Skip to main content

Advertisement

Advertisement

My Channel 8 Diaries

At the end of my first day working with the cast and crew on the set of an upcoming MediaCorp Channel 8 drama, my mother stared at my sunburnt face and arms, my swollen lips and pained expression and asked, “is it worth it?”

At the end of my first day working with the cast and crew on the set of an upcoming MediaCorp Channel 8 drama, my mother stared at my sunburnt face and arms, my swollen lips and pained expression and asked, “is it worth it?”

It was a difficult question to answer. I had realised that I had spent the last year as a features reporter at TODAY interviewing celebrities, including MediaCorp stars, but had absolutely no idea what life was like for those who worked behind the scenes. So I decided to volunteer to work for three days on the set of a Channel 8 drama series.

But after only just one day on set, I genuinely felt like throwing in the towel — and I am not just referring to the one that I wore on my head beneath my cap to absorb my sweat (and tears).

 

HARD LABOUR

 

There is an extraordinary amount of preparation work to be done during the month before filming begins. But because I only had three days, it was decided that I would receive a three-hour crash course on the duties of an assistant producer, and work undercover as an intern on the set of upcoming MediaCorp TV Channel 8 thriller, Against The Tide. In other words, I was to be the assistant to the assistant to the assistant to the director during the filming of an actual television drama series. And no one was to know that I was, in fact, a reporter on assignment.

No surprise, my first day on set was a baptism of fire. More acclimatised to the comforts of work in the office, I had turned up for work at 7am with only one coat of sunscreen, a small water bottle and a small packet of sweets. We started filming under the scorching hot sun at Punggol at about 8.30am until nearly 8pm. I went for about 10 hours without food, because we only stopped for a short water break at noon — I was sent out to buy dozens of cans of drinks and buns for the crew — and for lunch at 3.30pm. I recognised very quickly that this was the way of life on set. And nobody was going to take care of you, if you didn’t know how to take care of yourself. The next day, I turned up with a one-litre bottle, a full bottle of sunscreen, a towel, a cap and two potatoes. I was ready.

We filmed many difficult action scenes over my three-day stint, and I was really excited to be a part of a production team that blew a car up, just because a team of writers had the audacity to imagine it. Tensions were high because there was so much work to be done and logistics to take care of, so I tried to help out as much as I could with the menial tasks. But even knowing when and how to be helpful turned out to be trying.

I learned, for instance, that a small sling bag is an unflattering but essential accessory for every production assistant, but only when I found that I had nowhere to place Desmond Tan’s sunglasses when he passed them to me before he shot an action scene. I also learned, when tasked with taking attendance of the actors early in the morning at the make-up room, not to stare too intently, even if it is nearly impossible to figure out who someone is beneath a mop of bed hair. There were even things to be learned carrying Rui En’s shoes — that it is always necessary to stand next to your actress when she is changing in and out of her flip flops, so she can hold on to your shoulder for support.

 

I KNEW YOU WERE TROUBLE

 

Thanks to my chronic clumsiness and perhaps excessively formal Mandarin, I felt I never quite fit in with the crew and assistant producers, many of whom are from Malaysia. Still, I was very moved to have been met with immeasurable kindness. The APs were mostly quite patient with me. Some of the members of the crew and make-up artists also took pity on me, and secretly gave me advice and instructions. “The assistant producers will give you more work to do if they think you have nothing to do,” one of them whispered in my ear. “You have to be smart when you’re on set.” Luckily, I mastered the art of looking busy many years ago, around the time my mother began asking me to help out with the household chores.

On set, however, I tried to be a little more useful. I had a difficult time dealing with the background actors, or extras. I was charged with overseeing these extras, some of whom, of course, turned up late, soiled their costumes and simply refused to follow instructions and stay in one place. One man even used a disused restroom, even after we had specifically told him that there was a portable lavatory on set. Admittedly, however, it is extremely challenging being an extra. They wait for hours and hours —often an entire day — just to shoot one or two scenes. Directors and assistant producers sometimes bark at them because, like me, most come with no experience or insight. “I have a toy gun if you need to borrow an extra prop,” the same toilet man said to me. I had no idea how to respond.

I was also asked to take care of the umbrellas — a task I really struggled with. You may scoff, but there is an unspoken hierarchy, as I discovered, when it comes to the use of the umbrellas. My job was to shield the actors in between takes, when they had to stand in position under the cursed hot sun. If the actors were fine, my next priority was the director. When it rained — as it did several times during my stint — I ran towards the cameras and made sure they were covered. “And when there are more important things to be done, throw the umbrellas to the ground,” the assistant producer instructed.

It sounds easy enough, but I never quite knew when to come in with the umbrellas, or when to get out of the way. I didn’t know how to tell if the director and crew needed mere moments or minutes to start shooting again. I also discovered, after director Lim Meng Chek yelled impatiently at me for walking in the wrong direction, that it was always a good idea to look a little more hurried. He did, though, later tell me in a much gentler voice not to take what is said (or screamed) on set to heart. “Let it go in one ear and out the other,” he added. By then, I had already started thinking about my soft and comfortable bed, but I was truly grateful to him for reassuring me.

Of course, a stint like this comes with some perks. As an entertainment writer, it was fascinating to see the actors, who are usually a little more guarded during interviews and press conferences, being themselves on set. Desmond Tan was always singing old Mandarin songs from the ’90s in between takes, speaking in broken Cantonese with other cast members and laughing with the crew. Rui En thanked us profusely for even the smallest favours. And newcomer Carrie Wong jokingly apologised for being more than 20cm taller than me, when I had to raise my arm to shield her with an umbrella. Not exactly what the secret gossip in me had hoped for or imagined. But I am not complaining.

 

FOR WHAT IT’S WORTH

 

At the end of my three-day stint, I went home and stayed horizontal for the next 48 hours. And as I lay on my bed feeling genuinely grateful for my real day job, I couldn’t help but wonder if my colleagues at Channel 8 truly believe it was worth sacrificing not only their time and energy, but also any semblance of a social life, for the sake of producing television shows?

I sought answers from every assistant producer and production assistant I met. Chatting was quietly frowned upon on set, so I asked each of them over lunch, why they wanted to be assistant producers. Most of them shot me strange looks, as if I was asking the most bizarre question. I didn’t get a straight answer until my last day, when one of the girls finally replied, laughing a little bitterly, “interest, lor”.

Clearly, there is enormous satisfaction to be derived, while some producers probably harbour dreams of one day directing their own shows. Though that’s a long way from sweeping up leaves to use in a shot, and gathering ants to use as “extras” on a scene; live cockroaches apparently cost a dollar a piece.

So to answer to my mother’s question, I genuinely love television, and can see how gratifying it is to bring a screenwriter’s vision to life. Still, in all honesty, I would only choose to undertake such a demanding endeavour, if I truly believed in the project and could be proud to be even just a small part of it.

That being said, so much lies outside the control of any single person. On set, I found it very difficult not to question some of the decisions made by the show’s writers. What was more troubling to me was also the fact that, when I approached one of the assistant producers about a particularly outrageous plot point, she simply said: “If that’s how the scriptwriter wrote it, that’s what we will shoot.”

Perhaps concerns like these may have been brought up in the early stages of pre-production. But I couldn’t help but wonder: At what point does such unquestioning deference become unhealthy?

So was it really worth becoming several shades darker, for the sake of understanding what my colleagues at Channel 8 go through? Absolutely.

Would I work full-time in television? I think I would rather marvel at the wonders of television production from the comfort of my bed, thank you very much.

 

For a day-by-day look at the adventure, check out

Day 1: http://tdy.sg/ch8day1

Day 2: http://tdy.sg/ch8day2

Day 3: http://tdy.sg/ch8day3

Read more of the latest in

Advertisement

Advertisement

Stay in the know. Anytime. Anywhere.

Subscribe to get daily news updates, insights and must reads delivered straight to your inbox.

By clicking subscribe, I agree for my personal data to be used to send me TODAY newsletters, promotional offers and for research and analysis.