"Extras are meat." A Belarusian tells about working as an extra in cinema
Can you make a living as an extra, and how do you get into movies without connections? Myfin shared the experience of David, who dreamed of cinema since childhood.
Many dream of getting on the big screen, but the path there rarely begins with red carpets. Most often, it starts with 12-hour shifts in the cold, a disdainful attitude from filmmakers, and a fee that barely covers food. David began his journey with Minsk extras work to earn money for a rented room, and then made his way to episodic roles.
About failed enrollment, bad photos, and the magic of character types
David was about 14 years old when he first realized he wanted to touch the sphere of cinema. The boy spent more time on the school stage than in lessons and dreamed of entering Oleg Tabakov's school in Moscow. He was graduating in 2020, and the coronavirus pandemic prevented him from enrolling: admission for that year was simply closed.
— At that moment I thought: "Well, that's it." I decided that while waiting for a new enrollment, I needed to at least somehow work in the film industry. I lived near Minsk and decided to move to the capital, where the main film action is. I subscribed to all possible extra casting groups and started waiting. I found some ads on "VKontakte" looking for actors for crowd scenes. They told me to send photos. And I sent a selfie in glasses and a hat on the street, where there was terrible overexposure. My advice: never do that! Send normal pictures where your face, eyes, character type, etc., are visible. As a result, David was invited to film.
But after a couple of shifts, he realized he wanted more. After another shoot, the guy approached the brigadier, who is responsible for the extras, and said: "I want to film constantly. I need money for housing in Minsk, give me at least some small episodic role, I can already do it!" He was told that a professional portfolio was necessary for this.
— After that, they started taking me more often. First extras, then commercials, short films. And finally, they started inviting me for episodic roles. These were mainly Russian projects that came to film in Belarus, because it's cheaper to do it here.
"We were paid 25 rubles for 12 hours of work"
Whether you can earn money from extras work is an open question. Some treat it as a side job, while others stick with it for years.
— In the summer, during holidays, I filmed almost every day or every other day. And with that money, I managed to rent a room in Minsk and buy food. But it's very difficult to call it a full-fledged income. Extras work can only support the most basic needs.
— How much was your working hour worth?
— In 2020, they paid about 20-25 rubles per shift (about $8 at the 2020 exchange rate. — Note: MYFIN). In cinema, a standard shift is 12 hours, and overtime was always paid extra, usually about 10% per hour. That is, an additional 2.5 rubles were added to 25 rubles for every extra 60 minutes. I really hope that now the rates have increased to at least 50 rubles. That would be fair.
David is talking specifically about filming as an extra. Commercials or episodic scenes are paid higher. There are many open advertisements for filming crowd scenes, but wages are usually not mentioned. From what was found: fees from 45 to 70 rubles per shift.
The problem is that sooner or later, projects end. Not many films are shot simultaneously in Minsk.
If you've appeared even a little bit in the frame, even in a blurry background, they won't take you for that project again. The maximum is if you were standing with your back to the camera; the next day, the brigadier might say: "Come tomorrow, just shave your beard, we'll change your clothes." And that's it, twice is the limit.
According to David, guys who have been filming for years view extras work not as a job, but as a social gathering.
There's always a core group—about ten people who know each other. You come, hug them, you chat about everything for 12 hours, drink tea, and at the end, you even get a little bit of money.
— Can you leave earlier if your scene has been filmed?
— Even if they promise a short shift, it's better to have those 12 hours in reserve. The sun shines however it wants, you can wait a long time for its rays to fall correctly. But sometimes you get lucky: they put you next to the main character, you looked at him, left—and that's it, you've made an appearance. In other scenes of this film, you can no longer be used because you are "that same passerby." In such a case, you can come for half an hour, film, and go home.
Extras are in constant waiting. You arrive at the appointed time and will wait at least an hour and a half to appear in the shot. And sometimes, you won't even be filmed. You're on set from early morning, waiting until six in the evening, and the brigadier comes up and says: "Sorry, we're done for today." But you'll still be paid for such a shift.
About the attitude on set
I once filmed as an extra in a war movie and remember how we froze for hours, lying in trenches, in some ragged padded jackets, while the main character crawled over us. David didn't have such difficult shoots, although he did have to freeze.
— I'll be blunt: extras are meat. Actors in crowd scenes are often treated disgustingly, and you have to be prepared for that. They herd you like soldiers: "Come here! Shout louder! Hands up!" You're just background, you're nothing. No one cares if you're cold, hungry, or thirsty. You go for tea, and they tell you: "Why are you coming here? The tea's already gone!" I often left the set thinking I was worthless and that nothing would work out in my life.
— And if you play an episodic or a main role, is the attitude different?
— Absolutely different. In advertising projects, even extras are treated better; the budgets are different there. As for roles... I'll give an example. Recently in Minsk, we filmed a scene on the roof of a high-rise building. It was December, freezing, icy wind, but according to the plot, it was summer. So I was filming in just a linen shirt. It was terribly cold.
But the difference is that as soon as "Stop, shot!" was called—people immediately ran to me with blankets, down jackets, hot tea. Everyone understood that the actor needed to be protected so he could survive and finish playing the role. If I were an extra, no one would have even remembered me on that roof.
At the same time, David is understanding towards extra brigadiers. He believes that these people are entrusted with immense responsibility, and they are constantly rushed: "Why did your crowd go the wrong way?!" They can be deprived of money for mistakes.
Therefore, they work under tremendous stress and often snap. They talk in a military-like manner not because they hate others, but because they are deadly tired.
— Are extras cheated out of money?
— In Belarus, this practically doesn't happen. Our market is tiny; capable brigadiers can be counted on one's fingers. If someone "throws" someone over, rumors will spread instantly, and the person will lose their job. No one in their right mind would ruin their reputation.
— How quickly are fees usually paid?
— In Minsk, extras actors are most often given money directly by hand in cash at the end of the shift. However, in advertising projects or for larger roles, payment is made by contract, and delays there are common. Payments can be expected from one to three months.
But, despite all the difficulties of such filming, it was extras work, according to David, that became the first step on his cinematic path.