As an extra, I'm extremely agreeable. When the Grant Wilfley Casting Agency called to offer me a walk-on in the new Scorsese movie, I said yes to everything they asked.
"Yes, I think it'd be OK if I took three days off work."
"Yes, I'd definitely cut my hair for the part."
"Yes, I think I would be OK playing an SS soldier."
After I got off the phone, it was the final affirmation that left me with the most uncertainty. An SS soldier: History's harshest example of the evils of conformity. Would I be helping to glorify these monsters?
The casting agency sent us an e-mail about what to expect as extras. We were instructed not to wear jewelry of any kind, including watches and wedding rings. I soothed my wife by telling her that the only women in the scene we were filming would have shaved heads, be waifishly skinny, and made to look as battered as possible. Not really my type. We were also given descriptions and photos of the high and tight military haircuts we were to take to the barbers  – they specified not to go to salons. We would save our receipts and be reimbursed on set. The guys at Razor's in Somerville treated me like a star when I told them why I wanted what was essentially a Boys' Regular – one of the first haircuts a barber learns, but hardly ever gives.
As I drove to an ambiguous office building in Medfield to be fitted for my costume, I wondered if the neighboring coffee shop had any idea they were outfitting a Nazi army next door. Photos from the liberation of Dachau hung on the wall. There were fatigued American G.I.s, emaciated concentration camp victims and SS soldiers, some of whom were surrendering, others who tried to hide in prisoners' clothes, their healthy glows and guilty gazes giving them away.
A woman measured me and outfitted me with a jacket with a swastika on it.
This was already more intense than standing in my own clothes in the same spot on a subway car for two nights for "Departed." But as I know first-hand, working with Scorsese is never the same thing twice.