The Old That Is Strong Does Not Whither

DIARY OF A CITY GUARD – PART 12

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.

The last couple of installments have – at last – contained plenty of revelations as I’ve begun to discover what the show is about, so I thought I’d take time out for a couple of sidebars on some other matters that I’ve touched on lately.

I rather glossed over the end-of-day routine in the previous installment. Essentially I’d hit my word count target and still had to figure out a way to shamelessly crowbar a Tolkien reference into the piece that I could use as a title (which sometimes takes longer than writing the actual piece!) so I dropped my planned explanation of the de-robing process as it was getting close to bed-time. <GRABS CROWBAR> After all, just because the old that is strong does not whither doesn’t mean that it doesn’t get tired.

The actual process of getting changed is but a small part of the City Guard’s end-of-day routine:

Step 1:

First up, there’s a distinct change in the air that lets you know the day is about to wrap. Even if the extra is likely not needed anymore you will more often than not be kept hanging around the rest of the day until filming wraps, just in case someone screwed up and they actually do need you. And as you’re being paid a day rate anyway, it doesn’t cost anything to keep you around. Even though you likely have no official guidance, you can tell a wrap is close – ADs start checking watches even more than usual, various crew start to look restless and few might start packing bits down ready for the call so they can get home that little bit sooner. Pretty much like the end of day at most workplaces really. Of course, once you realise a wrap is close, time does its thing and starts to crawl and while you were fine sitting on your arse doing nothing for the last five hours you will now struggle to wait an interminable ten more minutes.

Step 2:

“Ok everyone that’s a wrap!”

Hooray! We’re officially finished. That means we’ll be out of here in <checks notes> only two more hours! Oh.

Okay it’s not always that long, but on a show the size of Rings of Power it usually is. It was common to have between one and two hundred extras on set on any particular day, and it’s a bit of a logistical exercise to wrap that many people. After all, while we were drip-fed on to set in the morning as we finished with costume and make-up after staggered arrival times perhaps 3 hours apart, now we have all finished at the same time. And we all have to get back to the unit basecamp via the shuttle buses. Which means standing in a queue waiting for a handful of Toyota Hiace buses to eventually ferry everybody back. As the most heavily armed extras we have weaponry to return to the armoury as we leave set, inevitably leading to us being at the back of said queue.

Step 3:

Back in our heavy secret-keeping robes we are finally at the front of the queue and ready for the shuttle bus. The buses can each take a comfortable ten extras – or about four fully dressed City Guards, for whom ‘tis a struggle just to get through the door and sit down.

Step 4:

Back at base, and things start to turn in the City Guard’s favour. As we enter the costume enormo-tent we are met with the end of a long line of extras waiting to be called in to wardrobe and undressed. Oh good, more waiting! However our Guard status sees us whisked past the main queue (while smiling smugly at everyone in said queue) and straight into our own special queue where we are each assigned one, sometimes two, costume peeps to remove our armour.

Step 5:

At first it takes a while to undress a guard – after all, the costume staff are learning how to best operate our costume just as we are. In due course we will all learn how to remove every item ourselves in no time at all, motivated not by a desire to be a helpful part of the crew, rather the realisation that if do it ourselves we’ll get home quicker still. But for now, breast plates and greaves must be unbuckled, vambraces and capes untied, helmets unstrapped. All of these items must then be stored on an inordinately fiddly and clumsy coat hanger/bag set up.

Step 6:

We’re back at our own personal coat hangers in wardrobe, where we have only three more layers to remove before we can put on our own clothes. But before we can experience the joys of the smells created by a dozen City Guards undressing after a long hot day, we must remove out boots. As I mentioned before, unlike the rest of the costume these boots are complete shit, and we all wait for a chair to become available whereby we can sit down and try and undo the 20+ tiny little lace holes before finally managing to tear our feet out into freedom, sweet glorious freedom. But we’re changed, so let’s go home!

Step 7:

Ah fuck it, we need to sign out. There is of course a queue for this. One of the ADs will have a clipboard full of lists of extras, and once they eventually find your name you can enter the time and sign off. Let’s go home!

Step 8:

Oops, nearly forgot, we need to get our phones back. They were handed in on our arrival (after a while everyone just sort of came to an unspoken agreement to stop bothering with this, but early on in the piece it was a matter of highest importance) and the retrieval of one’s device of course necessitates another queue. I think we’re up to five queues thus far? But with phone back in hand, we’re ready – let’s go home!

Step 9:

Leaving the costume tent leads to only one thing. Yep, another queue. But of course there is – we must now get on another shuttle bus to return to the car park! Luckily, as an Englishman, queuing is in my blood. The end of the day is so close you can reach out and touch it, but it remains for the moment tantalisingly out of reach. However once we’re finally back at the car park the day ends on an amusing note. The windows of the shuttle are blacked out for secrecy, not with fancy mirrored windows but rather with sheets of black paper gaffa-taped to the inside of the windows. As we disembark I’m last to leave, and the unfortunate passenger in front of me has become attached to the gaffa tape with their backpack. This results in said passenger – earphones in, oblivious to what is happening – tearing all the gaffa tape and black paper from all the windows as she exits, dragging a tail of secrecy across the car park. Let’s go home!

Step 10:

There are hundreds of cars in this car park. I think you can guess what happens next. Correct. Queue number six!

Step 11:

I suspect you know what happens next too. Yes, the car park exits out onto a road which joins the main road via a railway crossing and some traffic lights. It’s queue number seven folks!

Given all of the above, it actually seems pretty impressive to get out in two hours.

I’ve hit my word count now, but as it’s early and I’ve already got the title for this entry in my pocket I will step up to the plate and deal with that second sidebar: weapons training.

Actually fuck it, that’ll do for now. Weapons training deserves its own entry anyway.