Fort Worth Film Commission
Presumably, if you follow along with the goings-on of Paramount pop culture, you’ve heard of the new genre of television called “Taylor Sheridan” and his newest — at least new to me — hit “Landman.”
His audiences are — to borrow a phrase — hog wild about it.
Well, it was on this particular show that I received my entry into The Industry — my Hollywood debut. Actually, the first rule of The Industry is that one is not an “extra.” He is a “background artist.”
I don’t expect anyone to treat me any differently with my newfound status as an actor. I put my pants on one leg at a time, just like everyone else.
The lasting impression? Demi Moore has still got it. She has defied the burdens of Father Time. And, no, I don’t care how she’s done it.
Demi Moore — and Andy Garcia — was as close to Hollywood glamour as I got while shooting this dinner scene in downtown Fort Worth. (Producers and viewers alike need not worry about any spoilers because I didn’t know what the hell was going on. In fact, to that point, I’d never seen the show.)
The experience for us background artists was more akin to Burk Burnett moving cattle from the Red River to the railhead to, well, the Railhead. A young point rider at the front leading this herd of 150-200 promising actors, with swing, flank, and drag riders turning and keeping the stragglers in line.
It’s a difficult job these guys have dealing with all these Hollywood personalities.
There are a lot of “nos” you have to learn before you get on set. No talking — to each other or to Demi Moore. No looking at the camera — it’s a mortal sin that destroys the soul’s grace and severs one’s relationship with God. Don’t even think about snapping a photograph or selfie. That’ll get you run off the premises and blacklisted faster than you can say “communist sympathizer.”
And whatever you do, don’t clink your silverware during the dinner scene. Even the slightest noise gets picked up by the sound team’s ultra-sensitive mics. To the audio crew, your fork is a jackhammer.
There’s also no complaining about your whiskey on the rocks being water and food coloring. It’s a special kind of buzzkill, especially after waiting all day for the big moment of lights, camera, action. Oh, and, yes, if you have any aversion to waiting, this hustle in the gig economy is not for you.
Being on-set, though, is a fun experience, getting a firsthand look at how productions work. It’s kind of film school without the outrageous tuition. And I’ve been able to tell everyone in town I’m a star in “Landman.” And unless there’s some sort of AI at play, they literally can’t shoot these scenes, especially a dinner scene, without the extras.
Yet, there was something far bigger at play. All the reasons for Fort Worth and Texas saying “yes” to the film industry were on full display for this rookie.
Keep trickling on down, Ronald Reagan and Arthur Laffer.
The thought of what just this particular day cost these industry executives was staggering. And that money creeps into local coffers. The local economy feels it. Over the past nine years, the film industry in Fort Worth has generated somewhere in the neighborhood of $800 million in economic impact. Local vendors and equipment companies, the hospitality and catering businesses, and hotels all reap the benefits of increased business. Estimates of job creation are eye-opening, a reported more than 20,000 locals — like me — put to work through the film industry.
This is all expected to ramp up with the Legislature passing a bill authorizing an increase in incentives for film production in Texas. The governor is expected to sign it. The bill authorizes the depositing of $300 million in an incentive fund every two years until 2035. A lack of incentives had been keeping production companies out of Texas.
Sheridan, Matthew McConaughey, Woody Harrelson, and Dennis Quaid all testified in favor of the bill. Texas’ great lure for the industry is its varied topography. You can get just about any kind of setting in Texas. The low cost of living, too.
“One of my great frustrations was that I wrote ‘Hell or High Water,’ and they filmed the darn thing in New Mexico,” Sheridan told legislators. “My love story to Texas was shot west of where it should have been shot.”
So, too, was the case for “You Gotta Believe,” the story of Fort Worth’s West Side Little League World Series team. Much of that was shot in Canada.
“There are tons of Texans who live in California and New York, all over the globe, who are pursuing their careers, because those opportunities weren’t here in Texas,” said Grant Wood, co-founder of Media for Texas, who spoke to the Texas Tribune. “We have essentially been subsidizing the workforce of these other states.”
My career in film is likely a one-and-done, unless, of course, they need a leading man for Demi Moore.
Fort Worth, on the other hand, is a long way from being done.
