Part 20 in a series of irreverent tales from my experience as a Tolkien-nerd working as an extra on the first series of Amazon’s The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power television show.
This week I have been watching the first series again, mainly to jog my fading memory, and it occurred to me that if we had filmed the Númenor scenes in chronological order then I would have soon realised what was happening. But filming doesn’t work like that, and for the most part I remained thoroughly confused, even though I was there for most of the Númenor stuff.
Mind you, I did miss two weeks in the middle. I had to call in sick one day. I had a cold and, although I had tested negative, we’re told to stay away if we show any covid symptoms. I let my agency know and resigned myself to missing the next few days. A couple of days later I sent an email to my agency to let them know I was keen to go again. Another week passed and I hadn’t been given any more work, which seemed odd – there was clearly plenty left to film. The agency weren’t getting back to me, but I realised I had the mobile number for Mary, the head of the extras casting department, on my last call sheet. I called her up and asked if that was it for the City Guard? (And if so then do you need more orcs? Dwarves? Elves? Ok maybe not elves.) Mary told me that they had been requesting me, but my agency had said that I wasn’t interested in doing any more work. What? The bastards! Luckily Mary was only too happy to have me back in the City Guard, and indeed I was back on duty the very next day, and for the remainder of filming.
My original intent to find out as much about the plot as I could was still simmering in the background, but I had long since decided that main thing was to make the most of this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and enjoy the hell out of it. Every time I went on set in my City Guard costume was ridiculously exciting. I’ve been dropping in and out of Middle-earth since I was eight years old, and when the crew clear the set and the tape rolls it doesn’t take much work to imagine you’re right there in the story for real. There were a few really magical moments of this nature, but one in particular stood out.
On one of the first of many days in the court room, we filmed a scene where Galadriel is introduced to Miriel. We filmed this scene in much greater detail with many more people sometime later, and I think they must have rewritten it. But on this occasion, the room was relatively empty. I wasn’t wearing my contact lenses, so everything was a bit blurry, but this isn’t always a bad thing – the well-lit focus of the scene is much easier for me to see than the darker parts of the room where the crew are, which just adds to the illusion of reality. I was on my usual guard duty by the Big Doors at the top of the stairs with a great view of the action on the floor, and for once I could clearly hear all the dialogue.
Pharazôn introduces Queen-Regent Míriel, making it clear that she is a Very Important Person of a Very Important People, followed by a derisive “and who are you, elf?”
Slowly and deliberately, Morfydd Clark says “I am Galadriel of the Noldor. Daughter of the golden house of Finarfin. Commander of the Armies of High King Gil-Galad”. Mic drop.
Yeah, follow that Pharazôn . Honestly, I got chills on the first take. Morfydd’s icy delivery was perfection, and for a moment I was right there in Arda. Of course, on one level of course those words might be viewed as some guy’s fictional nonsense. But on another level, these are words that to me carry a great weight and great meaning, words that have been part of my life, decade after decade. I think any Tolkien fan can appreciate how awesome it is to be a part of something like this. It’s weird how something can be so self-evidently staged, so clearly false, yet still invite feelings that are so emotionally real. This was exactly the sort of shit I signed up for.
Something else I would always sign up for is watching Creatures Wrecking Human Plans. Unlike Galadriel’s introduction in the finished show, this initial version had far few people in the court room. It was very quiet, indeed silence was essential, and the natural reverb of the room amplified every sound while the cameras rolled. And what it amplified particularly well were the sweet little chirps of a couple of sparrows that had found their way into the studio building (I presume they both had cute little lanyard IDs with them to get past security) and were now frolicking around in the lighting rigs above the set. This delayed things. For several hours.
I do very much enjoy the fact that the plans of a global behemoth – in a studio full of people working away on the most expensive television show ever made, a room full of millions of dollars of the latest film technology, telling a story based on one of the greatest books ever written – can be scuppered entirely by two sparrows. For several hours.
The problem is that you can’t just ask them to leave. Or rather you can, but they don’t pay any notice. If only Bard were here. You can’t get near them, as they’re way up in the ceiling which is only accessible with considerable security equipment and bravery. The building is huge, so in the absence of a friendly neighbourhood Spiderman your best bet is to hope that they fly off into a corner and put their claws up long enough for you to get a couple of takes done. And this is indeed how we spend most of the day, cutting takes during sparrow downtime and occasionally having extended leave from the building while various failed sparrow hunting expeditions took place. Good work, sparrows – you bow to no one.
* This photo is not of the actual studio sparrows^
^ I mean I guess it’s not entirely out of the question, but it does seem incredibly unlikely.