“Quiet on set, roll cameras, and action!” I desperately choke for breath while grasping at my wounds. With a WW2-era revolver aimed at the entryway of an abandoned farm shed, I am slowly bleeding out while waiting for my enemies to finish me off. Suddenly, I hear noises just outside. It sounds like footsteps, and there are more than one set. As two mysterious men approach, I muster up all my strength and fire off a single shot, “Bang!” The shot flies just off to the right of the approaching figures. I missed my only chance. My body is too weak to aim and fire properly.

As the men continue their approach, they shout out “We’re English! We’re allies!” Anger turns into relief which quickly turns into sorrow. I’m dying. I’m covered in burn marks, cuts, and gashes with blood pooling under me. My British military uniform is in tatters. It’s torn at my thigh and lower leg revealing deep wounds covered in blood and charred flesh. The standard pilot jacket is stained with blood and debris, and my body is covered in latex scars from face to feet. The Nazis shot my plane down, and somehow, I barely survived the crash landing to take shelter in a nearby shed.

With a professional camera on a dolly just a few feet from my face, I weakly say my last few words to the concerned men crouched in front of me. I only get out two words before I slowly hunch over and die. My eyes remain open, but my whole body is motionless. Teardrops start to form from trying to keep my eyes open. I think to myself “dead bodies don’t blink, and dead bodies don’t cry. Keep it together!” Luckily, the protagonists see my desperation and close my eyes for me.

The two men then search my pockets for any vital information. They take my ID and a letter meant for my supposed partner much to the irritation of my actual partner. “I love you Suzie” it says. After having dragged my body a few feet over the large pool of blood, they soon realize that they don’t have time to repatriate me. The enemy can be heard quickly approaching. They must leave my body behind. Quickly, they run out of the shed before being spotted. The Nazis followed the blood trail to the same abandoned shed where I died. Again, my body is searched, but the Nazis find nothing. They were too late, and dead men tell no tales.

Somehow, remaining dead is much harder than the process of dying as an actor. Shallow breaths are seen quite clearly on camera when close up. Large breaths as well, and holding your breath for over two minutes when you are nervous is impossible. Even worse, it’s over 100 degrees outside, and you are wearing a typical pilot’s jacket with interior fur lining. Dead bodies shouldn’t sweat either!

So, how exactly did I become an actor in Spain? I’m just a normal American who is living abroad. I work as a simple English teacher at an afterschool academy, but somehow I was able to land a handful of acting roles this year.

In 2020, I came to Spain with the auxiliary conversation teacher program. I worked in Madrid for 2 years before moving to Seville with my partner where I continue to teach English. In the Summer of 2023, I got my first few acting gigs: the TV show scene mentioned above, a romance movie, and a beer commercial.

I had no idea that there was a production industry in the south of Spain. I completely expected TV shows and movies to be filmed exclusively in big cities like Madrid. Even more unexpected was the directors’ interest in me! I have no acting experience outside of some basic theater in Middle School. My only marketable traits are that I look exotic in Spain. I speak 3 languages relatively fluently, and I can be photogenic at times. I think of myself as any other typical person, though.

This weirdly wonderful experience all started with a casting call that was being passed around on social media in the summer. I saw that they wanted extras with German or English features. At first I wasn’t really interested. My summer plans were to work in an English academy and save as much as I can. Outside of work I would spend my time lazing about and taking many trips to my apartment’s pool.

If you aren’t familiar with summer in the south of Spain, imagine putting your face in the oven while dealing with constant sunburns. It leaves little energy to spend a day off being a background character for fun. After reading about the TV show being filmed, it did create some intrigue. A spy drama during WW2 set in Spain? That’s original, but it led to more concern. What if they make me a Nazi? Yes, of course it is just acting, but I’m a storyteller. I like to have adventures and share my experiences. Showing pictures of myself dressed up as a Nazi to my friends and family is a bit off-putting.

I was relatively interested in the project but then my partner told me that it would be paid. Having an interesting story AND getting paid for my time justified the efforts. I went to the casting website (Sondecasting), uploaded a handful of pictures, and completed my profile.

At first I received a few messages here and there to be an extra in the TV show. This was expected as I hadn’t signed up to be an actor with an actual role; however, the film dates in the messages would always coincide with my work schedule, and I wasn’t planning on calling in sick to be a background character. Later on, they sent me the small acting role, an actual part. I would portray a British pilot in his last moments. Better yet, the planned film date didn’t interfere with my work commitments either. I quickly and eagerly accepted the role.

“But don’t actors typically have to audition for roles?” From what I could gather, the production company was desperate. They were finishing up the first season and needed someone to come in on short notice for this role. Later on during the film shoot while talking with everyone, I found out that they had had multiple issues during production and were short on time, so instead of a formal audition, they sent me the script, surrounding context, and asked me to film myself acting out this scene.

It was a lot of fun and quite awkward trying to film the scene with my partner. We are both terrible at this sort of thing, and dying a slow and agonizing death in your living room while gripping at your “pistol”, the TV remote, doesn’t help you take things seriously. She would enter the living room to find me sitting on the floor supporting my back against the wall. My thought was that she would say the other actors’ lines in a neutral voice. Her idea at first was to stand there and let me do everything since she was too embarrassed. It led to confusion and both of us just waiting on the other. Later on, I convinced her to say the lines, but her first attempts were far from neutral.

On my end, my attempt at dying started off looking more like a grand mal seizure. I wanted to express pain, anger, and sorrow during the scene. All of these are valid emotions given the context, but if you continuously switch between these emotions while overacting, you end up looking crazy and unconvincing.

We brainstormed, and through consulting friends, each other, and online acting resources, we got some great advice:

• Less is more.
• Focus on the cause of death and alter your dying moments accordingly.
• After dying, there is nothing. No tension, no breath, and no life. Relax every muscle.

After a few more takes, we had something we were satisified with. I sent the video off to the casting agency, and they told me that same day that I was selected for the part. There was only one issue: I needed a new haircut and a clean shave. They sent me a reference picture and gave me just a few days to get an appropriate cut.

I found and booked an open appointment with my barber the next day and sent my new look to the casting agency immediately afterwards. I had to explain to my barber why I needed my hairstyle to match an old picture of a British pilot. It was a lot of fun discussing the fact that I had an upcoming film shoot with my barber; it was even more fun discussing my hypothetical life as a famous actor with my partner and her family.

If you are unfamiliar with Spanish culture, especially in the south of Spain, they are quick to compliment and love making others feel good. Even the parents of some of my friends mentioned that I am destined for the Goyas (the Spanish equivalent of an Oscar).

The following day I was sent a date, time, and location for pick-up for the film shoot, only a week away! Whenever I went to the bathrom I would find myself making faces in the mirror and trying my best to convincingly die. I would have a panicked breath, express pain in my eyes, grit my teeth, grasp my imaginary wound and slowly die. That week it was impossible for my partner to use the bathroom without waiting.

Moreover, even though I only had 2 words in my scene, I constantly practiced my British accent. I would repeat the words over and over again with different tones and volumes. I wanted to do it well. I would hate to cause issues on set or make myself a fool when the TV show comes out.

When the day of the film shoot finally arrived, I woke up at 5am to make it to the pick-up location before 6. The production crew was driving us to a town outside of Seville, and the shoot itself was on a typical Mediterranean farm. I had no idea who was picking me up, what they looked like, or what vehicle to look out for. All I was given was a location and a time. I sat at the designated location which was a busy intersection just off from the main bus station.

Cars were constantly parking, waiting, and leaving from this location. At first I waited for someone to approach me. “It shouldn’t be difficult to identify the only red-head at the corner”, I thought, but after waiting for about 20 minutes, I decided to start asking all the various parked cars around me if they were part of the film shoot. Eventually, a large black van rolled down their windows and invited me in. The woman driving the van was a nice blonde woman who was half Canadian and half Spanish. We chatted along the way, but she had to constantly make phone calls to put out fires with the transportation team. There were issues of mixed up keys, missing vehicles, and late arrivals. She seemed stressed; I was excited and optimistic.

After about an hour, we arrived on location at sunrise. I was taking in all the views while waiting for the rest of the production crew to arrive. If you aren’t involved in show-business, just know that 90% of the time, you will be waiting.

I spent the first hour with the on site farm dog. We were one of the first vans to arrive alongside the trucks carrying all the necessary film equipment. The large farmhouse became the base of operations. They set-up the catering, makeup stations, costumes, and documents there. After us came the makeup artists, other actors, and a classic car used in one of the scenes for the day.

Everyone there was friendly and down to Earth, but you could tell that the actors were tired and ready to be done with all the film shoots. It was supposed to be the last day of filming for season 1. Strangely enough, the villains of the show were some of the most cheerful and kind people there.

I spent the vast majority of my morning getting covered in latex scars, dirt, and fake blood. My pilot uniform fit perfectly, and I got to watch it slowly get torn apart and thrown around in the dirt to imitate the conclusion of a deadly airplane crash.

After hours of makeup and special effects, they drove me to a farm shed where my death scene would be filmed. There were large canopies provided to shade the actors from the sun and countless large trucks with heavy film equipment and power generators. There, I was able to officially meet the director of the show. He had a lot of feedback about where, how, and how much blood and dirt should cover which parts of my body. After fixing the issues he had with makeup and costume design, it was a long waiting game.

If you think about it, each scene needs to first get all the necessary film equipment ready, set up the scene for the shoot, prepare the costumes, makeup, and props, and organize not only the camera, but also the audio crew before even starting to work with the actors. It takes a long time before acting even begins, and there are multiple scenes that need to be filmed before getting to mine.

Due to all the waiting, I spent that afternoon under a canopy snacking and talking with the other actors. I was the only new actor there. The others have already been in various movies, TV shows, and commercials. They are professionals, but they treated me like everyone else. We talked and joked around for hours while waiting. It made me realize how famous actors had all that time for social media.

Finally, my turn came to act. I followed the instructions exactly as given. No improvisation and no artistic interpretation. I had no idea what I was doing, but the director gave clear instructions, and the other actors were incredibly supportive. Even though they changed the script before the shoot, they worked with me to get the best takes for each scene. My mind was racing the whole time, but I did my best. After finishing my scenes, one of the cameramen mentioned that guns recoil when shot. Well, shit, I forgot to think about that during the take. It also wasn’t included in the script that I would shoot a gun, so I didn’t have time to prepare beforehand. This part was added that day.

Funnily enough, before filming my scene, they absolutely covered me in fake blood. They had gallons of this sticky, viscous red syrup they dumped on my legs, feet, and around where I laid. It pooled up around my body to show that I was bleeding out. When the protaganists dragged my body a few feet, my butt became soaked with fake blood. It soaked right through my uniform. Not only is it sticky and uncomfortable, but it also stains.

I walked around uncomfortably on set like a boy who recently peed his pants: bow-legged. We had a nice dinner and packed up our things before being taken in vans back to the farmhouse. I was able to get changed and wash up, but I didn’t think about bringing a spare change of underwear, and we still had an hour long drive back to Seville. I asked around and somehow they were able to get me a pair of underwear. I have no idea whose underwear this is, but my best guess is that it belongs to one of the actors there.

They took us back to Seville in the same vans used to bring us to the film location. This time it wasn’t just me and the driver but rather a driver, a few actors, and me. They took us back to the city center, and we all went our separate ways from there. It was an interesting experience, and I was lucky enough to have had this experience two more times with a movie and beer commercial. Hopefully it can became more than a random gig every few months in the future, but regardless it gives me interesting stories to share.

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