LOST Tales of an Extra: The Jacket or Why Victoria Hamel is a Goddess

A WORD ON NAMES

I have a confession to make. Except for Sherry, Dawn, Shawn, Tiffany and the actors on set, I've made up all the rest of the names on my posts. I should say it's to protect people's privacy, but the truth is I simply can't remember them. Instead of keeping them anonymous, I've chosen names I think represent them accurately or ones that MIGHT be their names.



However, I can't for the life of me remember the name of the guy who took this picture of me in The Jacket! I can't even think of a good substitute name! So from now on, this very kind person will be referred to as The Photographer.

BEHOLD THE JACKET

Does this jacket scream Beverly Hills Doctor's Wife to you? No?

That's what I said! Actually, I said "EWWWW!" when the 300 pound woman at wardrobe pulled it out. I quickly retracted [because she glared at me, and she was flipping scary] and blamed my outburst on lack of sleep and the early hour. I got the impression that not too many people crossed her on a regular basis and lived to tell about it. I apologized, thanked her profusely and skittered off to the hair line.

While I waited (and scratched Lulu's ears), I wondered why on Earth anyone choosing wardrobe for the day would choose to throw The Jacket into the truck. How did that decision past muster on any standard scale?

And why me? Before I donned The Jacket, I looked kinda like a Beverly Hills Doctor's Wife, or at least a Beverly Hills Doctor's Not So Cheap Girlfriend On The Side. In fact, I thought I looked well enough to pass for Beverly Hills Doctor's Adult Daughter Who Still Uses Daddy's Money To Go Shopping.

However, wardrobe took one look at me and pulled out the one garment (out of hundreds) that made me look 1) older, 2) fatter, 3) shorter, 4) dumpier and 5) like a homeless librarian.

All I had to go on to explain this phenomenon were the words of the beautiful (obviously unavailable) man from wardrobe who helped me put it on. He assured me The Jacket was "texture." From his tone I gathered this type of thing was an unfortunate but necessary aspect of filming. He suggested that'd I'd be grateful for The Jacket in the end because, I'd be "easy to spot" when the show aired.

Easy to spot, I thought, Sure. As in: "Awww, look -- she must have been Jack's deranged piano teacher!"

To my dismay, the stylist in the hair trailer took one look at The Jacket and chose to "match" my hair to "complete the look." I didn't bother protesting, but my eyes were wide in the mirror as my semi-punk, asymmetrical bob was shellacked into a little brown football helmet, and the barrette I'd used to hide my unlikely blonde streak was tucked behind my ear, old-lady style.

Don't get me wrong. I didn't care what I was wearing. I'd've worn a chicken suit as long as I could be on set. And I was a potted plant, remember, so it wasn't my problem if I looked bad or weird on camera. Someone else's ass was on the line, not mine.

I just didn't get it. No one else got it either. In fact, The Jacket stirred up some resentment among those extras who were asked by wardrobe to change out of what they were wearing and into what they were given. Each time we were switched around and I was able to chat with a new group of people, the response was the same.

They assumed that I'd brought The Jacket from home because, obviously something so ridiculous couldn't have come from wardrobe. They were either mildly amused and wondered where I'd dug it up and why I chose to wear it, OR they were MAD because, and I quote: "Why did they make me change out of my nice outfit into these cheesy clothes but let you get away with wearing that jacket?!"

THE PHOTOGRAPHER

The mystery of The Jacket is how I met The Photographer (the gentlemen pictured here on the far left).

Near the end of the day, someone from the church opened up access to an internal bathroom. This was wonderful because it gave us access to an adjacent room with chairs, a table and, most importantly, air conditioning! The Photographer was sitting with a few extras when I passed through, and they begged me to tell him the story of The Jacket.

At first, he was unsure why I was "complaining" about it. What difference did it make if I was barely on camera? I told him, look, I'm actually thrilled I got to wear it because it's made the day more fun for me, but I'm still at a loss to explain it. I pointed out the cloth flower pinned to the left shoulder Sex in the City style, circa 1998. I shook my head violently, and not one hair on my head moved. WTF?

After much laughing, he had to concede my point. In his 4 years as an extra, he'd never seen anything like it. The Jacket would remain a mystery.

I bumped into The Photographer again at the very end of the day after we were shipped back to base camp. He graciously took a picture of me while we were in line to finish our paperwork (to get paid). That's when I realized he was a PROFESSIONAL photographer (which is why the picture looks so good). Naturally I brought up my Algae Abstracts and how disappointed I was I couldn't photograph the church windows. He was very kind and told me he'd love to see some of my pictures.

The thought of (a very cute) someone who knew his stuff looking over my pictures and then trying to offer both helpful criticism AND be nice to me caused me to -- you guessed it! -- Dork Out. I launched into this stream-of-consciousness babble about how I was really, most likely, not any good, and I didn't know an f-stop from a streetlight, and he'd probably throw up or laugh if he saw any of them. He, again, continued to be very nice and told me to put up a website and "get your pictures out there," and to be sure and let him know when I did because he'd be happy to look at them.

I managed to lose his card within seconds. [Sherry is still mad at me about that!]

Oh well.

WHY I LOVE "JACK'S MOM"

Shawn (pictured here), Sherry and I were among the last few extras on set at the end of the day. We were background for the scene where Jack's mom leaves the church and Claire's mom talks to Jack.

Our part was at the beginning. We were to walk past the church door right before Jack's Mom, "Margo Shephard," hugs Jack and exits the church. Then we were to wait at the bottom of the stairs with Margo until someone yelled "Back to One" to reset us.

Sherry was all excited about this because Margo is played by Victoria Hamel. "You know," she said, "Victoria Hamel! From Hill Street Blues!" I'd heard of the show (but never seen it), and Ms. Hamel looked familiar to me, but I had to look her up on IMdb pro that night to figure out why Sherry was so impressed.

Victoria Hamel played public defender Joyce Davenport on Hill Street Blues from 1981-1987, earning five Emmy nominations for the role. She also stirred things up quite a bit by PRE-negotiating her contract (and getting exactly what she wanted) even though she was basically unknown at the time.

Although HSB is what's she's primarily known for, Ms. Hamel has been in film, television and on stage for decades. However, two weird items are ALWAYS listed under her name:

1. She starred in the last aired TV commercial for cigarettes (Virginia Slims, 1/1/1971).


2. She discovered FBI surveillance equipment hidden all over Marilyn Monroe's house when she and her (then) husband, Michael Irving, bought and renovated it in 1972. [How cool is THAT?!]

Our interaction with Ms. Hamel was minimal because we were outside during her chat with Mr. Fox, and we were supposed to head down the stairs before she exited. Then, we were to wait with her (in COMPLETE SILENCE) at the base of the stairs while Jack and Kate have their big moment with Claire's mom.

This worked out great because Shawn is hearing impaired, and we both can read lips (him better than me). I was able to keep chatting with him when the camera was rolling (this drove Sherry crazy!). Shawn is married to an intelligence officer in the Air Force stationed here in Hawai'i. He'd been acting for a while, mainly as an extra or featured extra. Like all military spouses, he'd been making do wherever they were stationed, but he was pretty excited because they'd just found out her next duty station would be in California.

When the director finally called action (after a few rehearsal takes), we three walked down the stairs and waited for our signal to reset. But before we did the second take, Victoria Hamel gently told us that she was supposed to go first. Even though Lewis had told us differently, we did what she said (who wouldn't?).

The director called "Action!" Ms. Hamel said her line, exited the church and walked down the stairs.  Sherry followed first with me second and Shawn bringing up the rear. We heard an instantaneous, very annoyed "CUT!" then "Dammit!" Then, a PA VERY high on the food chain came tearing out of the church with his finger jamming at us shouting, "What are you DOING?!" and calling for Lewis.

I thought, well, at least I won't be the only one screamed at this time. There might be safety in numbers!

However, before he could deliver our verbal lashing, Ms. Hamel darted forward and put herself between Big-Wig PA and us! She smiled and said kindly, "Oh no -- that was me. I told them the wrong thing."

Big-Wig PA was so geared up to rip us a new one that it took him a moment to shift out of Complete A-hole mode into the Deferential Respect required to address a television icon. They chatted as Sherry and I traded "Holy Crap!!" looks, and we set up to run the scene again. Shawn said that watching Big-Wig PA sputter like that was way more fun than watching crew members' faces when we mentioned Lewis! I told him I wished I knew how to speak "L.A." because I was pretty sure that we missed some interesting subtext in there somewhere.

The next time we ran the scene, Ms. Hamel chatted with us at the base of the stairs. She apologized to us for the mix up.  Sherry told her how much we appreciated it, especially since I had already been seriously screamed at earlier in the day. Ms. Hamel patted my arm, tsked-tsked in the nicest way and asked me if I'd had a good time the rest of the day on set.

Now, usually, I'm quite savvy at conversations like this (cough). However, I was momentarily stunned because VICTORIA HAMEL IS GORGEOUS! I don't mean pretty. I mean ABSOLUTELY BEAUTIFUL. I don't know what they're doing when they film LOST, but her T.V. image doesn't come CLOSE to doing her justice!

[Sure, girlfriend's had some work done, but it's really GOOD work, see? You couldn't tell she'd had work unless you already knew how long she'd been in the business.]

As I stood next to her, a puff of wind hit us and a few strands of her hair got stuck in her lip gloss. Without thinking (obviously), I used my pinkie finger to carefully pull them off and said, "You are gorgeous, aren't you?"

Like a BIG, FAT DORK.

She looked at me, a bit puzzled, until she realized I was sincere (and probably retarded). Then she "aw shucks"-ed the moment. She waved her hand and said, "It's makeup and wardrobe. They always make you look better." Sherry chirped up that I didn't appreciate wardrobe much today since they made me wear The Jacket. Ms. Hamel made to protest but then took a good look at it. She touched the sleeve and said, "My. That jacket is. . .interesting."

Then she said, "Well don't worry dear. It's texture."

THE END