I'm at my childhood home in Indiana, and we have a white Christmas this year. This doesn't happen nearly as often as a lot of people in New York seem to think it does ("Don't you always have a white Christmas there?" people ask me when the subject of going home for Christmas comes up around those native New Yorkers whose view of the Midwest is largely shaped by Hallmark Christmas movies.) When it does happen, I always announce that I love it. My dad disagrees. This is largely because we have a very long, hilly driveway that made summers playing in the front yard blissfully free and private but makes shoveling snow hellish. For me, though, I still see the lawn and driveway through the eyes of a child. The snow smooths everything over, erasing the moss between the bricks on the pathway to the front door, the plethora of patched cracks in the driveway's asphalt, and the sad little half-bush that's all that remains of the once healthy and robust plant at the base of our now netless, sunbleached basketball hoop.... In their place is a glistening, soft, bright cover that blurs all the harsh edges and hints at magic and fun to be had, of a fresh start and new tracks to be made. Children come out to sled and make snowmen, laughter can be heard up and down the street, and everyone seems a little happier, a little gentler, a little more prone to small acts of kindness. I love small acts of kindness.
So today I'm going to share a couple of my favorite small acts of kindness from this past year. I spent several months at the beginning of the year as core background on a large film. Every morning at work I spent at least an hour in hair and makeup, as did the other background ladies. Then when we got on set, there was a team of hair and makeup artists specifically dedicated to retouching the background actors between takes. Another team of hair and makeup artists were dedicated to the principal actors, while, as is usual on a film this size, the film had one man who was dedicated exclusively to retouching the A-list movie star at the helm of this film and making sure he never had a hair out of place, no matter how many takes he did or how much he ran around or what the wind was doing. Most of the time, when I see movie stars get retouched between every take, it gets to be such a routine act for them that they cease to acknowledge the crew member doing the retouching. They'll carry on a conversation with someone else or be lost in their phone, never acknowledging the person dabbing away sweat or combing their hair. That was never true of this actor, who always said "thank you" and was never on his phone. (In fact, when addressing any crew member, he frequently threw in the crew member's name -- something which you only realize is all too rare once you hear someone do it -- and a pat on the arm or back, a habit which charmingly rubbed off on the little girl playing one of his onscreen young daughters.) This actor was always aware of his surroundings, always watching people and fully engaged, never aloof, never treating crew members as if they worked beneath him, even if they were assigned exclusively to him.
Though most of the film was shot indoors, there were a fair number of days we shot outdoors, in the very cold, very windy final days of winter. On those days, the hair and makeup artists dedicated to the background actors were frequently nowhere to be found for large chunks at a time, wisely electing to stay indoors just off set most of the time rather than freeze as they walked around to check on us. In fact, we background actors were surprised that A-list Movie Star stayed outdoors between takes and shot setups, just hanging out in frigid weather chatting with people when he could easily have sought the warm shelter of either a heating tent or the heated building feet away. But by staying out with us, he kept a hundred background actors (and background actors are notorious complainers) from complaining about the weather. Instead, we were laughing and having fun. If it wasn't a big deal to him, how could it be a big deal to us? At one point, when the camera guys asked the star if he would "mind taking off your coat and standing here so we can see the shot, since you're already out here," he jumped up from his chair with a grin on his face and a twinkle in his eye and, shrugging off his coat, said, "I'd love to! I was getting a bit overheated... Aaaahh, that's better" as a vicious wind blew in his face. Everyone within ear shot laughed, and if it weren't for his attitude and the feeling that he was in this with us, morale on that cold set -- where we were all under-dressed and stuffed with hand warmers and body warmers and feet warmers and as much long underwear as would fit under our costumes -- would probably have plummeted.
Most of the ladies (and by "most" I mean I believe every single lady except for one other and me) had the benefit of wearing a hat on these outdoor days. I wasn't so lucky. And the hairstyle they'd given me had lots of face-framing ringlets. Ringlets look pretty and all, but when the wind is blowing and you're standing outside for hours, hair blows in your eyes and makes your eyes water and you can't keep the hair out of your face and then your eyes get all stingy and red and you keep trying to figure out what the best angle is to stand so that the hair doesn't get into your eyes and you try to hold that position until the last possible second....
I successfully made it through one day like this without too much trouble, but on the second day, the wind was much worse, and I was suffering through stingy eyes and in quite a lot of pain. Not long after A-List Movie Star came on set that day, when I was placed about 20 feet from him, in between takes as I was trying to flip the hair out of my eyes we made eye contact, and I realized he was watching my struggle with a look of concern. I looked away, but I saw him motion to his dedicated stylist to come over to him, and he said something to the stylist. Twenty seconds later, as cameras were rolling and the take was about to start, I felt someone swoosh up behind me and start changing my hairdo. "We saw you struggling over here. This is not a wind-friendly style. I'm just going to fix this," the star's stylist said, quickly and expertly sweeping my ringlets up into a new style. "That should be better," he said with a smile, swooshing off as I said a surprised "thank you" and the take started.
The stylist checked in with me later to make sure it was working for me. It was. I had no more hair in my eyes, no more stinging, no more moments of blindness where I had to shut my eyes and try to toss the hair away.
It was a small kindness to send his personal stylist over to fix my hair, but it made all the difference for me that day (and the days going forward, since the look without face-framing ringlets was now established on camera). It was small but meaningful, it was unexpected, and it was done knowing he'd never hear a thanks from me. And that's my favorite kind of small kindness. That star did similar acts for other people. On one shot with many performers and very complicated blocking, right as the 1st AD shouted, "Rolling!" the star noticed one performer was choking down a cough. She was prepared to go for the shot, and she was far too "unimportant" on set to hold up the take. She didn't see the star notice her struggling, but as soon as he did, he held up his hand and told the director he needed a moment, making some business until he saw she was good to go, at which point he told the director he was good. No one knew the take had been held for someone else (aside from eyes like mine that see everything). From then on for that shot, he got in the habit of looking at every other performer when the crew announced they were rolling, methodically registering that every other performer was good to go, too, before he got in a position that allowed the take to start. Most people never knew he was doing that, but they felt the effects of his thoughtfulness, whether they knew it or not.
So as the snow comes down and lays the way for new paths and new tracks and new directions, I hope everyone's 2018 is full of small kindnesses, done not to hear a "thank you" but just to make someone's day a little better. Giving and getting those kindnesses makes life a little easier and a little brighter. Happy New Year.
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