I’m in for five days, Monday through Friday. It’ll feel like a real job—well, almost. It’s definitely not. I’m an Adam Sandler temp.
Moments after I exit the extra bus, an enormous, airless, lumbering vessel, I report to holding, a vacant sporting goods store within an empty Long Island shopping center. Moments later, everything turns to shit—literally. The restroom, which is doubling as the extra dressing room, breaks down, floods, and everything. No, there’s no janitor.
I’m in an Adam Sandler movie within an Adam Sandler movie.
The set is a hotel reception area, just a short walk away. PAs herd us over as if we’re cattle, par for the course. As Sandman demands, the set is air-conditioned. I’ve heard that Ben Stiller also prefers a chilly set and even pays his actors a slight bump in pay for the discomfort. There’s no bump here—dinero is Dollar Tree tight.
In fact, casting was specifically looking for individuals with their own transportation so production wouldn’t have to bus people in. I was a very last-minute hire, as casting apparently had no other options. I appreciate the cool air, but the most background grumble.
Just a few days earlier, when I was a spectator at a Little League game for this movie, we sat in the scorching sun for two consecutive days, and everyone kvetched about the excessive heat. Rachel Dratch looked like she was wearing a burka.
Photo courtesy Dreamstime
One particularly fragile extra broke down. “This sucks!” she screamed. She didn’t have to be taken away in a straitjacket, but it was close. Eventually, some background started to kvetch about the kvetchers. “Adam’s out here, and he’s not complaining!” an older man declared. It went on and on. Oy vey! Unfortunate truth: background—like most people in general—will never be happy.
Anyway, we’re out of the heat, shooting the movie’s wedding ceremony, and Robert Smigel, the film’s director, is concerned. Smigel, who’s perhaps best known for creating Triumph the Insult Comic Dog, a popular puppet character, is a delightful man with an impressive résumé.
However, he hasn’t thought through every minuscule detail of this shoot. I’ll learn later that he was reluctant to direct this, and Sandman had to nudge him into it. At the Little League game, Smigel, who’s making his feature film directing debut, was struggling to direct more than two hundred overheated, cranky people—no easy task—without a bullhorn. Today, Smigel wonders aloud who exactly in the wedding party should be standing under the chuppah.
“Google it!” I want to crack, but I wisely stay in my lane. Seen not heard is my mantra. Regardless, I strongly doubt that a rabbinical scholar will be scrutinizing this flick’s chuppah protocol. Chris Rock, who plays the father of the groom, is solemn, which seems consistent with his character’s demeanor. However, I suspect that Rock—which is how Sandman and Smigel refer to him—is genuinely not too happy. Or perhaps I’m projecting. My tight suit and painful shoes, both of which the wardrobe forced on me, aren’t helping. I’d planned on wearing my loose-fitting suit, but wardrobe nixed that.
When you’re standing around all day, waiting, attire, shoes in particular, are crucial. Rock knows this. Between takes, Rock insists on wearing comfortable white sneakers. During a brief break, Rock can’t resist ripping a one-liner, referring to the movie’s bride and groom. “They’ll be divorced in three years,” he cracks in a low voice, almost like he’s neutered. “It’s better to be divorced in three than sixteen.” It’s probably one of the best lines of the shoot. Why does Rock seem to be less than enthused? Well, stand-up is a sprint. You create and get immediate feedback—a rush. Movies, well, they’re a methodical, repetitious, scripted slog.
It’s take after take after take, and waiting and waiting and waiting. Also, unfortunately, this film doesn’t have the feel of a future Oscar contender—or even The Wedding Singer. But that’s just me.
Our plodding shuttle bus hits a traffic jam, and we don’t touch down until about 11 p.m. Union background should’ve broken into a hora. They make OT after eight hours and double time after ten.
I’m not in the union, of course, so I’m just spent. Yes, there’s a set hierarchy, and all extras aren’t equal. Union extras get perks like getting compensated for transportation time. Nonunion? Well, we’re allowed oxygen.
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For more Sandman adventures and other fun stories, check out. Unfortunately, I was available.
