Glowing stars in the
next morning. Six o’clock. A crowd of girls, boys, women and men- a
hundred people- pressed in a huge white tent. One of the German
wardrobe ladies gave me my guard clothes and a too small black shirt.
With her chilled view and unnerved voice, like the days before, I had
to fight for well fitting clothes again.
On the
first morning, when I brought some own black "rebel" clothes and
accessories, a Hollywood-enamoured-with-himself wardrobe man watched me
with disbelieve, that someone else could have their own idea- but then
he liked it, instead of the tasteless rags of their stuff. During which
a not-in-charge lady beside him watched me with a hateful view: A silly
and really unimportant extra has ONLY to take and act orders without
any explanation.
So began the third day. But I was so
happy to take part again- in my guard dress, bullet proof and armed
with a plastic pistol then with a machine pistol during shooting (an
old one from the Federal Border Guard). Our job was: Standing on the
top of the stairs, behind our black masks and black helmets. I felt
great, I felt stronger and invulnerable with those clothes.
East entrance in the
early morn, cam and directors on left tower,
set camp on parking
place (click to
view)
East same entrance in 1936- visitors of
the olympic games opening ceremony
before a stairs
shooting scene, with briefcase- our caretaker (click to view)
A full dressed
guard (click to view)
My blond
partner on the stairs, became my friend during these two days. We
hadn’t served our army duty time. Instead, in Germany, you have to
complete a civil service for 15 months (now less) in hospital, church
or anywhere, after you have written a justified refusal of why you
don’t want to learn to kill anybody.
So now, we
really enjoyed, loved and
lived our part- without any stupid duty. And whenever the film team
prepared a new take or during lunch or any break, we played the evil
guys with these "paralysed people" and took picture stories. I don’t
wonder anymore why those dressed as police guys are so much more
aggressive than other ones- the dress, this non-touchable tank suit,
changes you into a fighting machine. Or can, if you forget yourself.
arrest of a suspected
caretaker-1 (click to view)
arrest of a suspected
caretaker-2 (click to view)
arrest of a suspected
caretaker-3 (click to view)
my partner during
lunch (click to view)
That boy,
Vladimir, on the truck must have had a special experience. Behind the
machine gun, upon that white-sprayed foam-cannon, he seemed to have an
attractive job. Until he climbed down completely shattered- after hours
of being enveloped in clouds of exhaust.
Beside
this, it was- for all, I guess-
a hard day standing and waiting for the next shooting. And there was a
familiar mood on set, my girlfriend, who took part, told me. All
equally dressed, burghers and the group of guards.
Colonade scene,
watching- our suspected cleric, through the tunnel- stadium rebuilding
(click to view)
we arrest a suspected
cleric (click to view)
Christian
Bale had some swart fight exercises in a tent beside the stadium
forecourt with his partner during brakes. On set, he was that quiet
Preston, like the days before.
The next
set locations were the bell tower of the stadium, a new bike stadium
and the old airport Tempelhof.
And here
I can add something from the
"Underground set" about the actors…
You know,
C.Bale wasn’t by himself the whole time in that oven room…sometimes the
directors, several crew members were with him, silently talking. But
when I saw him alone, there was that kind of aura. One could feel and
see- he lives Preston (whom I didn’t know). Without diversion. And this
aura he gave to his environment as a presence, set it alight. There was
a great atmosphere of respect, sensitivity for the actors down there.
Intensive. That was really impressive. W. Fichtner treated us very
gently. So we extras were not only ordered to "do this or that" but to
be involved (as his people). In a low voice talking, you could sense
that you had to be sensitive with that room he gave us within his
concentration. Then again, he went off to prepare himself…
…and from
Klaus Kinski`s (died in San Francisco 1992) first book "I’m so wild
about your strawberry mouth" an extract about his early, intensive
acting: (…) I have solved the secret. You have to get very quiet and
subordinate to the situation of the scene, to take the surroundings,
persons in, have second thoughts where you are. The script then comes
all by itself. And the sense of the script decides the emotion of your
soul. The rest attends the life, which you have to live, without taking
care of. (…) That takes of course boundless phantasy, which you, when
it begins to unfold, have to cut against all outer influences, in order
not to confuse it. That demands of its price. You get so over
sensitive, that you cannot live under normal circumstances at all any
more. Therefore the hours between the performances are the worst. Or
you have that murderously bad luck, to come by a theatre or partner,
who destroys this tissue, from which arises the biggest power of the
actor, by their coarseness. Then one becomes either the victim or
defends oneself vigorously. In both cases one suffers like a swine.
