Playing small movie roles quite a thrill

"Rain Man" was on television last week. Wasn't it fun to see the older Caesars Palace? And it's a terrific movie. I recognized some of our local actors working, always a good thing. But there is, sadly, another lost cause. Movies are still done here (no Hollywood set of Las Vegas ever looks real to me), but they don't hire local actors anymore. Just extras. And, they always tell the local production people they don't want anyone over 40 on the set.

Now, when Charlene Goldman (Judge Paul Goldman's wife) ran the movie industry here in the late '70s and '80s, the production companies did hire local actors. Me, for instance. Charlene had worked for Aaron Spelling in Los Angeles and knew the industry very well. She did everything -- locations, casting, wardrobe -- you name it. When and if the movie was too big to handle all that by herself, she hired Maggie Mancuso to assist her. Margaret Ann Peterson, Maggie, was Andy Griffith's girlfriend, one of the darlings on "The Andy Griffith Show." If the project was even bigger, Charlene called in Jody Sloat (may she rest in peace). If the two of them were not enough, she called me in. I usually checked in extras, lots of paperwork there. I had listed myself with her agency as an actress, so she found out I had worked as a dancer on all those old '50s musicals and TV shows, and had also done parts on "77 Sunset Strip" and others. When "Going In Style," starring George Burns, came to town in 1979, I read for a part and got it, so Charlene knew I was a professional. Movie sets have very strict rules and customs, and nobody tells you what they are, you just have to know from experience.

For instance, if you're on time, you're late.

In 1981, "Looking To Get Out," directed by Hal Ashby and starring Jon Voight, came to town and had a huge scene to be done in the Stardust showroom with Siegfried & Roy. I got a tiny role.

Siegfried & Roy had the tigers out running on the circular runway in the audience for the scene. They always had done that, every night during their regular show, no problem. But without huge movie lights on stilts, focused on the runway, shining in their eyes. One of the tigers was spooked and jumped off the runway out into the audience of extras. It was incredibly sudden and incredibly scary.

Roy yelled the one word that would control the situation: What do you think that would be? He yelled "Freeze!" Three-hundred people did so.

Terrified people will do what they are told. I was a good 40 feet away from the animal, but others could have reached out and touched it. All holding our breath, we watched Roy slowly, softly approach the tiger, talking to it calmly and steadily.

Meanwhile, four men dressed in black and holding chains with locks, very quietly stalked up behind the tiger. When Roy reached the big cat and grasped its collar, they pounced, in an obviously rehearsed move, to chain and secure, two on each side pulling opposite each other to completely control the poor, scared animal. One of the assistant directors quickly said, "Lunch." And we all filed out, glad to be alive, about half in shock.

After lunch, the same shot had to be done, only the extras sitting at the table right under the runway where the tiger jumped off refused to sit there. Charlene calmly said, "No problem, I'll sit there," and did so, shaming others to join her and finish the scene. What a day.

Still a legend in the biz, it's called, "The day the tiger got loose."

Even more fun was 1982's "Starman," with John Carpenter directing and Jeff Bridges starring. It was a very big deal, and they planned to hire several local actors. I read for and got the role of the truck-stop waitress -- the second one, not to be confused with the first waitress in the scene, where the Starman revived the dead deer. Every actress in town tried for the role. I was working a high heels-and-suit job at the time, in the convention industry. My second callback was at the Tropicana. I brought a suitcase to work that day, loaded with my waitress outfit -- a blue-and-white-check cotton dress from Kmart, a plain white apron, a man's brown dowdy sweater and beat-up brown loafers. At the Trop, I went into the ladies room and put it all on, wiping off my bright red lipstick and messing up my chic hair. Charlene said to the Hollywood casting director, "I see Betty is in her method actress mode." I got the role to be shot a week away.

In the meantime, Charlene had to cast and set up a huge Interstate 15 highway scene. She got Gov. (Richard) Bryan to have the Nevada Highway Patrol close I-15 for a one-mile stretch out between Boulder City and Hoover Dam or thereabouts.

She gave me the job of calling and handling 50 members of the Nevada National Guard. Charlene got the list of guardsmen, somehow. I called them all to book them, then had to call them back about what uniform they were to wear, then called again about where to meet me.

Three days before the highway shoot, Charlene called me and said, "You have to work the shot. I want you to bring your husband, your two sons, your Blazer pulling your boat, with bicycles tied on top, along with several pieces of luggage and your dog Queenie on a leash. It will pay lots because everything will be paid for, including the suitcases and the dog."

I said, "Charlene, I can't work the shot. What if the director or one of his assistants sees me? They'll take away my part!"

That's called established, and is a no-no.

"So, wear a wig with a scarf over it, big dark glasses, a big heavy jacket with a pulled-up collar and stay away from the assistants and the camera," she said. "I need you, and you have to be there anyway to check in the National Guard."

Charlene was not a person to whom you said no.

Late in the afternoon, the assistant directors called everyone over to line each side of the highway. Wouldn't you know, they placed Jeff Bridges in character not 30 feet away from me. To my horror, I realized it was to be a three-camera shot with one camera on a boom moving overhead. This shot turned into one of my best acting gigs ever. How to keep your face out of all three cameras was a worthy challenge, to be sure. We rehearsed the shot once and I spotted my best friends Jody and Maggie standing out of range dying with laughter and enjoying my creative choreography and long face.

As camera one focused on Jeff Bridges and those of us close to him, I searched through my purse -- head down, of course --looking for a Kleenex, turning slightly away, back to the wind. As camera two focused on the National Guard running up the highway past me, I had to blow my nose with a handful of Kleenex hiding my face. As camera three swung overhead, I accidentally dropped my purse and had to turn away and half squat to retrieve it. It was masterful, if I do say so myself. Whew!

The next week, I was flown in a private jet carrying other personnel from Las Vegas down to Holbrook, Ariz., for my big scene with Karen Allen. I was escorted in a Teamsters sedan to the set to my own private dressing room with my name on the door. I got dressed immediately and went early to the set inside a real truck-stop diner so I could get my bearings.

Suddenly, Miss Allen was on the set, and an assistant director introduced me to her. John Carpenter came over to me, smiled and asked, how was the flight, was I feeling OK, any questions? If not, then, let's rehearse it. We did the scene. He said that's fine, let's shoot it. We did so. He said let's do it again. I asked if there was anything he wanted changed. He said no, that was perfect, just do it that way again. We did it six times, same question from me and same answer from him every time.

Then he came over to me and said, "Thank you. You were perfect. You're wrapped."

There is always this terrible let-down feeling after a day like that. I drove home, stopped at Safeway and made dinner for my family. A neighbor from across the street waved.

Don't these people know who I am?

Betty Bunch is a former dancer. Today, she works with the national Elderhostel Association. Contact her at bettybunch100@gmail.com.