The Life and Death of 9413, a Hollywood Extra

Experimental - but accessible - movie describing the hardships of life as an extra in Hollywood that skilfully disguises the fact that it cost only $97 to make.

Miniature expressionist sets are the real star of Life & Death of 9413: A Hollywood Extra (1927), & render this partially a work of animation. It's on the National Registry as a work of cultural significance.

The thirteen-minute story symbolically criticized the maltreatment of Hollywood extras.

Our naive hero, John Jones (Jules Raucourt), arrives in Art Deco Hollywood all smiles & dreams.

He has a letter of introduction that gets him hired by a casting agent (Robert Florey being quite antic in the film he wrote & co-directed).

As an extra he's known thereafter as 9413, the number being printed right on his forehead. Now begins the endless wait for his number to come up.

Other numbers become automatons with fading dreams, but 9413 struggles to remain an individual.

Earning no money, falling deeper in debt for his rent, he is slowly starving to death, while imagining he is surrounded by scorpions.

At last he dies, but continues dreaming even in his coffin. He dreams he is ascending to heaven, or perhaps he really is ascending in the form of a heroic paper cut-out silhouette. In the firmament he becomes a shining star, with wings.

Reportedly filmed for $97.00, one reason it looks so incredible is thanks to cinematographer Gregg Toland, who went on to such amazing camera work on films like Citizen Kane.

Prolific television and second feature director Robert Florey teamed with Gregg Toland and others to produce this dark short around the advent of sound. It's a rather acerbic comic work that suggests instead of going west young man, better to stay put.

An optimistic fellow sets his sight on Hollywood stardom and takes Greeley's advice. Starting in at the bottom floor he is assigned an impersonal number for identification. Dehumanization of the spirit follows as reality sets in, employment wavers and bills pile up.

This avant garde word to the wise features some sharp camera work, dissolves and double exposure for its day. Well edited, it has a tragi-comic touch that remains unrelenting in its condemnation of the industry. A deceptively disturbing work in miniature.

This short experimental film tells the story of a man (Jules Raucourt) who comes to Hollywood to become a star, only to find himself branded a lonely extra.

There is clearly talent behind this little-known film. Robert Florey, better known for "Murders in the Rue Morgue", directs. And his cinematographer is none other than Gregg Toland, who was the eyes behind many a major success, including "Citizen Kane".

This short shows that even as early as 1928, Hollywood had an appeal and glamor that would draw people in, only to be chewed up and spit out by the system. Actors are a dime a dozen... and while no picture would be complete without extras, they are nothing to the audience.

If you ever want to know when Hollywood became such a stressful place, where people gave up their lives to be a star, usually with no return, this little short can point you to way back in the silent era.

This little heavy-handed sequence deserves a lot of respect for its experimental uses of models, lighting, and different camera techniques at the time. Today it comes off as a bit heavy handed, a bit too obvious. Even when you know what's they're doing or trying to do, you can't help but giggle: "Heh, those are models!" Still, they're interestingly designed models.

A lot of the stuff working around actors and characters would have been really strong if it wasn't really so comical (which doesn't really work within the structure of the film because the film itself is rather dark and direct). The fish-out-of-water way they open and close their mouths and the over-acting does help to give the film an absurdist feel, but it also helps to not take the film very seriously.

--PolarisDiB