The city of Gotham, much like New York, appears to spread over different boroughs. For my last appearance, I had to catch the L train to Williamsburg. This time, I was going almost 80 blocks north to the Bronx.
As a person who considers any area other than my living room to be outside my comfort zone, this was going to be quite an experience. I knew that I was most likely going to be the only white person in the 15 minutes it took to walk from the 161st Street station to the Gotham holding area.
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| Nothing unusual about this guy... if it's 1944. |
I had no problem with that. But there were two other matters that I felt would make me stick out. First, I was dressed in a style not seen since Pres. Roosevelt's third term. That in itself didn't make me uncomfortable. In fact, I rather liked it. I felt at home in this look, as if I previously lived in that time.
But -- and this is something nobody, even my doctor, has ever quite understood -- when I made it to the #4 subway platform, I immediately felt like I was in a dream.
A sudden drop in blood pressure? A weird sugar rush? I have no idea. It's as if I was watching myself instead of being, although the dreamlike-state is more accurate. This feeling -- and it's happened on and off most of my life -- is always accompanied by a vague sense of paranoia, the kind you often get when smoking grass (or so I've been told, heh heh).
And instead of an early morning call when few people are on the streets or in transit, this was roughly 1:00 on a sunny afternoon, when all areas of New York were bustling. Please God, I prayed, don't let me fall apart. And don't let me lose my lucky fedora -- it's perfect for Gotham.
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| In case you've never been to the Bronx, this is what it looks like. |
To my relief, nobody seemed to notice me. I was not only accepted when I got off the train, I was ignored, which, frankly, is my favorite state of being, except when in a restaurant. By the time I settled into the holding area, I was feeling normal again, which isn't necessarily a good thing.
As I regaled you in a previous post, the wardrobe folks at Gotham went gaga over my outfit. They even liked my brown and tan saddle shoes (the pair I wore at my wedding 25 years ago). And, unusual for me, I spent about 15 minutes in the make-up chair in order to look beautiful for the camera, and get rid of the pesky "shine" my face radiates. (I prefer to think of it as glowing.)
The set was outside the old Bronx County Court House, built in 1934 and closed 43 years later. My role was that of a newspaper photographer. While one scene was shot in the late afternoon when the sun was still out, most of it was filmed at night, giving the set a more Gothamy feel. The main characters were Jim Gordon, Harvey Bullock, and Penguin.
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| On assignment for the Gotham Gazette. |
You could barely see me in the late afternoon scene, but the nighttime shoot was different. This was where it pays to have the right look, because the A.D. put me in the spots where I was going to be seen. Unlike other extras who don't care, I want to be on camera. I mean, why else are we doing this (other than for the money and free food)?
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| "Can you hold that pose while I get another angle, boys?" |
I was all over the scene, both in the background and foreground, standing still taking pictures with a flash camera, and walking to different areas (at the behest of the A.D., that is. I don't do these things on my own). The way it was edited, you could hardly not see me at one point or another, even when the "police" were trying to block the "photographers" from doing their job.
We finished at midnight. While most of the extras got to exchange their outfits for their own clothes, I was the only person who returned home exactly the way he appeared on Gotham. Somehow, looking like that on the subway at 12:30 in the morning, I was even more ignored. Just another kook on the train looking for a gin mill. Yes, right at home.
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