MALTA DIARY

 

DAY TWO

 

I wake up with the sun, around 6 am.

 

Instagram and Tiktok are ablaze with news about the election, the outraged and the vindicated each having their noisy say.

 

I wander down to the mostly deserted beach and try to get into present time, strolling around the grounds of this lovely resort.

 

I seek out the exercise room, which is difficult to find because of a certain imprecision in the signage here; you kind of need to already know where your destination is in order to understand what they mean by “< Gym.”  To the right? Downstairs? Downstairs to the right? Go back?

 

The gym is not terribly well equipped for the number of guests they can handle, but I got in a little work out.

I want to stay in good shape, both for my endurance and appearance, so I plan to visit here often, especially now that I know how to find it.

 

Eventually I discovered the breakfast buffet. The morning was lovely, and the view of the Mediterranean Sea below, magical.

 

At nine I have an appointment with a young doctor, a diagnostician named James. He and I chat about his job while he takes my vitals for the film’s insurance.

 

He tells me he has been in Malta for eight years and now has his own practice, mainly doing work for films that need a medical professional for exams like this.  He tells me he is changing his life lately to eliminate stress and lead a “more balanced life.”  He used to focus on work to excess and neglect other things like family, the result of which his girlfriend left him. I give him the best advice I have to hand.

 

At ten am we have a HUNGRY table read in the hotel. I meet the other actors and a few of the crew, the first and second AD, a producer, and a few others.

 

We do a read-thru of the entire script. I don’t think I’ve ever been part of a film where this was done; it is very valuable to get oriented to the project this way, and to the actors and crew whom I’ll be working with.

 

The AD, Emma, reads all the stage directions. She’s not an actress nor a native English speaker, so it is all a little slow and imprecise. After my character is finally out of the picture on page 51, I offer to take over.  She gladly accepts. My narrating probably saves us all about ten minutes and is possibly easier to follow.

 

Afterwards, the producer Ben says “now we know who should read the audio version!”

 

We then have a short break until the next appointment, which is down in the outdoor swamp set so that we can be tested on our ability in the water, and in climbing the faux swamp trees which will feature heavily in the story.

 

I put on my bathing suit (or costume, as they say in this part of the world) and am delivered to set along with my companions.

 

There is a wetsuit hanging in my little dressing room, which is a large, clean container with a table, clothing rack and a couple chairs. I put on the wetsuit and walk out to meet with the other actors; several notice right off that I have put the suit on backwards. I go back in and try again.

 

Meskimen’s Law in full operation.

 

We are walked over to the outdoor lagoon that has been made specifically for our show. It’s about the size of a baseball infield and maybe four feet deep, although they are building up the concrete perimeter to permit a higher water level.

 

The water isn’t heated, but we are in a fairly warm season in Malta, so it wasn’t too bad. The wet suits will be necessary for the long days of exposure to the water.

 

On our way over, we meet our animatronic co-star, the villain of the show, the hippo.  The props and special effects team call her Nancy.

She really looks quite realistic and her jaws, full of massive brown-stained tusks and back molars, can open and shut very naturally. She even has short whiskers poking out from her huge snout.

 

“Oh, hippo whiskers!”, is a good epithet that I don’t manage to come up with at the time.

 

There are also fiberglass hippos that are  just shells, empty below the waterline, for the creation of the characteristic wake as it chases us in the swamp.

 

The first thing that the stunt coordinator, Chuck, has us do is fall backwards into the water without holding our noses. As we are already waist-deep, this isn’t much of a challenge. Then we individually are checked that we can also fall forward into the water with the same casual attitude. Piece of cake.

 

Next: the breath-holding test. The object is to be able to do a “dead man’s float” face down for thirty seconds.

 

Most of us are able to do this on the first try. Michel, a former Navy serviceman who possesses “physical relevance” as my old friend Eric the Trainer used to say,  takes the prize at well over a minute.

 

I don’t know why, but when it is put to us that holding one’s breath for 30 seconds might be a challenge, it suddenly seems hard to do; the suggestion that it would be hard has an effect on me. In any case, I manage 52 seconds, more than enough to pass the “test”.

 

We then practice climbing the faux bayou trees that figure so much in the story.  These hold the branches that the characters climb and cling to in escaping from the mad creature.

 

Although the realistic-looking trees have been equipped with foot and hand holds for climbing, they are a bit slippery and, in some places, rather rough on the hands. We are given scuba gloves to wear for this experimental run.

 

Additionally each of us gets into a safety harness, not so much to lift us up, but to provide security in case we slip and fall into the not yet very deep water.

 

I find it a bit hard to climb up the first tree, and I wonder what kind of shoes I’ll be wearing on the day. I hope for shoes with a robust tread; for this run-thru, we sport diving shoes.

 

I do a test climb on each of the two trees that I will be scampering up in the story, and then am released to go to wardrobe to try on my costume and confer with the makeup and hair departments.

 

It occurs to me that it would be a good idea to not drink a lot of coffee or tea on shoot days, as taking bathroom breaks with a wetsuit on isn’t going to be easy.  Peeing in the suit, and therefore into the tank, though probably comfortable, won’t be a good tactic. I vow to limit my intake accordingly.

At wardrobe I meet Guilia and her team, and am photographed in the two choices they had made for my character’s outfit. I also got a haircut by Mirko, and turn over the sheet of temporary tattoos to my makeup team, Chantel and Zoe, to inspect and hold on to for me.

 

They are impressed when I tell them I got them made by Christien Tinsley, a famous name over here. I feel very special telling them that Christien and I had been friends since his very first makeup assignment on The Grinch in 1999.

 

Finally I am wrapped and make my way back to the hotel on foot, there being no van around. As is my habit, I manage to get lost.

 

I can see the hotel so figured it will be a short, easy walk back. Easy it is, but by no means short, as my assumption about finding a direct path back to the destination which I could SEE, right over THERE turns out to be wishful thinking. There is an extensive campground between me and the hotel, and no way to traverse straight through.

 

I enjoy the walk, (although it covers the maximum amount of ground between two points) on a footpath lined with old trees and abandoned stone structures (barracks?) and decorated with a lot of fresh horse manure.  This at least is an assurance that I wasn’t the only live being who has stumbled onto this trail.

 

Once back in the Radisson, which mercifully had an entrance not far from the ancient footpath, I continue my trend of getting lost, in the hotel’s corridors now, until I eventually locate my room.

 

In the evening the cast dines together in Monika, the downstairs lounge, and gets more acquainted. The meal is tasty, and not too expensive, but I still don’t think my per diem will quite cover it. My hope is that the production will feed us well on the days we actually work.

 

The other night when I arrived at the Malta airport an older gentleman introduced himself and his wife on the tram from the gate to baggage claim. He recognizes me from TikTok and admires my videos!

 

I’m amazed to be recognized so far from home.  Today Frank calls to say he would be happy to arrange an outing for me next weekend. His name is Frank Salt, and he is in real estate in Malta.  He apologizes for not meeting me this weekend, as he just had a pacemaker put in so needs a bit of rest.

 

Incredible the introduction social media can be!