I sign the NDA on my phone as I’m pulling into the wrong address. I’ve never read an NDA in my life. I sign away my rights freely.
It’s taken me one bus—the 254—a train, and an uber to get to the wrong location. We are out in the sticks. I could maybe live here one day. I don’t know where I’m going, but production sent me a What3Words link so I wouldn’t get lost. I thought mountain rescuers were the only people that used What3Words.
feed.cure.yoga if you’re curious.
After driving around for a bit longer I see a pink flag, I remember from the call sheet: “Follow the pink signs.” Pink signs, Pinkpantheress. I pull up to an actual manor—a stately home with a hotel twist.
“Are you Jackson?” someone asks as I walk in. He walkies someone to collect me, and I’m ushered up an imposing set of stairs.
I squeeze through a triangular doorway. Someone’s immediately getting wrenched into a corset. In fact, everybody’s wearing corsets. I wonder what the concept for this video is. I’ve walked into this totally blind.
I slip into the room where they’re setting up the first shot and stand in front of Charlotte Rutherford (she’s directing the music video and the person who so kindly invited me onto set.) staring, waiting for her to see me. I’m so fucking awkward. We say hi quickly, I have so much I want to talk about, but they’re about to start rolling—that means filming. I keep forgetting she’s at work.
“Action!”
“5, 6, 7, 8.” Apparently they filmed a Steps music video here.
Saying “5, 6, 7, 8.” reminds me of Steps.
The four backup dancers immediately break out into choreography. Live choreography is crazy.
“Quick mingle. Quick feather.” I don’t know what that means.
“Quick mingle. Quick feather.” What are they talking about?
“Jackson, can you help with feathers?” I’ve been here for fifteen minutes.
“Aim higher!” I have no idea who is talking to me.
“Cut!”
Everything happened so fast.
I go back to the room where I left my stuff. Pink turns to me—as in the Pinkpantheress, the one who sings “Boy’s a liar”. Everyone keeps referring to her as Pink, and I don’t know her real name—and asks if I ever get told I look like Hugh Grant. She turns back, and now everyone in the room is talking about the time he gets arrested.
Someone comes up to me and politely asks me to leave. I’ve made myself comfortable in Pink’s dressing room. I don’t like calling her Pink, it sounds weird.
I hope I don’t get arrested.
This place is a maze. I keep getting lost. Where is everyone?
I bump into somebody. “Sorry.”
“No, sorry, I’m in your way,” they reply.
I think maybe we’re all in the way.
A man with a tiny screen runs up to Charlotte and shows her the feather shot—this is called a playback. Charlotte tells everyone they look “swaggy.” I agree; it doesn’t look like real life. Someone behind me starts to juggle. I am mesmerised. Have you ever tried to juggle? It is so much harder than you think.
I get restless between shots. I can’t take any photos whilst they’re rolling. I can’t use my flash. This camera is useless without the flash. I wander around and get lost. I start trying to open random doors, but a lot of them are locked. I quickly remember this place is also a hotel and scurry back downstairs.
I start thinking about how the extras have to have fake conversations whilst they’re being filmed. I wonder what they pretend to talk about. To be honest, I don’t know what anyone is talking about. I keep asking questions.
Apparently, this shoot took 10 days of costume prep, and they changed the concept with four days to go. I would hate to be a stylist.
They’re filming a party scene. Everyone looks slightly strung out—medieval skins. I’m not sure if this will make it into the final edit, everyone seems a bit unsure. I think it looks fun. Hedonism is fun, no?
It’s ten o’clock in the evening, and someone is spinning on their head in a ballroom. Apparently, headspinners—this is what I’m calling them—develop a flat spot on the top of their skull. I send a 10-second video to my friend. Have I just broken the NDA…? I’m sure it’s fine.
One of the dancers comes up to me. “Does anyone ever tell you you look like Hugh Grant?”
Someone starts crumping. What is crumping?
I follow Pink back to her changing room. I would like to take one portrait of her. I’ve been cautious all day not to get too in her way. She’s tired—fair enough. One shot? “You can sit on the sofa, it’s only BTS,” I say.
“Is it film?”
“No, digital.”
“Oh, it looks like a film camera.”
I show her the screen and she smiles.
I get home around 11 p.m. I still don’t really know what the song sounds like—I’ve only really heard 30-second increments. But what I’ve heard, I like. I don’t bother trying to piece it together. I’ll hear it soon, I’m sure. I send Charlotte a text, thanking her for having me and pre-emptively apologising for being annoying. She sends me back a video she took of me on set. Wait—did Charlie just break the NDA?
They’re filming for a second day tomorrow, but I have to catch up on emails. Maybe this won’t make sense by the time the music video comes out, but I think that’s okay… I hope they all have fun.
Anyway, enjoy the music video.