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Jill Goldston recently moved into a bright apartment located at the former Teddington television studios in the south-west area of London. Despite her recent move, she has already displayed two items in her new home. One is her Guinness World Records certificate for having the most appearances as an extra or background actress. The other is a poster for the documentary short “Jill, Uncredited,” which has brought attention to her career. Over a cup of tea at her dining room table, Jill reflects on her successful and enjoyable journey in the film industry. She describes it as self-indulgent, as she was paid to have fun and found the people she worked with to be fascinating.
At the age of 80 and full of energy, Goldston was born in the same area in 1943, close to Twickenham Studios where iconic British films like The Italian Job were produced. She discovered her passion for dancing at the young age of three and at 15, she left her home to join the Butlin’s revue company. Her decision was not because she didn’t love her parents, who she adored, but because she craved adventure. Leaving a note for her parents, she embarked on this exciting journey. It was at Butlin’s where she met her husband, Geoff, and they recently celebrated their 60th wedding anniversary. However, when I congratulate her, she casually responds, “I think it’s a lack of imagination.” But in other aspects of her life, she has more than made up for this perceived deficiency.
Jill was able to enjoy the excitement of 1960s Soho thanks to the security of her stable relationship. She even had the opportunity to dance at Murray’s with Mandy Rice-Davies during the Profumo affair. Murray’s was a popular nightspot frequented by celebrities, and it was there that a society osteopath and a showgirl met, leading to events that would ultimately lead to the downfall of Harold Macmillan’s government. Although some of her friends attended extravagant parties at Cliveden every weekend, Jill was told that it wasn’t really her scene.
Ignoring any scandals that may have occurred sixty years ago, Goldston learned two valuable lessons as a background artist. The first was how to remain calm in the presence of movie stars, and the second was that it was much more enjoyable to bask in the indirect spotlight rather than being directly in its harsh glare. Goldston had no desire for fame, having witnessed the negative effects it had on others who craved it. At the suggestion of a colleague from Murray’s, Goldston tried out extra work and found it to be a smooth and easy experience, despite warnings of intense competition.
During the making of the 1969 war comedy “The Virgin Soldiers,” she formed a strong connection with another background actor. They reunited over a decade later on the set of the 1982 TV movie “Baal,” where the former extra, David Bowie, had now become a top-billed actor. He recognized her and they shared a meal in the canteen, discussing ordinary topics.
Other celebrities that Jill approved of included former James Bond actor Timothy Dalton: “He didn’t have a good relationship with his co-star Joanne Whalley, so I ended up doing the love scenes with him. I used to pray, ‘Please, God, don’t let my hands sweat when he holds them!'” She also had a positive experience with Michael Caine: “He kindly covered my head with his jacket to keep me dry in the rain. A true gentleman.” Jill also had a good opinion of Warren Beatty, although she recalls him trying to proposition her for a threesome involving himself and Jack Nicholson while producing, directing, and starring in the 1981 film Reds. “It could have potentially gone beyond friendship. But not with Jack Nicholson as well! I politely declined, saying: ‘Sorry, no. I am happily married!'”
As Jill became more busy, her husband Geoff, who is trained as an accountant, wrote down her performances in chronological order, including her 1,951st appearance which set a record. This list is now used by Jill to help her remember specific details, such as the number of Carry On films she was a part of (“around 80%”), the atmosphere on the set of the first episode of EastEnders (“it was a party scene at the Old Vic and the producer wanted her dog Roly to be involved”), and the title of her very first performance in a 1963 film called Just for Fun, which could be seen as the theme for her entire career.
The husband-created list caught the attention of 32-year-old filmmaker Anthony Ing. While researching archive footage for another project, Ing became curious about the people in the background of train stations and political rallies, often only briefly shown or out of focus. He wanted to know who they were and what their lives were like. After coming across Jill’s impressive resume on a thread titled “Oh, There You Are!” on the online forum Britmovie, the two met in person. From there, Ing embarked on a meticulous and almost romantic mission to comb through decades of screen history in search of his fixation.
Ing describes his process of compiling clips for his film, “A Clockwork Orange,” as repeatedly going through the movie in search of a specific frame. Despite the small moments captured in the clips, Ing feels a personal connection to the characters. He is drawn in by patterns and is reminded of flicking through old photos of a deceased loved one. This nostalgic feeling is captured perfectly in Jill, Uncredited, which serves as both a unique biography and a tribute to the often overlooked craftspeople behind the scenes.
Jill also finds this aspect significant. “Extras are at the bottom and you never interact with a star unless they initiate it. We’ve been instructed: ‘Tom Cruise is about to appear on set. Please avoid making eye contact.'” She has always found the strict hierarchy on set more comical than belittling. “I had a sense of value, being part of the film. Films would be quite dull without extras. You could get on a train and there would be no one else there!”
In the end, pretending to be a waitress for a day was more enjoyable and lucrative than actually working as a waitress every day. She was able to only work 10 days a month, which must have been convenient while raising a family. “I was not a great mother. I was actually a terrible mother,” she admits. “Casting agents would call and ask about my son’s age, and I would just tell them whatever age they wanted him to be.”
Jill takes pride in her son, James Goldston, who is now a television executive in Washington DC. She often joins him at prestigious events, such as dinner with the Obamas, despite her initial concerns about dragging her son to film sets when he was young. She even boasts about being one of the few extras to attend the Oscars.
Reworded: The roles were reversed last year when James was asked by Jill to join her at the premiere of her film “Uncredited” for moral support. Initially, James was nervous and expected the theater to be empty. However, those fears disappeared once he arrived at the Berlin film festival and he ended up thoroughly enjoying the experience. It wasn’t as strange as one might think to see 50 years of her life condensed into just 18 minutes on screen. Instead, she found it interesting to watch the people around her in the background and was delighted to see familiar faces again.
Source: theguardian.com
