Illustration by Alex Siklos
You may have seen me nodding off on the subway in an episode of the TV series The Boys, or wearing a lab coat and reading a medical chart on Nurses, or maybe being briefed in the situation room on Designated Survivor. Then again, maybe you didn’t see me, which would be good. For seven years, I’ve had a side hustle doing background work on TV series and films. I make a decent union wage and I like to think the work’s important.
Without extras on the periphery of the main action there’d be no atmosphere. One of the reasons for the 2023 SAG-AFTRA strike was regulating the use of “synthetic performers,” AI-generated human likenesses that would replace people like me nodding off in the subway. (I contend that dozing on public transit is some of my best work.) Believe me, you’ll miss the authenticity when it’s gone.
One of my favourite background gigs is that of “passerby.” Some might find this role demeaning, but being a professional passerby tells me that my movement matters. Studios think it’s an unnecessary expense (see aforementioned AI-generated human likenesses), others know that it shores up the principal actors who carry the scene. Regardless, being a passerby requires more skill than you think. Observe pedestrians in the field; one false move can result in embarrassment or injury. Ask my cousin – she broke her arm after tripping while using her cellphone. The next time you watch your favourite TV series or film, notice the passersby in the background and see if you can detect any acting. The movements should be smooth and fluid. You should see no flailing on the ground.
I found a fresh tree on the curb and didn’t have the heart to leave it
My love of walking extends into my personal life. Walking is touted as an excellent weight-bearing exercise. Recent books on the secrets of flânerie celebrate the mindful stroll. I get it. Walking takes me through corridors, lanes, alleys, hallways, nooks and crannies not accessible by vehicle. I once navigated Grand Central Station with a friend who relies on her car for transportation. She followed me as I led her up and down escalators and stairs, around corners, along the mezzanine and train platforms. “You know your public transportation,” she said between wheezing. Yes. Instinctively. You never know when your car will break down and you’ll have to negotiate travel on your feet.
As I get older, I enjoy watching other people pass by. One of my favourite places to people-watch is in the Manulife Centre at Bay and Bloor in Toronto. It’s a brightly lit space with wide paths and high-end retail tenants. Most of its passersby are office workers, people going to the subway, visitors to the Eataly emporium, and local residents, many of whom probably live in the apartments above the mall. I’ll grab some food at the takeout counters on the concourse level and sit at a table in the small public dining area. From this vantage point I observe the parade of humanity.
A lot of humanity is looking at its phone. There’s rarely doddering. If the Manulife Centre was a TV series, it could be Suits, or Succession. People are on the move. There’s flow. I hope I never get jaded enough to ignore what moves around me.
For many people, the option to sit quietly and observe the bustle of pedestrians is not available to them. Depending on where they are and how they appear, they may be asked to move on by security guards. Walking city streets may not be as safe as it once was, if the 24-hour news cycle is any indication. Seasoned pedestrians rely on vigilance and gut instinct and know how to use peripheral vision. Still, random acts of violence do occur, as do random acts of kindness. I’m aware of both.
I live in a small town now, away from busy streets and steady foot traffic. I continue to walk here, even if I’m the only person on the sidewalk for blocks at a stretch. One evening I took my usual stroll to the river and a woman sitting on her porch asked me where I was going. “I’m going for a walk,” was my reply. Did my walking bring attention to itself? If I was on set, the Third Assistant Director would dismiss me to background holding.
So I get back to the city as often as I can: for gigs, to visit friends and, yes, to walk in my favourite neighbourhoods, to delight in and celebrate humanity in motion. To the passersby: the harried, the laughing, the lovers, the thoughtful, the distracted, from all backgrounds and all corners of the world – thank you for keeping me company as we promenade together and share our walks of life.
Carolyn Bennett lives in Toronto and Brockville, Ont.
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