche, sad and demeans thousands of women worth having.

5. Number 3 also means I could probably teach him a thing or two in bed.

6. Chances are I'm way smarter than him in general.

7. Come to think of it, Orlando Bloom is shit on my shoe, and HE'D be fucking lucky to talk to ME!

None of these things are actually true -- well, some of them are true -- but the point is that Jen copped an attitude where she gave off a certain vibe, almost like disdain. She was never rude, mind you, but everything about her demeanor said "You are a potted plant" to Orlando Bloom.

And he opened like a flower.

It wasn't easy for her to maintain, however, and by the middle of the second day she sent me a text message which said:

"Can't believe attracted to man prettier than me in makeup. Still, proud of self for only dorking out on inside (must be acting classes). Need drink. Love, Jen."

In The End

Jen's story ran through my mind, but I couldn't bring myself to believe that Dawn was wrong. There was no way he'd noticed me enough during filming to recognize me without The Jacket anyway. Plus, truthfully, I wanted to believe I'd gotten away with going so very Dork without anyone but Mary noticing.

Then I wondered, am I just delusional? Maybe I'm making this all up because I don't LIKE feeling like an ass, and discovering him watching me without pointing and laughing would take the sting out.

I wanted to be the fish.

I knew in my head that the best thing was not to look, but I was getting that prickly feeling you get when someone's staring at you. The urge to look when you have that feeling is instinctual. After all, in the wild, quickly assessing what's staring at you might give you a head start on whatever's about to eat you. As I got closer, it got harder and harder not to look.

So I gave in, but not until the very last second before I passed out of eyesight. He saw it coming, though, and quickly looked just past my head, shifting expressions from "watching the fish" to a glassy "staring at nothing in particular." And even though I knew my window watching could qualify me for Fan Attempt to Get Celebrity's Attention #24: Look Really Interested In Something Within Celebritiy's Eyesight, I felt better. I'd be auto-flushed, and that was a-okay with me.

And the NEXT time I was an extra and he was on set, I knew exactly what to do. . .

*By the way, Jen says that Rick Schroeder is totally hot in person and was very nice when she wouldn't let him cut in front of her in the chow line.

Next up: The Jacket OR Why Victoria Hamel is a Goddess

Matthew Fox Works His Ass Off OR How To Be An Extra On LOST

2009-04-23T04:16:00.003-10:00

I’ve never met Matthew Fox. I don’t KNOW him in any way, and I’ve never seen him except on the LOST set, so my OPINION is just an OPINION. AND, since I’ve worked as an extra on LOST and seen how things work on set, I can see how, to an extra, MF (or any of the cast, and hell, at least one P.A. I can think of) might seem like a crabby diva.

HOWEVER:

I’m not buying it. (Things are not always what they seem, right?)

Here’s what you need to know about being an extra on LOST:

1. Extras are potted plants.

Extras are taken care of and fed and carted around and paid (a bit), but they are only there to make the scene look more real. The trick to being a “good” extra is to make sure you know your P.A.’s name, stay where your P.A. puts you, and don’t bug or bother anyone because everyone on set is WORKING, and working HARD.

2. Extras rarely mix with the principle cast.

If you think being an extra means you’ll be able to be friends with Evi or Josh, you’ll be disappointed. Extras have plenty of time to sit around and talk to each other (which is the VERY BEST part of the job, really) and get to watch the process of how the show is filmed (which is very cool too), but unless actual filming is taking place, the principle cast is not around. And you can’t pop on over and tell Naveen how hot he is when he’s filming a scene. AND you’d feel like a dork trying because NO ONE who knows what they are doing does that.

3. Extras aren’t usually around when serious things happen, and if they are, they are legally bound by contract not to disclose anything about what they’ve seen.

So if you ever read anything like, “my friend was an extra and said such and such,” mostly likely, it’s BS OR the “friend” is in some serious legal trouble.

4. All the extras know: don’t bother the cast and crew – ever. It’s just not cool. I was told it’s a professional thing. You aren’t there to be a fan. You are there to do a job.

I was never told not to make eye contact or anything like that, but I WAS told, by Dustin Watchman (a stand-in for MF when I worked Christian’s funeral), that the principle cast members are friendly enough when there aren’t very many extras around or when the extras are “regulars,” like he was on the beach the first season (before his character was killed off), but when there are TONS of extras, the stars actually CAN’T chat up the extras because then EVERYONE would want a “turn” and it would slow things down to a crawl.

Here's what I’VE noticed about being a star on LOST (MY OPINION FROM OBSERVATION):

1. The stars work their asses off.

We’re talking 16-18 hour days, 5-6 days a week for weeks on end. After the writers’ strike last year, all the regulars on set were completely fried from working so much.

2. The work is tedious and repetitive.

Filming takes place as quickly as possible and the stakes are pretty high not to suck, but it takes a LONG time to film ONE short scene. Christian’s funeral in the Season 4 finale was, what, 2 minutes? Filming that scene was an 18 hour work day.

3. The stars are under a microscope when they aren’t working.

In my OPINION, living in Hawai’i must be the hardest thing about being a star on LOST. It’s small, and there’s nowhere to hide but in your house. The stars are unofficial tourist attractions here, so they can’t really go out and be normal anywhere but in a very small bubble of people and places they already know.

AND they can’t be anything but calm, friendly and perfect or it ends up in the news. God forbid any of the stars complain about living here. That’s called “talking stink” and it’s not cool. Don’t get me wrong--Hawai’i’s great, the weather’s beautiful, blah, blah, blah, but Hawai’i must be a lot less fun if you can’t even jog in your neighborhood without people popping pictures of you with their cell phones and posting them on the Internet.

So, what's up with the Diva tag?

As far as Matthew Fox goes, I can only tell you what I’ve seen on set (and read in interviews with him). IN MY OPINION, the guy is hyper-focused when he’s working. I THINK it’s to block out the “static” (aka distractions) and be good at his job (which he actually is, if you’ve noticed).

I’ve only been around him when there are tons of extras, and he seems uncomfortable and intent on maintaining his distance from us in general, but I never saw him be openly rude or “diva” out in anyway. The rest of the Oceanic Six were at Christian’s funeral, and I didn’t see anything strained or weird about the way they interacted with him (and they all kept away from the extras that day). Near the end of shooting a scene recently, I saw him start to relax and joke around with the camera guys.

When I think about it, it makes sense to me in a way. Maybe I’m crazy, but if I worked at a job that required an enormous amount of mental energy, the last thing I’d want is to add “customer service” energy expenditure for 100 people I didn’t know, especially while I was in the middle of working. AND if any of those 100 people bugged me, and I couldn’t tell them to FUCK OFF, I’d probably loose my mind completely.

So, sure—Matthew Fox might seem like a diva on set. Hawai'i is basically a friendly place (nearly all of the extras live locally). The other cast members don't seem nearly as unhappy and uncomfortable on set that I could see.

I mean, Evi smiled at me in passing when we nearly smacked into each other entering/exiting the bathrooms, and Naveen gave my pal a wink and sympathized with us at the funeral because we were BAKING in the heat, and when my pal worked a scene week before last, Jorge chatted with her because they were stuck waiting in the same space for 5 hours, so it seems logical that Matthew could smile and nod a bit more to the extras around him.

HOWEVER, as far as I know, Evi, Naveen and Jorge don’t have to hyper-focus to block out distractions or a family with small kids to deal with on their off time OR a movie career to work on (including publicity tours that demand polite small talk with hundreds of people all over the world).

The guy’s exhausted! Cut him some slack!

Simply put, there's nothing in his job description that says, "Must be charming to all people at all times." It's not really fair to jump to judgment so quickly.

FINAL OPINION:

You couldn't pay me enough to be a star on LOST. Seriously. I had a terrific time on set because I spent about 9 hours talking to over 100 very cool, very diverse people from all over the island who were just jazzed to be there (many of them had NEVER seen the show, by the way). The stars of LOST are UNABLE to talk to anyone they want to and can't just be themselves at any given time that I can tell.

That must totally suck.

Read more about being an extra on set at : The Extra Experience - 4:45 a.m.

How To Make Pals in 10 Hours or Less

2009-04-23T04:02:00.014-10:00

Originally Posted 5/2008

Let it never be said that acting isn’t working.

You're laughing. Okay, if I had to sit around for 8 - 10 hours at a time (and get paid an OBSCENE amount of money to do it), I’d probably laugh at that statement, too. However, I wasn’t pretending to be someone else 36 seconds at at time for the better part of 18 hours, and no one gives a crap if I look bloated after lunch. Consider all the high stakes and "celebrity" factors involved in the job (when was the last time your bad day at work or good day at the gym was national news?), and you’ll see that being an actor is actually hard work.

But not for the extra! Never mind that I made exactly $156 for 17 hours of my time, or that it didn’t cover the dress I bought that no one even saw. Ignore the verbally abusive P.A. from hell/incident. Overlook the sunburn, waiting and, of course, The Jacket, and you'll see,

Being an extra is JUST PLAIN FUN.

The very best part of the entire experience for me was chatting with so many cool people all day long. Christine said I hit it on a good day, which was lucky since it was such a long one. If there are only 4 or 5 extras, you might be stuck with someone who’s no fun to talk to, like the SAG guy**, but if there are a ton of extras, over 100 to be exact, you can always move around, and you’re sure to find someone interesting.

While Mary and Dawn were stuck outside for more shots -- since they were standing behind Sayid, Kate, Hurley and Nadia chatting on the church steps -- (All for nought, I’m afraid. That entire scene didn’t make the finale at all!), I had a chance to sit inside and chit chat.

The Gang's All Here

I was very interested to learn that many of the extras that day had been doing this for years. Christian's funeral was like a mini-reunion for them!

Linda, for example, had been an extra since the pilot (something that was "not a big deal" to her at all). Her real job was as a legal assistant-type person for a refinery. A LIQUOR refinery. I asked her just exactly what that meant, and she said that she basically kept all of the licenses in order both for the refinery and for the businesses that picked up their liquor there.

If you live here in Hawai’i, Linda’s job is really funny since no one would ever try very hard to follow those rules if it meant putting someone (like a small bar owner) out, and there isn’t any oversight of any kind to make sure those rules are being followed.

When I mentioned this, she said, well, I don’t spend a lot of time shredding things, if that’s what you mean.

(?)

What she does spend time on is her writing, and after publishing a few short stories online, she is shopping her first novel, a “murder mystery about a crack investigative reporter and a private detective who try to solve a murder while bickering and having sex as often as possible.” I asked her if it was set in Hawai’i, and she said that she had to set it in California because there aren’t any private beaches in Hawai’i. Everyone outside of Hawai’i would think it was weird if her heroes never had sex on a beautiful beach, and no one living in Hawai’i would be able to read about it without wondering when the homeless or tourists will interrupt the happy couple.

(Yeah -- I really liked talking to Linda!)

I also learned that Linda had never even watched the show. In fact, after years of being an extra at least 5 or 6 times a season, she really couldn’t tell me the first thing about it. Linda was part of a large camp of extras who were like that. They either had been or were still actors and were filling their resumes, or they had been turned on to the job through a friend or neighbor and just kept coming back every time they were called. They were almost proud that they didn’t watch the show.

Weird, right?

Dawn, the gorgeous, African-American model from Texas, said that she always gets called. I said it was because she was beautiful and could look like she’s 20 or 12, but she said it was because there were so few Black people on the island and even fewer that could drop everything for an entire day to be on the show. She said, “I’m sorry, but you can’t ‘be’ in New York without Black people there.”

The basic truth is: if you are trying to recreate a grocery store in Iowa or a posh funeral in Beverly Hills, the primary ethnic groups in Hawai’i, namely Asian and Pacific Islander, are not going to always look believable in the background. Dawn said the main reason Mary and I got the job was because they were short on enough white people to pull off the funeral!

Dawn was, fortunately, also a fan of the show, and when we finished shooting "Jack's" eulogy, we three had a nice discussion about our theories of LOST. (Then, since she manages properties in Texas as well as Hawai'i, she gave me some really good tips about where to buy a home.)

The Others

The most fun people to talk to were the extras who had been extras on the beach with the crash survivors. Talk about important pond scum---about 15 of them had to actually sign contracts saying that they would be extras for good, and if they had to leave, they were replaced by extras who looked as much like them as possible.

Dawn said that the latest events on the show really have the original guys in a bind. Once you’ve been very noticeable (like the guy Sun notices in the hallway when she is having the baby), your file gets marked, and they won’t use you for a while. Since almost everyone at the beach was killed off, now those extras can’t be used for very much anymore except “fillers” like us at the funeral.

One such extra was a guy named Dustin Watchman, a real cutie (and total FLAKE), who worked as a stand-in for Matthew Fox the day we were there. He was of special interest to Mary, partially because he is very cute (much more so in person) and partially because once he was stuck waiting outside with the extras near the end of the day, he was quite chatty about being on the set in the past. Mary never did give him her number (in her opinion, he should ask for it!), but we learned that he got the job as a stand-in because he was one of the original extras on the beach who was deliberately killed off as part of the plot. Since it was a pretty friendly group of actors who had NO idea how big the show was going to be when they started, they felt bad about kicking him off entirely.

(Stand-ins do just that. They Stand In for the “real” actors when the camera and lighting and sound guys are setting up. That way, the actors can just pop in after everything is set up and only Act, rather than standing around.)

He also explained a bit of the “anti-pond scum” persona of the “stars.” He said that if there are only a few extras, the principle actors can be friendly and joke around. However, if they start doing that with 100 extras, now everyone wants their turn to have a friendly chat, and it slows everything down. Because of the writers’ strike, they were playing catch-up with the show. Our 17 hour day was just one of the 16-18 hour days they were shooting, 6 days a week for over 5 weeks to get everything finished on time. Time to be nice to the pond scum was just another casualty of the strike.

We could tell that the big actors felt weird about it, too. Hawai’i is a small place, and one does not walk near another without some kind of acknowledgment. We had to share bathrooms for a while with the big guns, and if you were right up on them, you just had to smile. I mean, technically, Christine said, we were supposed to never look or talk to them. We were supposed to just pretend they didn’t exist, and they were supposed to do the same. However, that didn’t always follow, and when we were roasting in the church during Jack’s eulogy, Naveen Andrews stood up, turned around panted at us, flapping his jacket, and even winked at Mary! (Cheeky!)

I got caught up in this particular game with Matthew Fox.

Don't Ask, Don't Tell

Before I tell you that story, I have to tell you this. After I worked on this set, I saw some moron post a “spoiler” about what happened at the funeral based on what his friend “who was working as an extra” found out during the shoot.

Personally, I HATE spoilers. I do NOT want to know anything beforehand. I’m lucky that way because despite a rabid interest in the show, the fans themselves have their own (kinda scary) policing method of dealing with people who find things out early and then blow it for the rest of us.

I can’t tell you much about psycho fans, but I can tell you this. If anyone says they learned something about the plot from someone working as an extra, tell them you know better. I was on that set for a LOOONG time, and all I learned is that:

Sayid is shorter than you’d think, Hurley looks exactly the same as he does on the show, and Evangeline Lilly is, perhaps, the smallest person I’ve ever laid eyes on.

I mean, she’s like a popsicle stick. When she turns to the side, you can’t see anything but her hair. (But she’s not small in an I-starve-myself-to-be-small way which is deceptively refreshing -- )

Finally, and most importantly for my story, I learned that Matthew Fox is. . .

Next Up: Don't Be the Pogue

(Heh, heh.)

4:45 A.M.

2009-04-23T03:54:00.019-10:00

Originally Posted: 5/18/2008

So I was an extra on LOST.*

Mary, Mary (where-ya goin' to?)

Remember Tina's and my adventures at the LOST symphony? Tina's friend Mary quit her job in D.C. and moved to Hawai’i to start a new life. Mary and I bonded during one of her scouting trips when I took visiting LOST sets around O'ahu, and we quickly became good pals when she arrived in December.

What makes Mary so awesome is her ability to strike up a conversation with anyone on the street. She's so good at it, either they end up being friends for life OR she ends up walking away with something really cool - a t-shirt, a party invite, you name it. She's also always looking for something new to try (because that's how you meet new people), so when I saw the ad in Craig’s list calling for extras to work on LOST, she was the first person I forwarded it to.

The application was simple: send in two snapshots (close-up and full length) and fill out a form jammed with check boxes (race being top of the list) and fill-in-the-blanks (weight, height, skills). But my life is Not Simple, and although I swore to Mary I'd apply and I was DYING to be on set, I couldn't work the logistics of simultaneously looking nice AND having someone to take my picture.

I know. Pathetic.

And I continued to be pathetic when, a few weeks later, Mary rang to let me know she had gotten “the call.” They were filming a “big scene” and needed about 100 extras. She said I shouldn't be too hard on myself. There were still two seasons to go, and they'll always need new extras. Besides, it'd be an 12 + hour work day, and probably wouldn't be fun at all. She felt so bad about me missing it, she actually offered to slap me senseless (but only if it would make me feel better).

THEN she said:

“Well, the girl said they were short and did I know anyone else who might be interested -- do you think that might be something you’d like to do, Amy? You know, just to help them out?”

I love Mary when she's evil!

An hour later, I was contacted by Sally, a very stressed, very friendly rep from the studio. She congratulated me for "making it in," and said I'd be background for a funeral scene set in L.A. (Christian's funeral, she whispered). I’d need to show up in appropriate hair, makeup (neutral palette, please) and funeral attire (including pantyhose) for a Beverly Hills doctor’s wife, and did I think that would be something I could do okay? Blinded by my extreme state of "okay," I found myself chatting away about the ironic “fact” that I lived in Hawai’i but had a vast assortment of somber, sedate, expensive looking funeral attire hanging in my closet at that very moment!

I had to ask: pantyhose? Beverly Hills doctors’ wives do not wear pantyhose. Of this I'm sure. Sally sympathized (This is Hawai’i. It is still hot here in March.) but said that pantyhose always looks better on screen, so it wasn’t optional. Finally, she gave me the phone number to call after 8 p.m. (to check my call time just like an aircraft carrier!) and told me to have fun with it!

Thrilled, but panicked I couldn't look the part (I'd be shot, tagged and released if found wandering in Beverly Hills), I dyed my hair and assessed my wardrobe. I did have one very nice black dress, but it didn’t fit anymore (too big - Rockin!). I didn’t want to look any dumpier than the way God made me, so I hit the outlet mall and picked up a simple, sleeveless, navy dress with no shine and minimal texture.

I tried everything on the night before. With the dress, shoes, pantyhose and bag to match, I looked like I was headed to church (and not for the barbecue picnic, either). I packed my bag (sunscreen, snacks and a book to read) and called the magic number. Call time for "Doctor's Wives" was 4:45 A.M. I called Mary, and we talked transport. It's only 16 miles from my house to the studio, but we’d have to drive through all of Honolulu to get there (nightmare probability - 85%). We figured we’d stick with the standard and give ourselves an hour.

[Yes. An HOUR to go 16 miles. This is normal in Hawai’i.]

4:45 A.M.: The Butt Crack of Dawn

We arrived in darkness with plenty of time to join all the other “Extras: Doctors’ Wives A-M” in the line up. In order to get everything done on time, all of the girls had to arrive early for an anti-tacky screening and wardrobe adjustments. Mary and I passed makeup fine, and Mary sailed through wardrobe, no problem. However, when I stepped up to the trailer, the beautiful (and obviously unavailable) man and the 300 pound woman working wardrobe took one look at me and immediately pulled out The Jacket.

Puzzled by the irony of The Jacket, I join the line for hair work. A group of unreasonably tall extras giggled in front of me as they inspected each others' wardrobe additions: semi-stylish hats, questionably-sized costume jewelry, and bejeweled handbags. The two women pulling up behind me, however, were quite irritated that they'd "bothered getting dressed up nice." Apparently, wardrobe made them change out of their own clothes and into what they were now wearing. (I got the impression the transaction was not very apologetic.)

The stylist fixed my hair to match The Jacket, and I joined the growing group of extras who were “done.” At the same time, Mary came out of a different trailer, looking quite fabulous with her stylish suit and freshly coiffed hair. She did a double take at The Jacket and matching hair and quickly told me that E. Lily ("Kate") was getting her hair done two chairs down from Mary and that they had traded polite smiles.

I told Mary that the producer’s dog, Lulu, had wandered into the hair line outside the trailer and insisted that I scratch her ears for quite some time before wandering off. Mary said, “Oh, yeah! I’ve seen that dog on the behind the scenes stuff on the DVD from last season! Did you see the producer anywhere?”

"Um. No. Just the dog."

So we used the trailer potties and headed up to breakfast at the tent --

*Season Four: "There's No Place Like Home, Pt. 2"

NEXT UP: It's All Fun and Games Until the Pissy P.A. Yells at You

It's All Fun and Games Until the Pissy P.A. Yells at You

2009-04-23T03:48:00.014-10:00

Originally Posted: 5/8/2008

The Production Assistant

You may not be surprised to learn that the Hollywood professional filmmaking sphere has a social caste system that rivals any in the ancient world. In fact, you might even think that the “major stars” are the VIPs, bursting with clout, whims and dictatorial power over those all around the set. However, from what I observed, the “star” treatment simply meant that certain actors got to sit in the shade or leave the set during “down” periods. And those other guys: directors, assistant directors, producers, executive producers -- all meaningless.

The backbone of the entire hierarchy is actually the production assistant (P.A.).

P.A.’s are worker bees. In fact, the filming process is so flipping complicated, there is a P.A. involved in every aspect of every element of filming. All P.A.’s are hooked up with ear pieces (like the sales folks at Old Navy) so that at any given time any P.A. can be reached immediately and sent to solve a problem or relay the appropriate information. The higher up on the P.A. food chain, the more “big picture” the P.A.’s function.

Tiffany and Lewis: P.A.'s We Adore

Our P.A. for the day was Tiffany. She was in charge of all the extras from the start of the day, and after we were split up (some to the church, like Mary and me, and the rest off to somewhere else), she was in charge of the funeral attendees. Mary and I learned early on from the other extras that we should stick very close to Tiffany and quickly do whatever she said before she finished saying it.

I have to say, Mary and I LOVED Tiffany. Her first speech to us started with the explanation that she was our “Mama Duck” for the day. Mary noted that she didn’t look much like a Mama Duck. In fact, she was a cute, 25 year old with a T-shirt that read, “Everybody loves an Asian girl.” Her earpiece was constantly popping, to which she always answered, “Copy. I’m on it,” followed by what she was going to do next like, “Loading funeral background for deposit,” and, “Background at south entrance for seating arrangement.”

We had other P.A.’s in charge of us at various times during the day. Our other favorite was Lewis. He was the P.A. on site who arranged the “background” by telling us where to stand initially and where to walk and what to do when the assistant director called “action.”

When we needed adjusting -- if, for example, there were too many of us trying to get through a door at once, and it looked too cluttered on camera -- the director would tell the assistant director to tell someone to tell Lewis the problem, and Lewis would fix us. The buffer zone was so effective, Lewis would actually sound like he was asking us a favor to stand or move in a certain way, and we would happily do whatever he asked.

(Production photos: Ryan Ozawa on Flickr.com)

Lewis was actually pretty important in the pecking order. I learned this from a lighting guy who overheard me and an extra named Shawn discussing whether we should move out of the way when some lighting equipment was coming toward us. The lighting guy asked us what we were doing standing where we were. We said, “Lewis put us here,” and that was the end of the discussion! The lighting went around us! We used that phrase several more times during that scene to, as Shawn said, “see their faces when we mention Lewis.”

The Irony of "The Extra"

Let me make this very clear: extras are the lowest form of pond scum on set. We were not abused or mistreated in any way, but it was clear that if we didn’t exist, that would be okay by anyone over Lewis’ level in the hierarchy.

What makes this fact so interesting is that once you are on film, suddenly you are VERY IMPORTANT pond scum. If you go “back to one,” your starting point, and walk behind a scene, and then suddenly you aren’t in your correct spot for the next scene, it screws up the continuity of the scene and could possibly mean wasted time or money -- both serious insults to the film making gods.

Once you are on film, then, it’s a P.A.’s job to MAKE SURE that YOU are where you should be when you should be because production can’t go forward without you in position--an interesting irony of pond scum existence. As pond scum, our job was simple: we stood where we were told and moved exactly as Lewis instructed, and then, when the director called "Cut!" quickly get "back to one" to do it (over and over) again.

The Incident

Our first scene was outside in front of the church. Four main characters interact in front of the church before entering, and the extras walk around, interact and generally make our way through the front doors. The church has a small courtyard with a statue of St. Patrick, three doors for entry with 2 sets of steps leading up to it, and a U-shaped sidewalk around a lawn about 30 feet wide (Beautiful picture by mikenakama).

Mary was paired with a BEAUTIFUL girl named Dawn (a model, actress and real estate property manager originally from Texas) who was given a very posh dress to wear by wardrobe that morning, and they were on the left side of the U, right next to where Hurley and Kate (holding Aaron) get out of the limo to arrive at the funeral.

I was paired with another girl, Christine (who was NOT given a posh dress to wear) on the other side of the U, nearly across from Mary. Once action was called, Christine and I were to follow behind a family of 3 and walk up the stairs and into the church through the leftmost door. Mary and Dawn, meanwhile, were to meet up with 2 other people, greet and chat with them, and stay put until the main characters start to enter the church.

All told, there were probably about 30 people in our little scene with another 40 or so jetting around on the other side of the action where the food and drink mini-tents were set up next to the “star” tents. And those stars, God bless 'em, really needed those tents, you see, because by the time we started filming, it was nearly 9 a.m., and since the church was located on the eastern side of O’ahu, the sun was beating down on us, and with no trade winds to cool us off, we were HOT.

Mary and I were warned about wearing sunscreen, and the production had plenty of cold water bottles on hand (although, they did not collect the recycling until I insisted!). However, I was wearing The Jacket, and my walking buddy, Christine, was in a full black dress complete with gauzy over wrap, and BOTH of us were wearing pantyhose. We were about to pass OUT! Each break we could, we stood under a pathetic little tree, the only shade on our side of the courtyard.

After about 1 1/2 hours of filming this scene -- they had to swap babies half way because the first “Aaron” was getting pissed about being dragged in and out of the limo -- the director noticed that the mike held over the actors’ to record their lines was leaving a big shadow on the steps. This would be akin to seeing it dangling over their heads on screen like some trashy porn flick!

(Or so I've heard.)

That wouldn’t do, so the crew was tasked with putting together this really HUGE screen to hide the shadows, the stars were sent off to sit in the shade, drink something and have their makeup touched up, and the extras were left in the sun to bake like bread until the setup was finished.

We were specifically told by Lewis to stay put. We could go to the bathroom (behind the church in a weird outbuilding thingy), but we had to come right back and get in position one and STAY there. Christine, an experienced extra, told me that it could take hours to get the equipment set up, but once they were ready to go, they did not want to have to chase down any extras to start filming again.

I had no issue with this, and I felt badly for poor Mary and Dawn who had NO shade to stand under at all! The spot under the sad, little tree was a bit crowded with 4 people already trying to fit under it, and the ground around it was pretty smooshy from all the rain we had the day before.

Smart Amy "thinks": Well, I don’t want to get my shoes all filthy, and I’m not walking barefoot in the smoosh. This sidewalk () seems clean and dry. I’ll just take off The Jacket (just in case) and have a seat right hear on my position. By the time they shout, “Back to ONE,” I’ll be totally ready to go.

Maybe I should have noticed that no one else was sitting down AT ALL, and maybe I should have noticed that the screen was almost up and that more of the film crew was milling around the set. But I was a little out of it from the heat and waiting. (actually, a LOT out of it!)

Still, I couldn't help but notice that a P.A. (pictured below, bluish T-shirt and ball cap) well above the pond-scum-sector was streaking across the courtyard. When I realized he was headed for ME, I thought, huh, I bet whatever he's screaming applies to me as well. I stood up, concentrated through the haze, and heard, “What if you get dirt on your butt and it shows up on camera!?”

I thought he was referring to The Jacket, so as I stood up, I stupidly held it out to him as if to say, no, I’m not sitting on The Jacket, see? It's fine.

[This first thought is a good indicator of how out of it I was. In my right mind, my VERY first reaction would be: MY BUTT is on CAMERA?!]

Then Mr. P.A. man, who has now attracted the attention of all 70 people on set, shouts just a little too loudly,

“SHOW some RESPECT for the CLOTHES!”

I was out of it, but I was still me. And the Amy look on my face must have been something special because Mary, standing well behind Mr. P.A. man, actually leaned to catch my eye and gently SHOOK HER HEAD at me. I said nothing, but simply donned The Jacket and went back to the “work” of standing in the sun.

Because, as I told Mary later, the simple fact is there are worse things than being screamed at by a ridiculous person in front of very fun crowd.

We went about our business and shot the scene for another hour before finally heading off for a snack, but as we were snacking and drinking, I heard the low buzz around me of extras nudging fellow extras who were trying to sit down and saying, “You’re disrespecting your clothes. You know that, right?”

That shit was funny ALL DAY LONG.

Many hours later, we were finishing up at the church, and all of the few remaining extras were sitting down in one way or another. A group of ladies and I had commandeered a roll of paper towels, and as I made a little seat for myself on the sidewalk, I said, almost to myself, “Do you see me respecting my clothes? Here I go. I’m respecting. I am FULL OF RESPECT."

Just when I said this, another P.A. (who ranked somewhere between Tiffany and Lewis in the P.A. pecking order) was behind me, and he CRACKED UP as he walked by! He turned back to give me the “shh” sign, with a finger over his grin. Then he mouthed silently, “Good job,” before saying into his earpiece, “Copy. I’m on it.”

SNAP!!

Next Up: Extras: How to Make Pals in 10 Hours or Less. . .

The LOST Symphony

2009-01-27T16:22:00.031-10:00

Originally posted December 2, 2007

I decided to re-post this blog after watching the LOST Season 4 DVD because it's a first-person take on the event (and it's damn funny).

After such a LOOOOONG time since the season finale of last MAY, there is not much LOST to be had. As soon as I saw the advertisement for “The Lost Symphony,” I called and got 2 tickets. The music on the show is really interesting, and I was not going to miss any opportunity to see “John Locke” or hear some pretty cool symphony music, AND I'd get my LOST fix. Up until the last minute, I was going alone, but I finally found a friend of a friend who said she'd be interested. She is not a LOST fan, but I tried not to hold that against her since she seemed totally supportive of my need for something, ANYTHING to do with LOST.

This event took place at Waikiki at an outdoor venue called “The Shell.” When we arrived, we immediately noticed that this was a typical Hawaiian production. One would think that the symphony would create an atmosphere of refinement and collect a snazzier set of people, right? Well, it does, but in Hawai’i, snazzier people here are just not the same as snazzier people on the mainland.

For example, the concession stand was open, to include candy, musubi (spam sushi), and large piles of french fries. As usual, there was trash everywhere, especially outside the front gate. AND the “special” seating, up close to the stage, was a line of school cafeteria-style tables and aluminum folding chairs. The centerpiece of the “special” seating was a genuine (according to the program) piece of the actual plane from the actual pilot of the show.
(Yah - Hoo!!)

We craned our necks at the “exclusive backstage party” that was roped off from us but didn’t see anyone we recognized. I was kicking myself by then because I didn’t bring my digital camera! I did not think photography would be allowed, and I didn’t want to leave my expensive camera in the car to encourage a break-in. I was stuck with a disposable camera, which did a less than adequate job overall.

Our seats were to the far right, directly on the outer aisle. We weren’t far from the bathrooms, which were set up next to a trailer behind a few chain link fences. Before long, these two older ladies stood near our row and started debating. Should they go to the restroom before they sat down? Or should they just sit down since the show was about to begin? After a few minutes of this, I leaned over and told them that they only had to crawl over me and Tina, and we didn’t mind either way. They laughed and said, well, then we’ll go to the bathroom first!

After they left, Tina and I discussed these ladies intently. They were wearing the “Exclusive Backstage Pass” stickers on their shirts, high on their shoulders, like nicotine patches. I told Tina, you know, we could easily knock these women over in the bathroom, take their stickers and head backstage before the show. No one would EVER know! Tina said we should wait until AFTER the show just in case we were thrown out. Then we wouldn’t miss any of the music. I agreed, reluctantly, and we decided to wait. Once the ladies returned, the show got underway.

I won’t bore you too much with news of the actual show. The music really was beautiful and interesting, and the musician quality was top notch. Terry O’Quinn introduced every number by reading a “letter” from an unknown “castaway,” and he was lovely. With every piece, a relevant slide show was flashed on a huge screen hanging above the stage, so even Tina could enjoy the music and slide show despite knowing very little about the show.

The reason for all the hi-tech TO DO? This performance was being filmed for inclusion in the Season 4 DVD release. There were, however, a few technical problems with the production. First, the Waikiki Shell is not set up for filming, and camera people were scrambling everywhere to get good shots of the performance. Half way through, I think during some scary music about “the others,” some of the ushers ran out carrying lit torches. (We were like, HUH?) But the most obvious problem was a pretty loud BUUUZZZZ from the sound equipment that we could only hear when the music stopped.

Our two ladies, obviously long-time patrons of the Honolulu Symphony, complained OFTEN about the BUUUZZZZ, and they were relieved when it was fixed about halfway through the performance. However, until that happened, between each and every piece, one of the two would loudly proclaim, “OH. MY. GOD. That buzzing is just TERRIBLE! They should get RIGHT ON THAT.”

After the BUUUZZZing was fixed, our ladies pulled out their concession stand food for examination, discussion and consumption. Out of a white plastic bag came a clear plastic container (like at the grocery store salad bar). Our ladies had some trouble getting it open, and it made a LOT of noise! Then there was some discussion about the quality of the tomatoes, and in the end they decided to close up the salad (much noise), open the sandwich instead (a different plastic container) and split it with a can of soda, which was then loudly opened.

Several people looked sternly over at our ladies, but they were oblivious. They were also oblivious that they had made the most noise through the longest and most touching piece of music (when the raft is finally launched), and, as they continued eating, they remained blissfully unaware of the two of us wiping tears from our eyes and silently hyperventilating in laughter next to them.

My crap disposable camera did its best, but in the dark with the spotlights, it was just unable to perform well. (I also had to hide my own noise with the camera as I had to scroll the film forward after every shot.) I managed to get a pretty good shot of the guy with the enormous head sitting in front of me. I took a shot of the strange torch shenanigans, but you can’t see much, and my pictures of "John Locke" ended up with poor Terry’s head about the size of a pin.
(Kinda like he is here.)

However, I got a REALLY good shot of one of our ladies.

I had Tina sit back and look forward. You can see her hands folded in her lap. Then I took aim, in the dark, and took the shot. The unexpected flash blinded all of us for a moment, and immediately after, I looked forward and muttered “Oops, my bad! Sorry, accident! Sorry, sorry!” as the ladies both shot us a dirty look!

But the shot is perfect. See the SALAD IN QUESTION? See the noisy plastic bag?

OH, but it gets better. The very end of the show, the LAST number, was conducted by the composer, Michael Giacchino. He was introduced by a writer/producer of the show, Carlton Cuse, who claimed that the music had saved their show-writing butts more than once. During the grand finale, which was really stunning, a montage from the show was projected over the stage instead of the slide show. It included a clip from the most recent season finale, where a character named Charlie drowns while “saving the day.”

This scene caused some chittering by the ladies, and it was not long before the one pictured here leaned over to us and said “Did Charlie die?” I shrugged and said, “Well, we don’t really know,” to which she ROLLED HER EYES, WAVED A HAND and said “Oh. You don’t watch the show.” Tina actually put her purse OVER HER FACE while I said, “Oh yes, I watch the show. It just wasn’t clear whether Charlie actually died or not. You know how it is,” to which she ROLLED her eyes and waved a hand, AGAIN!

Such is life: witness the Honolulu Symphony special status supporter with backstage access!!

(Next time, I’m going for the old lady mugging.)

Don't be the Pogue, Part 1

2009-01-01T22:26:00.012-10:00

"The Mary"

My pal Mary despises Matthew Fox.

It's not HATE hate, where she might "accidentally" run over him with her car if given the opportunity. It's more like she finds him profoundly offensive. You see, Mary believes in a bottom line of human behavior. Anything below this line is Rude, and anyone who knows better but still hangs out below that line is a Jackass. Since most people you meet instinctively try not to be a Jackass, pretty much anyone at any given time can meet you halfway even if it's no more than a "Hey" when you catch their eye as you pass by them on the street. This is the key to Mary's super powers: she gives everyone the benefit of the doubt and a minimum level of respect before she ever says a word.

Well, that and the fact that she's totally hot.

She and I have discussed this at length, and although we do agree that "Feigning Ignorance and Interest" is the best way to get a man talking, we disagree on the level of skill it takes to schmooze like she can. She says that all you have to do is ask, and I say, no, all you have to do is ask the right person the right way at the right time. There's a big difference. What she does is put the whammy on people with her fantastic PR skills. It's so amazing to watch in person, I started calling it "The Mary."

For instance, during our day shooting Christian's funeral, Mary chatted up the crew, who are mostly male and mostly home-grown (born and raised in Hawai'i), about what it's like to work on LOST full time. They liked her so much, they gave her a crew T-shirt (unavailable to the public, mind you) AND a copy of the call sheet for the NEXT DAY (a BIG Fucking Deal). She got a crew member to snap a polaroid of me and Shawn on set, which was the only picture of any extra on set that day because our cameras were not allowed. (In fact, if anyone was seen with a camera or shooting pictures with their cell phones they were immediately tossed out on their ass.)

And she did all this without actually asking for anything because that's not why Mary does what she does. She just likes meeting new people. Period. And they like meeting her because she's friendly, interesting, intelligent and fun, (And totally hot. Let's not forget.) and they give her stuff just to make her smile (because she has a really great smile).

What makes it even worse is that she's a genuinely nice human being. More than once, she's gone out of her way to help me out of a jam, and she's the first one to defend the cashier at the grocery store if the customer in front of her is acting like a total jerk. For minimum-wage-earning retail alumni (like me), Mary is a dream come true in a sea of assholes!

So it really cracks me up that she can't stand Matthew Fox.

The Big Scene

When it was time for us to file into the church, Mary and I were right close to Tiffany (where we belonged), and because of this, we ended up sitting front and center during "Jack's" eulogy. This was most excellent, of course, because we were two rows behind the remaining Oceanic 6ers: "Hurley," "Sayid," "Kate" and "Aaron," along with "Nadia," "Sayid's" tragic love interest.

Luckily, we stayed front and center. I say that because after we were staggered (I am two rows behind Kate, but it looks like I'm further back), the director looked us over through the camera, he had Lewis (semi-uber P.A.) shift us around, swapping this person for that one, until we looked "real" enough for television. We felt rotten for this one girl sitting behind us. She was moved twice and then, at the last minute, bumped for some other woman to sit there.

Funny but true: When this new woman arrived, Mary turned to her and said, "Who are you supposed to be, Claire's mom?" She shrugged as we laughed and went about the business of looking "mournful." Turns out, it WAS Claire's mom!

Front and center was not ALL laughs. We were also uncomfortably close to the huge lighting lamps. There's no AC at St. Patrick's (see the fans on the walls?), and it got hot. Fast. Lewis actually turned on all the fans between takes to keep us from dying.

And turns out sitting "behind" "Kate" wasn't all that fun either. (my worst, fucking NIGHTMARE)

As close as we were, we got a bird's eye view of how things work on set. The stand-in was standing in, measurements were taken, and lighting installed (a lighting fire avoided -- thank God). Our faces were blotted, and tissues were distributed to those extras who were to dab their eyes during the speech. In all the doings, no one noticed that Matthew Fox had taken his stand-in's place at the podium.

I didn't notice until Mary reached way over (we were very spread out on the pews) and poked me, saying, "There's your boy." By then, the principle cast had arrived and taken their seats on the first pew, and they and MF were joking back and forth to each other, especially E. Lilly. AND since MF was elevated on the altar and I was right over E. Lilly's shoulder, whenever MF waved, smiled, mouthed a question or made a face, it made my guts blanch because, even though I KNEW it was a trick of angles and line-of-sight, it LOOKED like he was smiling/winking/talking at/to me.

Flashback of Humiliation

I've only felt that way one other time. When I was 15, I went on a skiing trip with my youth group at church. For our group lesson, we had a ski instructor who was just disturbingly hot, and in 15-year-old fashion, I stood FAR away from him and didn't make eye contact because, like any rational person, I don't want anyone to actually KNOW when I've gone Dork on them.

Well, this guy, sensing my distance and perhaps wanting to "make that poor (probably retarded) girl over there feel included" made a point of standing next to me and demonstrating various ski techniques ON ME in front of EVERYONE ELSE by moving my arms and legs ("knees together, sweetie").

This sent me into a Dork Spiral of slurred speech and nausea so bad, I had to go back to the lodge after the lesson.

At the time I remember thinking: Jesus! Can't this guy see the villiage idiot smile on my face? Is he torturing me on purpose? He has to be torturing me on purpose -- fucker!

(Turns out that church thing was a phase.)

At the time I also remember thinking: Okay, just hold it together until this nightmare ends, but whatever you do, don't be the dork who thinks the hot guy's actually interested in you just because he's being nice, winking, flirting and putting his hands all over you. That'll just make you look stupider than you already look, and we are trying to avoid puking in public this week.

Glance-a-thon

There I sat, unprepared and right in the middle of a painful flashback so very much trying not to look at MF while he was goofing with his pals. It was not easy, either, because I was very interested to watch the stars interact with each other, and, let's be honest, MF is lovely to look at -- even more so in person -- and NOT looking at him when he was off camera would be stupid. However, being in his line of sight got worse and worse when they started shooting because he was unable to talk to the guys on the bench, and he started looking around a lot more between takes.

I all could think of was this: No matter what and whatever it takes, don't be the pogue who thinks Matthew Fox is looking at you.

So I did the only thing I could think of. I took off my glasses. Genius, right? That way, I wouldn't really be able to see where he was looking, but I could still see the only other thing worth staring at: the windows in the church. Plus, I was pretty sure that my glasses would make The Jacket (and matching hair) worse. I also thought that the lighting might spark up my glasses on camera, and I was taking a break from being yelled at by P.A.'s ("Show some RESPECT for the LIGHTING!").

Only one problem. My eyesight, when I concentrate really hard, isn't that bad. It wasn't too long before I was watching Matthew Fox again, except THIS time, my face was all screwed up and squinty.

However, thinking about avoiding a Dork moment got me settled down, and I was ready the next time it looked like he was looking at me. When it happened, I quickly glanced away and squinted at the windows.

But when I looked back, I noticed that the cameras were set up in front of the principle cast! He couldn't see them from where he was! And when I looked back at him, he was shrugging with his eyebrows high, like "Okaaaay, nevermind. . ."

I looked at Mary, who later said she'd never before seen anything more pathetic than my face looked at that moment. And why shouldn't it? I had taken Dork to a whole, as-yet-undiscovered low.

JACKASS LEVEL: 7th Ring of Dork Hell

I was the pogue who blew off Matthew Fox when he was actually looking at her.

SHIT!

Next Up: Don't be the Pogue, Part 2

(Oh yeah. It gets worse!)

2008-10-26T16:29:00.000-10:00

Gone Too Far

2008-04-17T00:44:00.014-10:00

If you’ve never watched LOST, well, you know how I feel about you. Perhaps now I also feel jealous of you. Perhaps I feel that you are lucky that you never “bothered” watching a “goofy” show that my mom thinks is “boring.”

I'll explain.

First, I’ll let you in on a little online secret. All those English/film/philosophy/history majors who used to sit around the dorm half-kitchen drinking koolaid and grain alcohol obsessively laughing and discussing goofy things like hairy armpits and Niezche, Twin Peaks (“The owls are not what they seem!”), and the weirdness that is ramen noodles have spent the past few decades wandering through a lifeless desert of adulthood, ever seeking that postmodern thrill of academic discovery, that glowing moment when-ping!-they get it, can explain it, and have access to someone who will listen to it wide-eyed and who will remember that, when “it” comes out in the open, their little group was already in the know.

Suddenly, a silly little thing like the internet has freed us--er--I mean THEM. Those English et al. majors have found a new home online, a place where no matter how extraordinary or how minute, any interesting little tidbit that can be squeezed out of the recent episode of LOST is welcomed with open arms and silent applause. LOST is an English major’s dream--a show that is so simple as to be shown on prime time, but so in depth, so purposefully intelligent, that the core mystery surrounding our losties might actually take 6 years to fully develop.

Now, instead of blogs about Lindsey or Paris, instead of cackling politicos hooting in sync over the next election, instead of pondering the wasteland that will be America when the power goes out, these English majors take time to put together research based theories about LOST and post them online. Then OTHER English majors (and other majors, too, but English ones are the most excited, I’d argue) take time to read these theories, think about them, look up the referenced research and then post critiques/praises for both the theory and the theorist!

[This is what academics call “peer review.”]

The most amazing thing about this process is the long term memory of these LOST analysts. As the show progresses, some theories are “debunked.” That is, events on the show or the specific comments of the producers (also considered “canon”) have provided information that sufficiently proves a posted theory wrong. These theorists are not derided nor their theories erased. They are simply moved to the “debunked” section of the websites, like little memorials--little testaments to critical thinking.

Needless to say, each theorist posts according to his or her own interests. Several of the more interesting theories have been pulled together by research drawn from theology, history, quantum physics, literature, eastern medicine, and the paranormal (the Bermuda Triangle, the afterlife). Theories have been pulled from everything from Star Trek to Shakespeare and have veered down the path of time loops, time travel, time lines, clones, and aliens. Theories for the show have events taking place backwards, in a main character’s hallucination, in another main character’s dream state and in the center of the Earth or on the moon.

There is even a small faction of dedicated fans who have figured out that the strange sounds dispersed throughout the show are actually whispered voices that pertain to the action of the show. The producers let leak that the whispers were scripted, that is, a writer or two is required to actually create them according to the mythology and action of the show. Then a sound technician spends hours distorting and burying these whispers in the soundtrack (most of these sounds actually can not be heard by the human ear). Consequently, the whisper theorists have spent hundreds of man-hours pulling the audio of the show apart, debating the results and collaborating together on transcripts of what is heard. These whispers, which are often reversed, in other languages, or in code, lend even more information to the meaning of events on the show.

As each season passes, all non-”debunked” theories are reexamined according to the new evidence, and prior seasons, via downloading online or purchasing the dvd sets, are also reexamined and often reinterpreted, yet again.

I’m sure you are asking yourself (or me), “Why on Earth would anyone DO this? What is so special about this show that makes it worth all this trouble? Why not just wait until the end and find everything out at once?”
Well, I’ll tell you. The simple reason is that the producers have convinced us (and proven beyond a shadow of a doubt) that from the show’s inception, they have had a clear plot line and a decisive ending planned for the show. This means that everything we need to solve the mystery is actually already there in front of us. We just haven’t been able to “see” it yet.

Let’s remember the academic investigator’s primary purpose in life -- to be able to say “I TOLD you so, losers!” What could be more glorious than presenting your research, being right despite detractors and symbolically rubbing it in every single nay-sayer’s face over and over again for eternity! These days, the stakes are very high, as the show is now over halfway through. There are no accolades for those who guess right AFTER the definitive show airs. Posted dates are sacrosanct, and there can really only be one big answer in the end. Simply said, we all want to be “The One Who Figured IT Out.”

Enter yours truly. First, I must tell you that I am not one of the more dedicated theorists. I have only posted 3 theories online, and those were all this past year. I have been watching the show since its inception (9/22/2004), and I LOVE putting together ideas with a few friends. However, I actually had to create some LOST fans to commiserate with by forcing my friend J. to watch the first 2 seasons on dvd while she was recovering from a nose-job at my house and by buying my friend T. the dvd sets as gifts for law school graduation, knowing all along she’d be too poor to have cable and ultimately driven to watch them.

My dedication to the online world of LOST is spotty as well. We have only had broadband and a decent computer (iMac, of course) since we’ve moved to Hawai’i. I haven’t had time to really poke around the billions of fan sites. I basically stick to DarkUFO.com, which I enjoy, and the ABC official LOST theories site, which I have pretty much abandoned these days. I am too wary of “spoilers,” plot leaks that pop up on some unscrupulous sites that tell too much information about upcoming shows and ruin it for the rest of us who want to be surprised.

[One day I’ll have to blog on the phenomenon of spoilers and LOST because it is very interesting to me. If you post a “spoiler” without warning potential viewers, these fans will not only ban you from the site, they’ll make sure you can’t log on to any other LOST site as well! It’s like Emily Post meets Google to create a hypersensitive, online manners-enforcing mafia!]

That being said, my first theory about what tied many things together on LOST actually held up very well. Basically, I was right! I earned my minor accolades, and my theory, posted November 2, under “aohora” is still one of the “hottest” on the abc website!

My latest theory, however, has NOT done so well. It’s not even a theory really, but an observation, like the whispers, that could really crack the entire code of the show.

Behold the picture at the beginning of this blog. This is a screencap (or still frame) of the very first shot of the very first show in Season 1. This is Jack’s eye as he wakes up after the plane crash. He is in the jungle, alone, and after seeing a golden lab run by (sorry, newbies, no time to explain), he pulls himself up and proceeds to be the hero of our story.

Not too long ago, I picked up on a random clue from the online virtual reality game based on LOST (again, sorry, no time to clear that one up either) that there might be something hidden inside pictures or paintings that show up in an episode. After investigating that and finding HUNDREDS of hidden, digital images, I continued to poke around the older episodes I have on dvd. After finding even MORE strange pictures, I started to see a pattern to the hidden images I saw, which, I noticed, were “hidden in plain sight” more and more as the show went on. Based on this info, I posted a simple query to see if anyone else had noticed these pictures and to ask what they thought about it.

Well, at first, the reaction was mixed. Most posters simply ignored my comments, but a few asked me to “show them” what I meant. Dumb aohora arrived at that moment and was unable to put together a decent digital display for all to see showcasing the strongest evidence for what I had to say. You’ll notice that I use a pre-created website for my photos and writings here. I couldn’t hypertext my way out of a paper bag. I tried my best, but basically I said, look, play your dvd on slow motion at this point in this scene. You can’t miss it.

Well, they did miss it. Not only did they miss it, they felt stupid missing it, and I ended up in the middle of a modern day “Emperor's New Clothes” online nightmare. When I pressed (for example, can you see the skull in the pupil of the eye pictured above? I can see it, PLAIN AS DAY.), I actually received my first really negative feedback. In the land of clones, smoke monsters, men who see and speak to the dead (not to mention the sonic fences that keep the monsters/dead away), I was told, by more than one poster, that I had simply “GONE TOO FAR.” I had taken a decent show and TOTALLY invested SO much energy into it that I should be in a mental institution (like a few of the main characters). Making up “hidden pictures” was just “beyond sad,” and I had better get a life before I became a “total freak.”

Yeah. That’s what I said, too.

Actually, I wrote back that digital information was like germs or vitamins. I may not know how they work, I may not be able to see them, but, as chemistry is chemistry, digital info is digital info--there’s no way to make up THIS MUCH information over 4 seasons of a show.

Well, that sparked a storm of replies about “giving it up” and “posting that s&*t on a loser website.”

Apparently, I was damaging the theoretical process!

This reaction was so vehement that a few of my online colleagues felt they needed to defend me, and they did so by posting things like, “if aohora sees digital images and wants to post about them, then she should be able to. It’s no more ludicrous than some of the other garbage going up on this site.”

Somehow, this did not make me feel better.

Then another online pal wrote, “Just because I don’t see hidden images doesn’t mean that aohora doesn’t see them. It’s not fair to penalize aohora's own opinion and imagination.”

Hmm.....

Finally, after a few more escalating exchanges about my imagination and gall, the “we’ll have you banned for being abusive” gauntlet was thrown down, and there was no more discussion. AT ALL. Not ONE person in the entire online world has or is willing to post about hidden pictures. I thought that was VERY odd myself. Now that I had these weird reactions to deal with, I decided there must be some other reason. I mean, there’s a cat on Jacob’s shoulder in the cabin, for crying out loud, and you don’t need an advanced degree in digital imagery to see it. All you need is a PAUSE button on your dvd player, FAR less complicated equipment than what is needed to, um, pull invisible whispers out of hidden audio tracks.

Just what exactly is going on here?

I finally did find one other poster who agreed with me, SpOOky, a fan who runs the screencaps page on DarkUFO. Apparently, he caught wind of my situation and decided to help me out. We created a temporary website to post a few pictures that we saw, but he never did offer any theory or defense of them, and I never heard from him again after that first collaboration.

So I’m wondering. Have I finally LOST my mind (HA!)? Have I become a person that the English/history/philosophy majors used to laugh at over their particularly potent and foul tasting pre-dancing cocktails?

OR have I stumbled upon a clue SO huge that I’m being shut down before I can “spoil” it?

AND could this mean that your old pal has “it” in the palm of my hand? The central theory to the mystery of LOST--is it mine for the posting? Will aohora go down in internet history as the “crazy” who was actually RIGHT? Will my English major lifestyle finally be vindicated?

Stay tuned, brothers and sisters, I’ll be sure to keep you posted!

**[Just in case you're lost (ha!), here's LOST in a nutshell: a plane crashes on a lovely south pacific island, where the survivors are consequently subjected to mutilation by a “smoke monster,” capture and torture by “the others,” who already live in suburban paradise/dystopia on said island, nearly blown up by “the hatch,” an underground station where “the button” is pushed to prevent world devastation, and, eventually face internal strife over rescue by a potentially deadly crew of motley, machine-gun toting, “time traveling” sacks of testosterone on a crumbling freighter ship offshore. And that’s not the half of it, really.]