Confessions Of An Extra…

1st May 2012

I’m back! I know you all missed me.

Sorry it’s been a while, but been gearing up for some big things coming soon. And, as usual after a long hiatus I like to strike back with a bang! Gonna be a post today until next Monday May 7th when I’ll be posting a review with Action Queen of the 80’s Sybil Danning. And, not only is it a riveting, informative interview (my favorite so far in fact), it also will feature some exclusive to BRWC Sybil Danning news and a little special info about yours truly.

In the mean time, here’s something a little different for you to partake of…

Confessions of an Extra: Sexploits on the Set of Hellraiser III
Aka The Virgin Spring of Eunyce Raye
An Allegedly True Story
Brought to you by well known Gay Rights Advocates, Chik Fil A

I normally don’t do gossip, or scandal, or anything too trashy (unless it’s entirely fabricated and utterly ridiculous) involving the Celebrities, Actors, Filmmakers and such that I love so much, because it isn’t REALLY my thing (that and I don’t want to get sued.)

But, when my Drag BFF Eunyce Raye implied that she had her cherry popped by a certain horror icon, known for looking like the world’s most evil sewing implement, I couldn’t resist.

Now, before we get to the meat of this sordid affair, which I’m sure is just making your mouth water and your nethers quiver, I will put a few things up front here:

One, while I believe this story whole heartedly, it may or may not be true (don’t sue us.)

Two, I mean no disrespect or harm to Doug Bradley, the actor who plays Pinhead in the Hellraiser films, at all. He is a talented thespian (far better than most of the projects he’s been associated with deserve) and is at least tangentially associated with the queers (and semi-out of the closet) by mere way of being in a Clive Barker created film series (among other things.)

Three, some names have been changed to protect the innocent and non-famous. (Please don’t sue us.)

Four, while the content and “facts” of the story are straight from the horse’s mouth (Eunyce) the execution of them is all me (as I felt to truly relay this to you it needed to have appropriate Harold Robbinsesque proseyness to it.)

With that out of the way, turn down the lights, turn up the heat and let the sexcapades begin!

It was the dead of Winter 1991, I was 16 years old, much thinner and much less Drag Queenish, cold and alone… Already I was taller and bigger than the other boys, a man on the outside really, but still a boy within. A boy longing, hoping… needing for that special moment, that special someone to come and open the petals of my tightly closed morning glory of Eros for the first time… and take me to the next plane of my (very limited, non-existent in fact) sexual awakening.

Alas, my, although thick and luxurious, floppy, Color Me Badd inspired Little Lord Fauntleroyesque locks weren’t winning me any favors with the local boys or men at the time (even though it seems every male who lived anywhere on Earth between 1989 and 1994 had to have the same cut at some point. It was mandatory in fact.) And, really, just being a young Gay man in the South, in the early nineties wasn’t exactly open season regardless… But, unknown to me then, my lack of small town action was about to change, for the better and… the more exotic.

It was announced that for the first time ever a Hellraiser film was to be made outside the United Kingdom! But, not only outside the United Kingdom, it would be made right here, next door to little old me, in High Point North Carolina!

Being a film, TV and music connoisseur such as I was, and still am, this was like a gift from God himself (granted a very unholy abomination of a gift, but still…) “A shocking, sexy, gory, strange, deranged, chain flying, skin ripping HELLRAISER film coming to the sticks, what could be better?” I’ll tell you. Not only were they to be shooting this prestige Hollywood film right within sight of my young eyes, they need local people, like me natch, to be in the damn thing! Tres chic. Tres chic, indeed.

Flyers began popping up all over asking for extras of all ages and types to come and try out. There would be pay. They would work around your schedule to a degree. And, it didn’t matter if you were underage as long as you had parental consent.

Star in a horror film, get paid for it, and it’s convenient? Count me in. And, mom agreed, so I really WAS in. (She even bought me the hideous green blouse I would later wear in the film, but that’s neither here nor there.)

After the casting calls everything began moving rather quickly. The crew jumped around to location after location in the area, hitting Charlotte, Winston Salem and even doing the exteriors of the infamous “Thou shalt not worship graven images” scene at the Immaculate Heart of Mary right up the street! It was all so very exciting. But, not as exciting as what happened next.

My scene, my close up, my time to stand in the blinding spotlight and forever capture my wondrous presence in full celluloid glory was at hand!
I, get this, was not only going to be a featured extra in the film’s massive Goth Club Murder Extravaganza, I was also going to get killed via CD to the forehead! What southern teenage gay boy could ask for more? All I hoped then, was that the CD of choice was something decent… Michael Jackson’s Dangerous, perhaps?

The ballroom of the Howard Johnson’s across the street from my house was dressed up like the beyond hardcore, dead baby bodies and razor wire covered, underground Los Angeles rave club it was supposed to be (ah, movie magic) and the lot of us yokels were piled in to the place, ready to work at pretending to party. Shooting the under ten minute “build up to the massacre” sequence took about a half a month to film. It was tedious, it was grueling, it was one of the most meticulous things I’ve ever been a part of, leading lady Terry Farrell was a major bitch, leading man Kevin Bernhardt was a sweetie (sadly straight, but he did buy us all pizza) and I wouldn’t trade a second of it for anything.

Murdering everyone in the club itself took another half a month to shoot, but this of course was the more fun thing to do (aside from the 5 or so hours a day in make-up), so it flew by a bit quicker. Plus, it meant I was getting closer to the big man himself… Pinhead. (And I got to watch the fascinating, pre-CGI days, art of effects creation up close and personal like.)

Side note, being a fan of the first two films in the series I had always found Pinhead oddly alluring. His voice, his outfit, the whole seedy sexual under and over currents of the Cenobites in general had occasionally stimulated me in ways I didn’t know I wanted to be stimulated. Not then, or now, am I really into anything too excessively kinky, certainly not to the extent of the movies, but… taking a walk on the dark side now and then isn’t a bad thing, is it?

Anyways, the day came. The day we’d all been waiting for. There we were, huddled together, putting on our best fear faces, looking off into the blackened recesses of the smoky set, waiting, breathless, for the appearance of HIM… And, disappoint he did not. From somewhere beyond the blinding haze of backlit, smoke machine fog, he descended into the midst of us mere mortals and I was transfixed…

Doug Bradley, when he’s in character as Pinhead, has this way of walking… no, gliding… that is truly a thing of beauty. He seems to float inches above the floor, seemingly of his own will… And, when he speaks, even out of character, his rich, tremulous, baritone voice was more than enough to set my teenage loins ablaze. “Take me! Take me now! I don’t care if it’s on set, in front of everyone, just take me!” I was screaming… in my head.

Sigh, if only this could be. But, surely the world’s most famous supernatural, cinematic, serial killer, under Freddy Krueger of course, must be a staunch heterosexual. And, even if he isn’t, whatever could he see in a small town boy like me… certainly not… his penis… right?

After my climatic denouement (sadly, frustratingly, cut from most commonly available prints of the film) was in the can I moseyed back into the Green room to take a break and grab a bite to eat, before heading back for the other angles and continued reshoots (of which there were many.) And, just as I had settled into place and put my feet up, Doug walked by the door.

I knew I had to act.

I ran out into the hall, trying to look as cool as possible (and probably failing) really, honestly, just to talk with him. I mean, this was most likely the only chance I was gonna get to have a face to face with a horror icon, so I might as well take it.

He was still in make-up, but otherwise, very pleasant. We talked for a bit, about nothing in particular, but enough to keep things going, and then he asked me to join him in his trailer, to continue the conversation…

Isn’t this how most Jackie Collins’ novels start?

Follow him I did of course and we did in fact continue talking, in a nice, friendly, very relaxed manner, as he began to remove his make-up (surprisingly easy, considering it was mostly latex appliances) and then… his costume…

Let me tell you, Pinhead must be part Irish, because there’s nothing on under his kilt honey. PLENTY going on (think, your average stable horse) but nothing physically on, if you catch my drift… Must get hot under all that pleather…

Much like it was getting hot in his trailer…

Doug, apparently sensing what I was thinking (desiring, hoping) asked me if I’d ever been with a man before. I said no. He asked me if I’d ever done anything at all. I said no, never. And then… he asked me… if I wanted to do everything… And… I said yes… And then… Then…

You remember the tagline to the first Hellraiser? “He’ll tear your soul apart!” Well, he tore my HOLE apart.

Not only that, but he took me around the world, more than once. He broke me in, showed me all the ropes and more. He made me a man that day, many times over in fact… And proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was indeed the finest choice to play Pinhead they possibly could have made… I’m not going to get into each and every of the particulars, those are best left for my fond memories, but it was very good, especially for my first time, for ANY first time I might add, and Doug was very kind.

So kind in fact, that one day, after our third or fourth rendezvous (don’t think anyone was kidding themselves about it being anything more than friendly fucking, cause they weren’t), sometime later, he decided to accompany me to my French Mid-Term, which I unfortunately had to take during the filming of some of the afformentioned numerous reshoots…
Picture this, if you can, Doug driving me to school, in a studio vehicle, he dressed and made up in full Pinhead accoutrements and I in my death, dead and dying appliances, covered from head to toe in fake blood.

Naturally this created a something of a scene.

Everyone we passed averted their eyes or screamed as we made our way across campus to the French Language building. Once inside my class it was a “Bonjour, Monsieur Jean.” From me and a “Allo oiseau-peche.” Back, without looking up. To be of note here, for those who don’t speak it, the teacher and classmates liked to call me “Peach bird.” Anyways, as I made my way to a desk at the rear of the room “Mr. John” finally looked up and spied not only me, but Doug taking a seat just behind me.

Mouth agape, jaw slack, eyes wide, “Mr. John” kindly asked that I take my test and work on it in the Library… on the other side of campus. Begrudgingly, I obliged.

Naturally, as Doug and I made our way, a good portion of the other exams were letting out, sending a parade of more ashen faces and stuttering voices our way. Once at the Library I tossed off a hearty “Hello Ms. Page.” To the chief librarian, sending her clattering to the floor in a swoon straight away. The second librarian came over and almost fainted herself when she saw Doug come in behind me, but thankfully didn’t. She did however send us off to a private room, to work. And, as luck would have it, Doug spoke fluent French, being the true man of the world he was. Also, as I was at least somewhat of a gentleman myself I didn’t cheat too bad, just enough to make a solid B.

After that I was admonished by the Principal a tad for being a “disruptive element” and forbade from ever coming to school in make-up again, but I didn’t care. That day, those couple of months, my time with Doug was some of the best of my life. And, who else can say they aced a French Exam with help from an Evil sexual demon that had just taken his V-Card?

Irony of ironies, they had a premiere some time later, in High Point, but none of us under aged cast members were allowed to attend because it was Rated R (if only they’d know about the X Rated goings on behind the scenes, eh?) And, every once and a while I’ll still get a residual check in the mail; it’s never much, enough to buy a couple packs of cigarettes… but, it always makes me smile and causes me to reminisce about that sweet, tender, sex ravaged winter in the halcyon days of my youth.

(The Scene in Question ^)

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