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My Life In Ruins

5/23/2009

 
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Keeping Nia Vardalos' seat warm on the set of 'My Life in Ruins' at the Temple of Apollo, Delphi

It was one of those Zeus-thrown lightning bolt storms—the kind that makes you question your fate and reach enthusiastically  for your cell phone to dial the $3 per minute call to Mom and Dad, to tell them how much you really do love them, even though you leave them to run back to Greece every year.  Our palpable terror was amplified by the backdrop for this storm, the Temple of Apollo.  Stranded by the fear of being hit by one of those lightning bolts and the revulsion of returning to my hotel room covered in mud, I was huddled under a flimsy tent shelter along with a dozen Greek nicotine addicts. 

Nia Vardalos, on a makeshift folding-chair throne under a slightly wider tent than ours, was probably contemplating if it had been worth her year-long effort to obtain Greek permission to film at the ancient sites of Delphi, Olympia and the Acropolis.  Everyone was muttering under their breath that we had finally incited the wrath of Apollo and must suffer the consequences.  Many, however, especially the non-Greeks, were not aware of the peculiar propensity for Greek lightening to find its human mark.  Mountain goat-herders top the at-risk list. Even wedding parties were not immune, such as the one in the appropriately-named town of Drama. The headline read: Drama in Drama. My absolute favorite, though, had to be the Athenian widow’s story.  Was it one year ago or two that I had morosely laughed at this typical Modern Greek tragedy? An Athenian widow attends her husband’s funeral at Athens’ A Cemetery.  It is raining.  She is carrying a metal-tipped umbrella.  She is struck by lightning and instantly reunited with her dead spouse. 

Only in Greece. 

So this was going through my mind, alongside the calculation of my rapidly decreasing lifespan, courtesy of second-hand smoke inhalation.  The doctor side of me never allowed my complete enjoyment of Greece.  In the end, that was the side that won out.  I couldn’t imagine Zeus taking my life at my beloved Delphi, although flashing through my mind was the possibility that my natural tendency to worship the ancient Goddess and hang out at the lower Temple of Athena site might have finally pissed Apollo off.  In an instant, I went for it and ran--across slippery marbled boulders and down muddied paths--while breathing in the pungent pine tree drenched aroma.  I ran past the make-shift day camp where the actors had attended their luncheon banquet while, we, the peon extras, ate ours out of boxes.  I ran past the portable toilets, which now represented my only claim to movie fame when I inadvertently stopped the production because I needed to pee.  I’m sure that the assistant extra casting director regretted his decision to make me Nia’s stand-in, but, honestly, was it my fault that I most closely matched her height and frame?  He was already irritated by my hanging out with the crew and not with the extras, the same crew that I happened to have met the prior week on Skopelos during the filming of Mamma Mia.

I was rewarded for my muddy dash at the base of Mount Parnassus with a ride back to my hotel room by none other than Alexis Georgoulis’ brother.  Georgoulis is the handsome Greek actor, very popular amongst young Greek women, who co-stars as Nia’s driver.  My Greek girlfriends kept harassing me about getting his picture for them.  That day, it was his brother, the real driver, who was my hero.  As we were bantering back-and-forth in Greek during the short drive down the hill, I reflected on the bizarre sequence of events that had brought me to this moment.  I was certain that Moira (pronounced mee-ra), fate, had, once again, played its role.  Just a few days earlier I had returned to Athens from my yearly visit to my favorite island Skopelos. I was relating to my Greek landlady actress, Mania, the details of my completely unexpected role as an extra in Mamma Mia--about meeting Pierce Brosnan on the beach, about my impressions of Meryl Streep and Colin Firth.  Then we jokingly talked about my upcoming yearly return to Delphi.  I asked Mania if she could remember the last time, or any time, for that matter, that a movie had been filmed there.  She could not.  I had heard from the British camp crew on Skopelos that some of them would be traveling to Athens to set up for My Life in Ruins, but no one mentioned Delphi.  So when I arrived in Delphi and told my Greek friends about my Mamma Mia experience they rather jadedly replied, “Yes.  They are filming a movie here too.”  And so it happened that I ended up as an extra in both movies at my two favorite Greek locations, Skopelos and Delphi, within a couple weeks. And now, after nineteen months, you too are in for a treat! You won’t need to travel far to experience these awesome ruins.

And if the spectacular scenery isn’t enough to keep you entertained, then look for me in the background at Delphi. I’m the one with the long black and white hair, the one trying not to look at the camera.

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Nia, to the director's frustration, was extremely gracious in posing for pictures with her fans.

Read my interview with Andi about the shoot on her Blog here.

See the trailer here.

See my favorite interview with Alexis Georgoulis here.
For those of you who don't know who Alexis is, take a look at this Greek ad for My Life in Ruins:





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You thought when I mentioned spectacular scenery, I was talking about the ancient sites? The Greeks know how to advertise! Now you understand why Nia snuck in that extra kiss in front of her husband.

My Life in Ruins Movie Trivia

Nia's parents are in the film and are two of the nicest people you'll ever meet!
Her husband Ian plays the hotel clerk.
Richard Dreyfuss' brother doubled for him.
Nia had last visited Delphi as a child.
In the film, Nia wears a cycladic figurine pendant.

 

 
Cara Lopez Lee link
7/28/2009 10:09:14 am

Once while traveling, I was struck by a voracious need to pee... amid the Greek gods and goddesses at the Gardens of Versailles. I took care of my problem in an unladylike manner that apparently shocked the statue of the Greek Goddess Latona into dropping her chiton (or toga).

The fountains of Versailles use so much water that they're only turned on once or twice a day. I bought a special ticket to see Les Grandes Eaux Musicales, The Great Musical Waters. For two hours the fountains of Versailles sprang to life: glorious geysers gushed into the breathless blue of a summer afternoon, while classical music played over loudspeakers.

Halfway through the show, the sight and sound of millions of gallons of gushing water created a problem I hadn’t planned for: I had to pee—now. The thing was, the urge didn’t strike me until I was nearly a mile from the chateau—which was jammed with tourists—and the need became dire so quickly I knew I’d never make it. After months of travel, abusing my bladder for hours at a time while searching for toilets, my control over that body part had reached an all-time low. There was no question: I was about to let go a gusher, in front of hundreds of people.

So, as fast as I could, I scurried to a nearby group of lawns bordered by tall trees, as far away from the crowds as I could manage. Once out of sight, I grabbed my crotch and squeezed as I rushed to a long line of bushes, where—hoping no official types or guardians of French etiquette would walk by—I hiked up my skirt, dropped my panties, crouched on my toes and, with a grateful sigh, peed loud and long in the dirt of the opulent Gardens of Versailles.

It’s funny how the problems in my life shrink when I have a desperate urge to go, and how brightly beautiful and tranquil that same life seems right afterward. As I continued on my stroll, feeling light and relaxed, it occurred to me that I’d likely just repeated a revolutionary act. Surely a few of the peasants who ransacked the palace during the French Revolution—upon seeing this opulent affront to their hunger and poverty, and upon hearing the suggestion of the fountains—must have seen fit to take a piss in the decadent dirt of Versailles.

Unlike Rebecca in Greece, I did not risk getting struck by lightning. Though if any French officials ever read this, I suppose I risk being politely asked to never again darken the doorstep of the Palace at Versailles again. Unlike Rebecca, I didn't meet any gorgeous Greek hunks along the way, unless you count the gilded Apollo on his horse-drawn chariot, emerging from an explosion of water... Uh-oh. Excuse me, gotta go.



valentine link
1/11/2010 12:55:14 pm

I recently came accross your blog and have been reading along. I thought I would leave my first comment. I dont know what to say except that I have enjoyed reading. Nice blog. I will keep visiting this blog very often.

Rebecca link
1/11/2010 02:16:28 pm

Thanks Valentine,
I'm glad that you are enjoying my blog.
Please tell others--who may be interested--about it!

Helena
2/17/2010 04:16:19 pm

What an interesting, entertaining experience you had on the set of My Life In Ruins! I saw the movie and enjoyed the incomparable scenery but alas, the movie itself was lacking. It was done in the style of Greek feature film comedies 30 or more years ago - overtly slapstick physical comedy with patently obvious jokes, caricatures and cliches rather than characters that resonate, and a credible plot. I found Mamma Mia a cringe for similar reasons. I tried hard to like Mamma Mia, but no, it was too exaggerated, and the overacting was really off-putting.

Bookie Software link
7/20/2010 08:20:03 am

When I first read the title, I thought it's about a poor fellow, but I was wrong :) Interesting post. Thanks for sharing your experience with us! Appreciate it

Rebecca link
7/20/2010 09:46:26 am

Thanks for making me smile! Glad you enjoyed the post. I enjoyed sharing it.


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