Title: Leatherheads, feature film
Cast: George Clooney, Renee Zellweger
Extra: Joel Kweskin
Producers: Grant Heslov, George Clooney, Casey Silver
Director: George Clooney
Script: George Clooney, Stephen Schiff, Duncan Brantley, Rick Reilly
The Charlotte-scheduled shoot
of George Clooney’s “Leatherheads”
By Joel Kweskin
Introduction
I had first answered the “cattle call” in the newspaper for extras wanted in the Charlotte segment shooting of a new movie called “Leatherheads” starring and co-written and directed by George Clooney.
Got the phone call one early evening a few days later by a member of the movie crew to report up to Statesville. That’s where “wardrobe” was being housed in an old warehouse just west of town. “Wardrobe,” I was told, because this was a period piece – 1925 – and I was actually getting – his word, not mine – a “featured” part in the film.
“Are you kidding me?” I thought. I was being assigned the role of one of three “Chicago football coaches” in this romantic comedy set against the backdrop of the early days of professional football. (I can only surmise they looked at my mug shot and size as listed on the sheet we would-be thespians filled out, and saw I might have looked like I once played the game and was of an age where coaching was a distinct possibility.)
Clooney and John Krasinski (of “The Office”) are rival players and romantic rivals for the affections of Renee Zellweger. While at the Statesville warehouse, I was fitted for a vintage (!) suit, suspenders, bow tie, overcoat, scarf and fedora. I was also sent to “hair styling” where my hair was cut and fashioned into the look of an adult male from the era, slicked-down top and sides buzzed.
Since this was to be 1925 Chicago, I might have even commanded the respect of Al Capone. We were also given instruction sheets on where to go in Charlotte for the shoot (Memorial Stadium Uptown) along with what to do (respect the actors’ right to privacy) and what not to do (don’t ask for their autographs. Or take their pictures. Or wear cologne. Huh? – that’s so you don’t offend anyone nearby who may be allergic, while maintaining the life of the vintage clothing we were to wear.
Day One:
Awoke at 4:30, showered, shaved and had a quick bite before arriving at the parking lot along Brevard and 11th Streets, from where the extras would be shuttled by bus to the “holding area” just outside the stadium – Grady Cole Center. On the grounds of the stadium, where vendor and administrative parking usually resides, huge tents have taken over.
After filling out paperwork for payroll, we were instructed to go to the wardrobe tent. I have an assigned number that corresponds to a small space on a long rack where my clothing is hanging, fitted to meet my measurements. “Fitted” except for the pants that are way too high. But I am reluctant to complain. After all, what am I – some kind of prima donna (what’s the male equivalent, prima don?)? I find I need help from an English-accented woman to tie my bow tie. Then I’m led to the hair and makeup tent, where I sit and face the mirror as a stylist greases down my hair with Brylcreem and then parts it on the side opposite the way I’ve done it for virtually all my life.
I am then sent inside the stadium where I take my position along the sidelines of the “Chicago” team bench. For this week of shooting the movie, Charlotte is now Chicago. I meet two other gentlemen, also in appropriate period attire, Ron from Greenville who is the “head coach” and James, from Wadesboro, who is my fellow assistant coach. Both of them, successful businessmen and a few years my senior, have a great enthusiasm for this “extra” stuff, having done it before. We strike up a nice rapport that will last over the next several days. Meanwhile, standing near us out on the field is co-star John Krasinski, who plays for “us.” He is positioned to sprint onto the field to take part in the coin toss before the “big game” with George Clooney, representing the other team, the Duluth Bulldogs. Before he runs out on what was – I lost count – yet another “take” I call out to him, “Win one for ‘The Office.” He turns around, slyly smiles at me and says, “Yeah, right?”
When George is not out on the field speaking lines he himself co-wrote, he is behind the camera as director, checking out the scene just filmed or conferring with assistants. And goodness knows there are plenty of them around. Camera people, props people, gofer-type people. At around 1 p.m., we break for lunch, and head for the Grady Cole Center, just off the premises.
The old gymnasium--convention hall--entertainment venue is now staged with long tables, set up mess hall-style, with cafeteria-type buffet stations serving hot food off to the side of the room.
After lunch, we wait at the places we’ve staked out for ourselves. Wait for the call to go back out onto the field. Ballplayers (former college and high school players recruited for the roles), vendors, the press (wearing the old fedoras with a card in the band saying, what else, “Press”), police officers, marching band players, cheerleaders and, of course, fans. We “background,” as we’re referred to by the assistant directors, wait, and read our newspapers, books, knit woolen scarves, listen to CDs, the radio, or simply engage in neighborly banter. But on this day, there will be no more shooting.
Day 2
Had breakfast – eggs, potatoes, sausage and coffee – and reported to the field where the entire Chicago contingent of coaches, players, manager, trainer and cheerleaders were sent to the inside portion of the entrance leading back onto the field. The scene being set up is our entrance onto our home field in front of the hometown Chicago fans, where we will play a crucial game against the Duluth Bulldogs.
Our team, the Buffalos, is in gray tops and leggings, with faded orange knicker-pants. The Duluth team is in similar colored pants, but with royal blue tops and leggings. As we take our huddled places in this tight portico area that leads back outside the stadium, a familiar voice starts addressing us as it approaches from the field towards this holding area. It’s G.C., dressed in Duluth regalia and “leatherhead” (the form-fitting helmet somewhat reminiscent of what the old time aviators used to wear). He’s now among us, and then briefly peers towards our back asking if “Johnny (Krasinski) is there?” He is, and now he proceeds to exhort us into giving a proud, defiant look as we stride into the stadium, waving to the 90,000 fans on hand. There are really only a couple of hundred, but “CGI,” the computerized wizardry that can transform the few into the many (a la “Gladiator,” “300” and a host of other epics), will do the trick later.
In the meantime, George reminds us, “But no high-fives. Remember, there were no high-fives in 1925,” he smiles. George Clooney is relatively short for a leading man; around 5’9.” He is unmistakable, even under a helmet. But if he weren’t “George Clooney,” you might think well there goes a good looking guy, but nothing to make a woman swoon. But then again, what do I know, not being of the distaff side. He has lost a lot of weight, it seems; he certainly looks much thinner than he has in his recent films, most notably “Syriana” where he actually gained weight and a beard.
At the shout of “Action!’ from one of the assistant directors, we stride out onto the field like something out of the triumphal march in “Aida.” The cameras are directly in front of us, so I would think there’s a good chance for “face time” on the big screen. We continue to our place on the sidelines. We also repeat this maybe four or five times, before we finally hear, “Cut! That’s a wrap!”
Back in Grady Cole, it’s lunch again. And baked chicken, fish, pork loin, vegetables, salad and fruit, coffee and cake again. Barely finishing my carrot cake, the Chicago team is called back onto the field. Which has been watered down to get it good and muddy. This is a key apparently weather-related element to the game story. For this sequence, our players are doing calisthenics along the sidelines in preparation for the game. The camera is on a dolly, a rolling track that smoothly follows the action from right to left.
We coaches are pounding the turf, rah-rahing them along, and I appear to be notably in the action as I’m pretty much paralleling the dolly-ensconced camera reviewing our troops. Once the game action begins, we see John in the role of our ace player, Carter, catching kickoffs. And it’s John and not a stunt double doing the actual receiving and running back the return down the sideline. G.C., now back to being actor-star, is manning a backfield position and it is he who tackles John. In the mud. When you’re a multimillion-dollar international film star, it shouldn’t bother you to occasionally get dirty.
Day 3
Ringing the inside of the stadium, billboards reflect the era, contrived to feature Krasinski’s sports hero. There are pictures of him endorsing razor blades, hair tonic, cigarettes and other actual (by name) popular products.
More action in the mud today. This is literally hog heaven. The players are clearly having fun throwing each other down to the mud and sloshing about trying to run patterns. These guys are, after all, still in their 20’s. They’re like wolf puppies in one of those National Geographic shows.
There is a tense moment along the sidelines, though, when one of the players comes up from behind and throws icy water at another one, prompting the soaked recipient to counter with angry remarks. The perpetrator, probably more out of pride-deflated embarrassment, continues the exchange to the point where it looks like things might get physical. I had initially thought of secreting some kind of message to Page 2 of The Observer. “Fight Almost Breaks Out on ‘Leatherheads’ Set,” I can now see the headline. But then the fracas dies down about as quickly as it began. Presumably before the “Boss” finds out…
Day 4
Sitting in Grady Cole for most of the morning, reading the newspaper, then the latest Esquire magazine I brought along. We coaches are asked to join the extras in the stands as fans to help fill seats. The ADs want us to stand, cheer, clap, boo, rustle about. Sometimes, though, they want us to mime the action, presumably to allow for enhanced sound dubbing later in the studio.
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After a while, the coach roles are asked to return to the sidelines for more game action. While waiting for our sequence to begin, however, we’re all asked to stay quiet since another scene is being filmed on the other side of the stadium up above in the press box. “There’s Renee,” someone points out. Renee Zellwrger is in a predominantly red outfit, so she stands out from everyone surrounding her. But it’s tough to see anything at that distance, and she’s petite to begin with (from what I hear anyway, since this is as close as we will be getting to the movie’s leading lady) although we hear her scream with delight at what she has apparently witnessed down on the field. This scene is repeated several times; one assumes she has plenty of throat lozenges with her.
Day 5
More football game scenes. More mud. More restless young players slinging mud pies at each other, and sprawling in the gook at the direction of the assistant directors to get that in the trenches look for the climactic play of the game. At one point, at a scene break, one of the ADs saunters over to us coaches and tells us that too many of us were pointing to an area where one of our players falls to some kind of injury and is carted off the field in a stretcher. Some people might take that as polite chiding. I take it as a sign that, as backdrop to the action on the field, the camera has sufficiently caught us in the act of doing something. Anything. I take that as a good sign of possibly more “face time.”
Day 6
By the way, it’s hot out on the field. We’re dressed in business suits, ties, overcoats, scarves and gloves for football weather. But it’s April and 84 degrees out. Today is Monday; we had the weekend off and we’re repeating scenes from Friday either to get different angles or simply better performances out on the field. More water hosed onto the field to bring it back to the muddy setting integral to the game’s storyline.
One additional sequence may qualify for further “face time:” One of our players is called off the bench into the game and the direction is for our head coach (Ron) to send him out to the field with a hardy pat on the back and enthusiastic push. Since I am standing to the other side of the player, I have to think the camera has captured all three of us. Hmmm, maybe just my shoulder and arm?
After lunch, it’s back onto the field, this time to film the dramatic finish. Duluth throws a long pass into the end zone but it appears one of our defenders has picked it off. Since this is their last, desperation play, with time running out and Chicago holding a 3-0 lead, it looks as if we’ve held on to win. The coaches and bench scramble into the end zone to cheer wildly.
A player finally emerges from the muddied bodies holding the ball. Two of our players rush in with buckets of water for a celebratory dousing of the receiver. Once the water hits, however, the mud is dispersed and the player is revealed to be -- G.C. of the Duluth team! We do the scene once, then again, but this time the water hits G.C. below the belt. Everybody laughs, and that’s when we see the famous Clooney smile.
Day 7
An extra day has been added, so we re-film the scene in the end zone but this time from different angles including one where George and four other players are laying together in a heap on the ground.
The scene is shot this time from atop a ladder looking down. While other camera angles are being set up for subsequent scenes, George takes time to toss a football along the sideline where a handful of us are standing and waiting for our next cue.
Loosely apropos, I boldly decide to call out to him with a useless question that stemmed from the knowledge he had once tried out as a baseball player with the Cincinnati Reds (he grew up across the river in nearby Kentucky): “George, when you tried out with Cincinnati, were you infield or outfield?” “Outfield,” he replied, “But badly!” Some other guy then walked over and, apparently seeing it was “safe” to address the Boss, then calls out to him: “Hey, George – didja hear the one about the Chinese so-and-so, blah-blah-blah.” George politely grunts a laugh, and the clown counters with “I heard ya like jokes…” At that point, feeling my own embarrassment, I turned to Ron and said “Well, that just set Charlotte back 20 years…”
We eventually returned to the end zone and began filming a new sequence, this time with George coming out to greet John in midfield while the rest of us Chicagoans look on dejectedly at what has just transpired. Beneath my character’s disappointment, however, was the happy possibility that the position I had taken on the field was in direct line behind George and the camera whenever it faced him during his dialogue with John. And we did that scene several times. Finally, the day’s shoot was over, along with the production’s stint in Charlotte.
George walked over to the hundred or so folks in the stands at this point and addressed them with his thanks for their support and taking direction as well as they had. He then called our team together and said, “Let’s take a picture.” The players, coaches, cheerleaders and assorted personnel surrounded him as we all smiled for the picture taken by some woman with a conventional 35-millimeter camera. Immediately afterwards, I went up to another assistant and asked if we could get copies of the picture. “Oh no,” she said, “these are publicity stills for the PR package going out to the media.” Great, I thought.
I could actually say I had acted with, taken direction from and spoken to George Clooney. But a lousy photo was beyond their ability to satisfy. So, instead, I’ll just have to go with some great memories. And the anxiety that will build towards December 7th (since moved to April 4, 2008) when “Leatherheads” is scheduled to hit the big screen nationwide. Of course, if the movie tanks and I’m left on the cutting room floor, as well, that will be a date that will further live in infamy.
But maybe, just maybe, I’ll have become part of celluloid history, instead.
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