I was walking through the door to Angell Hall one day a few weeks ago as a young man and woman walked out. With a casual flip of his tousled hair and a confident gaze through his Woody Allen-esque glasses, he said to her, “They told me absolutely no hipster clothes. Nothing even resembling hipster is allowed.”

The student was talking about the same event that lured a lot of us who were stuck on campus during Spring Break: the chance to be an extra in “Betty Anne Waters,” a drama about a working mother who earns her law degree to defend her brother. If you were in Ann Arbor over break, you might have noticed the huge trailers blocking an entire side of State Street and the fluorescent pink signs with bold arrows helping the film crew navigate campus.

I was surprised and then intrigued by the casting e-mail forwarded to me by my advisor in early February. With a “why the hell not?” attitude, I sent in my headshot, age and contact information. A few weeks later, I received notice that I had been selected to be one of the anonymous people necessary to produce a large-scale movie. So on Feb. 24, I showed up for the 2 p.m. crew call, dressed in the requisite “90s law school attire” and ready to be a blurry face in the background of any scene that needed me.

Being an extra meant more to me than the possibility of meeting the stars of the film, two-time Academy Award winner Hilary Swank and Emmy Award-nominated Minnie Driver, and I didn’t harbor any whimsical dream of being picked out of the crowd for instant stardom. I simply wanted to be on the movie set. In comparison to my own experience working for the student-run M-agination Films, I wanted to see how bigger companies make make multi-million dollar films, what equipment they use and how the director interacts with his crew and cast. But my romantic side also knew that I just wanted to be a part of it that exciting, mysterious and glamorous movie industry that has shaped so much of American culture and my own life. I wanted to be “in the movies”.

Considering my enthusiasm, it was a little jarring to arrive at the crew call and find a lot of people standing listlessly around, looking confused and lost or gloating about their non-hipster clothes. Having brought a book and some snacks, I settled in for the long haul. From my experience with film, a ton of set-up and technical adjustment needs to happen before the scene is ready to shoot. I looked around at the rest of the extras. Some I knew from campus, but a lot of people seemed older than your typical undergrad. It was strange to be in such a familiar setting with none of the people who made it familiar.

Our ‘90s garb had a strange effect. Gone were the social cues that allow you to judge someone at first sight. Even though we were only extras, we were all in on the charade of “Betty Anne Waters.” Our appearances were no longer an expression of ourselves but props in the movie. We weren’t people anymore; we were little more than “large ficus tree, stage left.”

As the day wore on, a few randomly selected groups were called in to film before a vigorous shout of “ROLLING!” would silence the rest of us. A woman from the film crew nicknamed Pittsburgh told us where to go and when. The gracious extra herder told us that our complimentary lunch would be arriving soon and expressed how appreciative the crew was of the large number of extras that came out. Other than that, we were left to our own quiet devices for hours. I waited patiently with my book, which I occasionally used as a cover for people-watching and eavesdropping. One girl behind me gushed about her acting experience — she used to do pageants and had realized at a young age that acting was her life’s calling. The girl’s friend listened absentmindedly while reading for her law school class. Another extra who had made friends with a security guard entertained himself by borrowing the guard’s crew ID and pretending to direct his fellow extras: “Can you carry that notebook in your left hand? No … maybe the right … No, definitely the left. OK, yeah, that’s good. Don’t mind me, guys, I’m just looking for the right person.” Meanwhile, the clock ticked on.

Finally, at 6:30 p.m., the crew announced they would be filming the final scene of the day and that anyone who hadn’t been in a shot yet would be needed. I waited in line at the exit of our holding hall. In small groups, we filed into the lecture-hall-turned-movie-set across the corridor. When I entered, a man directed me to sit in the second row. More people filtered in and were told to act like they were coming to the start of class, to make small talk as they came in and sat down. About 10 of the crew assembled at the front, making adjustments here and there, listening attentively to director Tony Goldwyn or waiting around until their specific job was required.

Then, Minnie Driver walked in.