Written by Leslie Wolcott
Saturday morning, Aug. 11, I gingerly parked my car on a muddy farm field in Williamston, ready to play my small part in an epic battle of supernatural forest beings.
At 7:30 a.m., I was the last extra to arrive on the set of "The Ice Shield of Aletheia," an independent fantasy film by director Stephen Allison.
Allison, originally from Williamston, is a student at Biola University in southern California, now filming his senior project, which he hopes will be a major release someday.
Action films, with their expensive sequences and props, are unusual in the independent film world. To stretch his meager $50,000 budget, Allison brought the production to his hometown, where fantasy armies are much cheaper to raise than they are in Hollywood.
Three dryads (or extras) learn to shoot their bows and arrows on the set of "The Ice Shield of Aletheia." (Leslie Wolcott/City Pulse)
I groggily found the costume tent. A costume designer asked if I wanted to be a dryad (a forest nymph).
I told her I had no idea. She took that as a yes.
As she shrouded me in a green, beaded dress, the costume designers explained that they had to make the costumes without knowing who would wear them. That seemed fitting, since I also had no idea that I would be fighting for the protection of my forest community in the make-believe world of Aletheia.
Allison's primary recruiting tools were a notice on MySpace and articles in the local press.
Besides drafting locals like me as foot soldiers, Allison brought several friends from L.A. to manage the production. He hopes the film will be picked up by a major distributor, but it may also go to small film festivals for release.
Allison said that extras and the community in general were more friendly toward movie production here in Williamston than in southern California. Only a few principal actors were paid, and most of the movie’s budget went toward equipment. Tiren Jhames, who plays a wizard, said that Michigan’s depressed economy makes working tough for local actors like himself, and he seemed happy to lead the warrior-extras in battle.
Allison had expected up to 1,000 extras, but only about 60 people were in costume on the set. Later, the director would pump our small party into a mob by filming us from various camera angles as we ran in different directions. Look closely in the finished film and you may find each extra in three or four different sectors of the battle.
Volunteer actress-turned-makeup-artist Kate Cebuhar waited for me at the other end of the costume tent. She covered my face in powder, explaining that my sweat would gradually turn it into foundation. She sent me to the set, warning me not to touch my makeup.
We were shooting the climax of the film, when the Queen of the Dryads would lead us all out of the woods to join the battle. As forest nymphs, the cameraman told us, we are not usually warriors, nor do we often leave our trees. He instructed us to look stoic, unsmiling, and a bit uncomfortable. That, at least, came naturally.
After the first take of the dryads walking through the woods, the crew had us all stop and observe the smooth walk of Deedee Lowe, who played the queen. I lost count of the takes at about 10, and we kept shooting for another 20 minutes. I really hadn’t expected this many takes. I kept pointing my bow the wrong way — at my own foot. “Come on! You’re supposed to be at one with nature!” heckled the crew. I may not have been at one with nature, but I got close enough. Looking straight ahead as told, I tripped into a variety of obstacles, not noticing a long stick stuck to the rear of my costume. Finally, the crew assured us we were a convincing army of battle-ready forest nymphs, worthy of joining other battling extras in a few scenes.
Back on the main field, more extras donned chain mail and helmets as the crew got ready to shoot another charge. To stoke the fires of battle, Allison rode alongside the extras in a car, yelling through a megaphone about murdered puppies, Saddam Hussein, and Hitler. The extras charged so enthusiastically that they didn’t hear Allison’s “Cut!” and ran the entire length of the farm field before stopping.
Many extras, it seemed, were here to escape their everyday lives, whether it was high school or a day job. They were here to inhabit a fantasy world where sparring with “doubles”— two matching swords per fighter — was the norm, and not knowing how to remove chain mail was the exception.
Realizing that I was part of the exception, I decided to call it a day. I removed my dryad dress and immediately felt cool and refreshed — at one with nature, you might say.
I thanked the costume crew and headed back to my car, which looked about as out of place in the hayfield as I felt in the world of Aletheia.
On my way out, I overheard one extra, a young boy, yell to his parents “I wanna keep this sword!” Most of the extras were in battle heaven. Soon it was time for another take, and the sword enthusiast called out, “Bye mom! Gotta get back to Hollywood!”
