The full Irish

   Tom (Sam Corry) Happiness is....

A film crew marches on its stomach. Actually it first marches on its wages and then once it’s sure they’re in the bank, then it marches on its stomach. It also marches on juicy gossip (especially the sort of stuff where people are sleeping with people they shouldn’t be.) It marches on its experiences of ‘when it was working on “da Bond”’ and it marches on yakking to its fellow crew members about everyone else who works in the film industry who is not standing right beside them right now.

People who work in the film industry are by and large a hardy lot. They need to be – most shoot days take at up least 14 hours of one’s time. A period drama could take at least three hours more and it’s probably safe to say that on something like ‘The Tudors’ members of the make-up, hair and wardrobe departments get about 35 minutes sleep a night (or 15 if you’re a trainee.) So, in that scenario, the only thing that is going to perk you up during your hideously long day of curling curls, replastering eyelashes, taping up hems and ironing mountains of frilly shirts is – grub.

Grub is very important to those of us who work ‘in the game.’

Almost as popular as eating is talking about eating; about what you had for brekkie (a full fry) and what you had for your morning break (tea and loads of biscuits and four of those yummy chocolate marshmallowey things that come in individual wrappers) and what you will have for lunch (steak, chips, onions and gravy) and desert (banoffi with chocolate cake and dollops of cream on the side. Oh and a spoonful of fruit salad to be healthy) and what cheese there is (was there cheese? Shit, I missed the cheese) and what sandwiches are up for the afternoon break and is there a later supper break ‘cos if there is we’d better find out what’s on the menu for that. Before we starve.

Then there’s the catering truck (or ‘chuck wagon’ if you’ve been working in film for longer than two weeks) and which crew member is likely to get to it first when lunch is called. Well, for those of you not in the industry here is the truth about that one. An electrician will always be first in the queue. If he is not it is because some unsuspecting extra has found himself right in the vicinity of the chuck wagon as the hatch is being opened ready for business and is naturally delighted at landing the prime spot up front. This is likely to be his last coherent thought as he is mauled out of the way, possibly tackled to the ground and certainly thrown to the back of the queue where he will definitely miss out on the ‘nice piece of fish’, the sirloin steak, any of the puddings with chocolate and/or custard and will most likely have to put up with the vegetarian option of cheese and broccoli bake.

So, there are quite a lot of chubby people working in the film industry. But we need that extra layer of fat to keep us going especially when we’re on our fourth night-shoot in the middle of Dublin city centre surrounded by drunks and weird people who think they’re interesting by proffering that most popular of questions -  “are youz making a film?” I mean, with all the lights and the cameras and the hairdos and the 20 ft boom poles swinging around wildly and people shouting ‘Action!’ what else could we possibly be doing? I wonder do people ever up to bus drivers and ask them “are you driving a bus?” 

On our film we do not have caterers as it is too expensive and so each day for lunch we go to the nearest restaurant to where we are shooting, This generally works out fine and if there is the odd day where the food is rubbish we can console ourselves that the next day we will be dining elsewhere.

The one drawback is breakfast. No fry, no poached eggs with a couple of rashers on the side and most of all, no sausage sandwich. On day 1 of the shoot, when it becomes apparent that there will be no hot breakfast, there is discontent all around. An unhappy crew is not what you want so a huge effort is made to provide all manner of things like Danish pastries and croissants and apples and cereals and well…lots of cold things.  We mutter to ourselves and get on with it.

And so to day six. It’s two hours into the day and we’re outside for a change. It’s breezy, even a bit chilly but we remember how resilient we are. I find myself immersed with the actors spouting some piece of shite about motivation or intention or some other useless bit of observation but I stop mid-sentence because I get a smell, a smell so tantalising that I must immediately go find it’s source. After several moments wandering around the location I find Alec, our camera car driver. Alec has set himself and his mini grill up in a corner. He has buttered a mound of slices of fresh white bread and like a four-star scout leader is cooking up jumbo sausages.

He hands me a sandwich and then hands one to all of the crew and cast who have downed tools in search of the magical scent. We stand around and munch the fare; warm butter running through our fingers and not a word is spoken.

Apart from those people who were hanging around the Brandenburg gate when the wall toppled I think it’s safe to say that you have never seen a more content lot.