I was an extra in a new Aberdeen movie — here’s what it was like on set at the Blue Lamp

When people talk about the magic of the movies, I doubt they have in mind a deserted Gallowgate in Aberdeen at 6am on a chilly Sunday morning.

But that’s where I find myself, outside the Blue Lamp pub clutching a lukewarm coffee and wondering if I’ve misunderstood my call time for my very first gig as a film extra.

Turns out I have. A quick scan of my emails reveals a note from co-director Marcus Brabban saying to arrive at the Blue Lamp, our location for the day, just before nine. I’m three hours early.

Luckily, the P&J office is just around the corner, so I jump in, make a coffee and give some thought to what exactly I’ve exchanged my Sunday lie-in for..

Some tips for my new Aberdeen acting career

I’ve signed up to be an extra in the debut short film from Plague Dorm, a new Aberdeen production company hoping to turn the Granite City into a small but serious hub for filmmaking.

My role? Background pub punter in a scene where one of the main characters performs a song.

I’ve never been an extra before — or, as they’re known these days, a background artist – so to make sure I don’t ruin the scene by tripping over a boom mic, I call veteran local actor Angela Duguid for advice.

Angela, it turns out, is also in the movie — a sign of how compact Aberdeen’s film scene is.

She’s playing a corrupt cop in what I learn will be a horror movie based on the north-east myth of a female spirit. Angela’s advice is to keep it natural and understated.

“Don’t draw attention to yourself — unless directed otherwise,” she says. “And be ready for a lot of waiting around.”

Chatting, and waiting, as the extras find their feet

I head to the Blue Lamp at the proper time and meet Samana Tiwari, a recent Aberdeen University graduate who’s also going to be an extra. “I thought it would be an interesting way to spend a free Sunday,” she tells me.

We’re soon joined by more extras including Kristina Nimmo from Banff and Liz Grosche from Germany.

There’s friendly chat, instant coffee with no milk and a general sense of “we’re all in this together.”

Inside the pub, the crew are mid-shoot. A young woman named Phoebe reminds us to keep quiet. Angela arrives in character as the bent copper, flashing a prop warrant badge.

“This could be useful on a night out,” she jokes.

Marcus, one of the film’s two directors, bounds in, buzzing with energy despite having had barely any sleep.

He begins explaining the plot of the movie, provisionally titled In the Court of the Queen of Shadows, but is almost immediately whisked away by a crew member.

It’s an early indication of how the day will go: us extras sitting around, waiting for something to happen while the directors and crew race around with barely enough time to chat.

The other factor is the film’s budget — or, more accurately, the lack of one. Everyone here is a volunteer. In Aberdeen’s still-fledgling film industry, there’s little scope for payment.

Creating that movie magic

Shooting moves into the main bar, so the extras shuffle into the snug next door.

For the next hour or so we happily sit and chat.

Samana fills us in on the latest in Scottish Water’s purification methods while Liz talks about her time in the accelerator programme run by Aberdeen’s more established film production company, Crow House Projects, which last year released the locally-shot film Roast in Peace.

In fact, the film we’re making is a product of that programme — Marcus and the other director, Dan McCollum, are two of the first graduates.

Liz hopes she’ll also help expand Aberdeen’s film slate once she joins their ranks.

Eventually, we’re called through to the main bar. It’s packed with cables, lights, cameras and crew.

Marcus arranges the extras in their seats, then changes his mind and moves us. Then does it again. And again.

Eventually, everything is in place. And with time ticking on, we’re ready for the first take.

“Quiet on set,” Dan says, beginning the litany of checks heard on film sets everywhere.

“Audio rolling.”

“Camera rolling.”

“Slate.”

“Action!”

The room that seconds earlier echoed with noise falls into a funereal hush. The loose-limbed energy of waiting is transformed into something sharp and focused.

The actors do their thing while I sit as still as possible on my chair, Angela’s advice looping in my head. It lasts all of five seconds — but in that concentrated space there really is something special.

Movie magic, you might say.

The crew resets. Another take, and Marcus shouts “Moving on!”. The scene is in the can.

Aberdeen’s ‘fertile ground for film making

The brains behind In the Court of the Queen of Shadows are directors Dan and Marcus — two history PhD students-turned-filmmakers who met in a pub, bonded over horror movies and decided to write one.

That meeting eventually led to the creation of Plague Dorm and their debut short film.

As graduates of the Crow House accelerator programme, they are passionate about building a sustainable local film industry so people don’t have to move south to make movies.

“There’s very fertile ground here,” says Dan, a voluble American from Wisconsin. “It just hasn’t had the investment to sprout.”

Aberdeen, they argue, has it all: dramatic granite architecture, consistent cloud cover ideal for filming and talented people. What it lacks is infrastructure — but Plague Dorm is trying to change that.

Everyone here is volunteering, giving up their time for free because they believe in the potential of a homegrown film scene. “Every time I get stressed,” Dan says, “I remind myself — I’m making a movie. Then I smile again.”

The pair are already thinking about their next project and hope the success of this one will attract more attention to the city’s potential.

They plan to submit In the Court of the Queen of Shadows to festivals later this year and continue working with the Crow House network to support new filmmakers.

As for me, I’m not quitting journalism for a life on set just yet. But if Plague Dorm get their way, Aberdeen might just be the place to try.

And in case you were wondering — I nailed that pint-nursing background role. Look out for me at a film festival near you. I’ll be the blurry one behind the corrupt cop.