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So I’ve been milking this whole “Eric is a Hollywood superstar” thing for a couple days, based on my seconds-long cameo in “The Crazies.” But now as the horror flick, about a town accidentally infected with a government-engineered bio weapon that turns everyone into crazy-eyed killas, opens on Friday, it’s time to tell the true story of my time on set.
Last April I flew down to Atlanta at the behest of Overture Films, who’d offered me the chance to stop covering film for a day and actually be in one. From there I took a two-hour drive south to Peach County, Georgia, otherwise known as No, Seriously, It’s The Middle of Nowhere Y’all. If you happened to be under the illusion that being an actor is a glamorous profession, I am here to disabuse you of that notion: it is slow, repetitive and, if you happen to be filming in rural Georgia during an unseasonably winter-like chill, really cold.
To begin, I spend three hours in a trailer with makeup effects guru Robert Hall and his three assistants. After donning a wide-necked t-shirt and having my hair pinned back, they set to work gluing on latex strips to mimic bulging veins and bloody protrusions. The “Crazies” infection is modeled on the real world effects of Ebola and tetanus, which lots of blood, puss and general gruesomeness. With the latex in place, the artists begin airbrushing on color, painting veins, applying fake blood, dirtying my teeth and nails. The finishing touch is an enormous yellow contact lens.
“I want more puss!” I joke to Hall when I finally look in the mirror.

He doesn’t seem to think I’m kidding, and gets a big smile on his face as he gifts me with some seriously bloody boogers and a lovely streak of blood streaming down my ear and across my neck. A quick visit to wardrobe, where I’m given a shirt caked with the nastiest boogers in the history of snotty noses, and a visit with a hair stylist and I’m ready for my close-up.
The scene takes place in a high school that’s been commandeered by the government in an attempt to institute a military quarantine on the infected town. I play one of the infected Crazies, locked away in a classroom as star Radha Mitchell is brought in. Yup, to my great pleasure, I learn that Radha and I will be sharing a scene. We actually end up sharing a moment, you might say, as she is whisked by on a gurney and I scream like a banshee at her. We lock eyes. It is movie magic.
But it took a while to get there. Seven takes, in fact. Before the first take, director Breck Eisner comes in and tells me I need to throw myself against a glass window, yell a line at the top of my lungs and vomit some fake blood before a guard in a hazmat suit pulls me away. A stunt coordinator stops by to teach me how to fake an impact without breaking any bones. Production folks communicating via in-ear devices tell me to get ready. And….action!
I don’t scream, I hit the window, I drool out some fake blood and collapse. Total disaster. Breck comes back and tells me to remember to yell a line.
“What line?” I ask.
“Just make up something cool!” he tells me.
Second take: I unleash a wicked series of f-bombs.
Breck comes back. “Easy there, Samuel L. Jackson. Tone it down just a bit.”
Third take: I decide on my line: “Let me go! Let me out of here!” Only problem is I’m late making it to the window and the camera’s already passed me by. The crew seems to be getting antsy. I can only imagine what Radha is thinking as she has to suffer through take after take. It’s 2 a.m. and there’s a long night still ahead and I’m the amateur making everyone’s life more difficult. I apologize. I apologize some more. Breck comes in asking for more blood. A makeup guy pours what feels like a pint of fake blood into my mouth. It is syrupy and sweet and by now it’s starting to make me nauseous. But I push forward, because I am a professional actor. And I count myself lucky. The makeup guy is super helpful, wiping away the blood with a tissue after each take and even moistening my yellow contact lens from time to time. But I feel horrible for the guy playing the guard in my scene. He’s been wearing this green hazmat suit with a giant hood and plastic mask for hours. He can’t hear, can’t breath and is sweating like a pig. For his sake, I want to nail the scene and let the guy get some fresh air.
Fourth take: I spew blood like a geyser.
“Maybe less blood,” Breck suggests.
The rest of the takes go smoothly. Breck ushers me over to a monitor to watch the money take. “Dude, pretty sweet,” he says as I head back to the makeup chair for the hour it takes to return me from Crazy to MTV Movies writer.

For one last look into Eric’s transformation from MTV staff writer to prima donna Hollywood movie star, enjoy the special MTV interview with the man, the myth, the legend, Mr. Eric Ditzian, below:
