Some people are shy. Actors, generally, are not.
A certain actor, let’s call him “Mick Molte,” would regularly show up on set wearing nothing but a T-shirt and a pair of pajama pants with the crotch worn through. And when I write, “nothing but,” I’m including underwear.
(I must admit that I didn’t witness this behavior myself; I didn’t join that production until later.)
An actress on my current show has several tattoos that need to be covered whenever she wears a revealing dress (which is often). My friend has “unintentionally” walked in on this process a number of times. I should point out that make up trailers have more mirrors than a disco ball.
I have a one up on him, though. Unfortunately.
I was working on a terrible little horror movie. The scene required the actress to jump out of her bed and sprint for the door. Sadly, the set walls were hanging from the ceiling, and the slightest touch would send them crashing to the ground.
The AD needed someone to catch her before she slammed into the wall, destroying the set and thus costing the production tens of dollars. I happened to be standing there, so I drew the short straw.
I once again tried the, “But I’m married!” excuse, and once again got shot down with, “That’s why you’ll be less grabby.”
Oh, so mistaken.
So, the director calls, “Action!”, the actress lunges at me, I throw up my hands to catch her, and…
Grab her boob.
(Or, more accurately, Dow Corning’s boob.)
I felt really bad, and apologized profusely, but she said don’t worry about it. “It happens all the time.”
(And don’t worry, I apologized to my wife, and her real boobs, when I got home.)