“The Tragedy of Film Extras”
www.bbcmirror.lk
www.Lankawebnews.lk
(By Lieutenant Duminda Senarath)
Out of tens of thousands who dream of facing the camera, only a few ever get to speak. For the rest, the dream looks like this: Wake up at 3 a.m. in Anuradhapura or Matara, board the first bus to Colombo, spend Rs. 1200 on travel, and stand for 10 hours under the sun just to walk across a road in the background. You will not be seen. Your face will be a blur. But you came, because you were told that “there is a chance.”
Can they act? Most cannot. Not because they lack talent, but because no one ever taught them. They come with desire, not training. They have the desire to act, but rarely have the opportunity to learn or develop their skills. I have met a 52-year-old man who said, “Sir, I have been in 40 films.” I asked him to show me one scene. He scrolled through his phone for 10 minutes and finally pointed at a crowd near a temple gate. “That dot there. That’s me.” He laughed. But there was no pride in it.
Are extra artists important? Walk through any film set and you will know. A hospital scene without patients feels dead. A protest with 5 people looks fake. A wedding with no guests is just an empty hall. The extra artists are the color, the noise, the life. They may not be noticed by the audience, but they help make a scene feel real.
But the system behind them is broken. After thep script is done and the main actors are cast, the assistant director gives one instruction to a coordinator: “I need 100 people tomorrow, at 6 a.m.” The coordinator calls another coordinator. That person calls 10 more. By the time the message reaches the artist, the pay has been cut three times. By the time the message reaches the artist, deductions have been made at every stage.
On set, they are the last to be fed. Tea comes cold. Lunch comes late, if it comes at all. They sit on the roadside, in full costume, waiting while the main cast eats in a van with AC. Payment is the biggest wound. There is an industry agreement for Rs. 5000 per day for commercials. But in films and teledramas, the numbers fall. Rs. 2000 becomes Rs. 1500. Rs. 1500 becomes Rs. 1100. Rs. 1000 becomes Rs. 800. I have seen a coordinator collect Rs. 3000 for one person from production, and hand over Rs. 800 to the artist with the words, “Be grateful you got work.” The artist nods, because he needs another call tomorrow.
No one complains. Because the moment you complain, your name is removed from the list. “We’ll call you” becomes a lie. For an artist who depends on the next call for work, speaking up can feel like risking that opportunity altogether. So they stay silent. They borrow money for the bus. They go home tired. And they come back next week for the same.
From what I have seen and heard from people in this line of work, human labour must have value. An industry that sells dreams to millions cannot build those dreams on the backs of people who are treated like furniture. We need a central registry of extra artists. We need direct bank payments on the same day. We need licensed coordinators and a simple audit. One clerk in one bank can stop a scam with one email. One phone call can ensure 100 people get paid fairly.
Extra artists are not shadows in the background. They are fathers, mothers, students, and retirees chasing one shot at dignity. They are people who give their time and effort to make someone else’s story look real, even when their own stories remain unseen. Until we see them, the tragedy will continue – thousands arriving with hope, and leaving with empty pockets and invisible faces.
humanrightspo.org
www.asianews.lk
www.bbcmirror.lk
www.asianewsplusone.com
www.sfmnewslk.com
www.Lankawebnews.lk
www.ceylonwebrepoter.com
www.ceylonwebnews.com
www.ceylonnewsmedia.com
chat.whatsapp.com/Knsroge4upyJzBjJLvNMQS?mode=gi_c
https://youtube.com/@bbcmirror?si=gUipLaxS2au3wav-
http://www.instagram.com/bbcmirror_media_?igsh=MW5seTc0eW1yYmVsNw%3D%3D&utm_source=qr