STRICTLY ON BACKGROUND, PT. 41: "HUNTERS"

In the four years I've been working as an extra, I've been on the set with a few A-listers. But none were more A-listy than Al Pacino on the Amazon Prime series Hunters. If I had never worked again, I could always tell people, "Pacino? Oh yeah, great guy, everything you'd think he'd be. Lemme tell you about him. Wait, don't go away, this was a cool job!..."

Some of my best roles are Jewish.

Did I say cool? Well, on a metaphysical level, absolutely. But physcial? Oof, not by a long shot. We worked last July 10-12 during a brutal New York heatwave -- the worst kind, if you haven't experienced it. 

At the time, Hunters was going by the alternate titles The Hunt and Leviathan. We had been told it was a series about Nazi hunters in 1970s New York, which could mean only one thing: ugly fashion. 

The wardrobe department came through splendidly. My God, how hideous we looked! And nothing makes you appreciate your own summer wardrobe when you're dressed in 100% polyester in 90% humidity.




The first day of filming was a wedding scene at the Eldridge Street Synagogue, built in 1887 in the middle of Chinatown. (Where else would you expect a synagogue?) As I settled in one of the pews, the woman next to me pointed to a man two rows up. "I think that's Al Pacino's stand-in." A few minutes later, Pacino loped in and exchanged places with him. 

In the scene, we were all looking at the cantor, but in my brain, I was still staring at Pacino. I can be seen to the left of him, two rows back, minus my glasses. Wardrobe ordered them off because they looked too contemporary. Once again, I pay the price for my keen fashion style.

Until I watched this episode, I had forgotten that I'd filmed one scene outside the synagogue as well. The only thing jarred my memory was a van, which was part of the show, pulling up and speeding away over the course of several takes. It's remarkable how I look totally bald atop my head when I actually do have several or more hairs -- though, admittedly, not as many as my colleague in the gray suit.

The Montauk Club a little before we showed up.

The next two days of filming the wedding celebration were at the Montauk Club, which, despite its name, is located in Brooklyn. (You can see the room where we filmed on this page.) By then, it had gotten even hotter and stickier. 

The holding area on the first floor had a fan the size of a VW Bug, which helped if you didn't sit too close or too far way. 

Upstairs in the dining room, where we were working, was an elaborately-hooked up portable air conditioner which felt great -- until it had to be shut off when filming commenced. Then it was like being in a very ritzy steam bath.

My first scene, which didn't make the final cut, featured Pacino chatting with another guest near the bar. While I couldn't make out their dialogue, I was close enough to think, Wow, he sounds like he's imitating Al Pacino!  Another scene, featuring a guest giving a speech, remained but I was nowhere to be seen. 

But it was after lunch when I finally got to shine. A few other extras and I, dubbed "The Old Guys" by the P.A., were directly involved in a scene where the actor playing Pacino's grandson notices their necklace with a Hebrew letter (don't ask me what it was or meant -- this was a year ago). 

We filmed around the buffet table as we helped ourselves to food we never got to eat. At the beginning of the scene, I entered from the left. 

But it was the next shot -- which was actually filmed first -- that knocked me out (in a good way). I was chosen for the close-up of the necklace. As they set up the shot, I was rehearsing the fine art of helping myself to food. 

When I looked up, there were two cameras pointed at me from directly across the table. One of my colleagues, watching a monitor, later told me I looked stunned. As you can see, by the time they started filming, I had sufficiently regained my composure.

Later in the evening came the hora. Only people who knew the dance were wanted on set, so that left me out. But at some point, a P.A. asked for volunteers to fill out the scene. Guess who stood up first.

It took a few forwards and rewinds, but I found myself in the back row in the middle of the shot. The only reason why I knew it was me was my open collar and equine smile. 

We were at the Montauk Club until midnight or so. Many of us, no longer needed on set, were hanging around outside in the muggy evening when Pacino and his assistant exited and walked to his car. He looked at my colleague Sasha and me, and said, "G'night, fellas!" as only he can. We returned the farewell before I turned to Sasha and whispered, "Al Pacino said goodnight to us!" 

The only other moment that rivaled the thrill I got from our exchange was earlier in the day, when the other "Old Guys" and I mentioned how old we were. When I said, "Sixty-three," one of them laughed and said, "He's just a kid!" Never before did I take that as a compliment.

If this is how I look in real life one day,
please shoot me.

The story would have ended there if I hadn't been unexpectedly called back two weeks later for a funeral scene at the synagogue. Just to shake things up, I was now in a different suit and wore a typically-repulsive pair of 1970s eyeglasses, which did nothing for my looks. Why do old guys always wear over-sized glasses? It looks they're looking through two TV screens.

In the synagogue, I was no longer behind Pacino but one aisle over. The wide shot at the beginning of the scene wasn't wide enough for either my colleague nor me to be seen. I had better luck in the over-the-shoulder shot behind Carol Kane at the coffin.

I would have drawn an arrow pointing to me, but that would have been even more pathetic than hitting the pause
 button every two seconds just for my blurry image.

OK, see the tops of the heads to the left of the coffin? Now, look at the couple behind them. I'm on the inside. This isn't the most impressive moment of my career. But did I tell you about the time I worked with Al Pacino?

POSTSCRIPT: I have to share a typical conversation with my wife regarding the show. Following my close-up at the buffet table, the camera went tighter on the necklace.

My wife was shocked. "That's not you!" she claimed. 

"Whaddaya mean it isn't me?" I retorted wittily. "Do you know how many takes we did?"


She pointed to  the screen. "That person has hair on his chest!"

Oh my God. My wife just saw me share the screen with Al Fucking Pacino, and get a close-up, and all she can say I have a hairless chest? "Look, that's me!" I barked like an incensed Rottweiler.

"Well, maybe they used somebody else," she reasoned (badly).

This was getting wacky even by her standards. "THEY DIDN'T USE ANYONE ELSE! THAT'S ME!" 

This didn't satisfy her, of course, because it ran counter to her narrative. Naturally, I couldn't let it go either. The next day, I froze the screen and took a better look before calling her in to point out that what she had mistaken for hair was actually my goddamn veins. Which made me almost wish I had let her continue thinking they used a hairy-chested stand-in.

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