Former Warrior Turns Into A Million-Dollar Actor [EN]: Chapter 141

The World Stage (4)

*

On the outskirts of Gyeonggi Province.

In a training facility devoid of trainees, two men sat facing each other, cracking open bottles of cheap soju [Korean distilled rice liquor].

One was in his forties with graying hair, the other younger, but both looked worn.

“Those damn bastards, they’re backing out after all.”

Their snack was dried pollack. The older man tore off a piece, chewing it angrily as he spoke.

The other man, Kim Yang-ho, whose graying hair was receding, replied bitterly.

“Isn’t that how they always are? They treat stuntmen like disposable parts.”

“Contacting you, hyung [older brother or respected male figure], that’s crossing the line! How can that bastard Lee Bok-dong even suggest working together again, especially when it’s supposed to be a professional double this time?”

Kim Yang-ho, a retired stuntman, poured himself another shot of soju.

Perhaps it was because he was reduced to drinking cheap liquor in the middle of the day, but the taste felt particularly bitter.

“They must be desperate. To come crawling back after ending things like that.”

The story goes back several years. Before his retirement, Kim Yang-ho was the most famous stuntman in the industry, a walking action encyclopedia.

He was skilled with his body, and his action consulting, based on a thorough understanding of various martial arts, was renowned.

There was even a saying: ‘Korean action movies can’t be blockbusters without Kim Yang-ho.’

“Absolutely not. My joints and bones are already wrecked. They’ll put me in front and take all the credit for the dangerous stuff, won’t they?”

“Probably. The lead is Jung Yeon-pil, so our age and build match.”

“Bullshit… Forget it, I’d rather teach kids than give those bastards advice.”

After a few drinks, several bottles were empty. The junior stuntman, flushed with alcohol, asked.

“Don’t you get calls from anywhere else? What about those Hollywood guys who were interested before?”

“Not anymore. Why would they look for a washed-up guy when a blockbuster movie is riding high?”

“Ah, that damn Kill Thorn.”

It’s human nature to be jealous when your cousin buys land, and to feel sick when your neighbor wins the lottery with the ticket you threw away. The junior poured soju into an empty cup.

“That stunt team’s company is sitting on a gold mine, they say. If things had gone well for you, hyung, you could be there right now.”

“It wasn’t just us who were doing that.”

“Modesty, modesty. Even if we were late to the game, we would have been the best in Korea! Speaking of which, that ‘Gun-Jitsu’ thing, wasn’t that what you were trying to do, hyung?”

In the past, Hollywood action was all about striking. Directors preferred exciting fights over realistic combat, which they found boring to film.

By choreographing flashy moves and shaking the camera with a handheld technique, they created action scenes that met audience expectations.

Meanwhile, ‘Team Beomseon,’ led by Kim Yang-ho, was obsessed with something different.

They aimed to enhance the perfection of martial arts in movies with simplicity within the flashiness, and more practical action.

However… it wasn’t easy.

‘Uh… this might be a bit difficult? I know Director Kim’s skills, but the audience might not like it…’

‘What is this? I came here to make a movie, not to dedicate my life to training. If you’re going to make a martial arts movie, go do it yourself.’

‘I’m sorry, Director, but Actor Yang said he absolutely can’t do that scene…’

To create a higher level of quality, you naturally have to put in that much effort. Neither the actors nor the directors welcomed Kim Yang-ho’s ideas.

Firstly, because of the bland-looking results, and secondly, because of the burden it placed on them.

‘And, times have changed now.’

Just as the exaggerated action of Hong Kong movies faded into history, audiences want something new.

Wasn’t it because of this that ‘Kill Thorn’s’ action, which combined gunfights calculating the number of bullets with Jiu-Jitsu, was writing a new history?

Kim Yang-ho poured soju.

“Skills are useless if they can’t shine. Gathering talented actors is also a talent.”

That’s the truth. Korean movies were ridiculed on YouTube for not getting anything right, from the grip to the historical accuracy of gunfights.

Unless they were detail freaks with capital like the production team of ‘Kill Thorn,’ there’s nothing a retired stunt team head can do.

“Oh, is anyone there?”

At that moment, the door to the center opened, and a voice was heard. Soon, several men entered.

“Ah, are you Mr. Kim? It’s good to see you. The timing is perfect.”

Despite asking if anyone was there, the man in a suit who confidently pushed open the door and entered spoke glibly.

“Excuse me, I’m Yoo Joon-il, the head of Roman Entertainment. I left a message a few days ago… but since there was no reply, I took the liberty of coming here.”

Kim Yang-ho exchanged glances with his junior and blinked. There were hundreds of unread messages piled up on his phone.

“Do we have to visit members one by one like this in Korea? It’s not very efficient.”

The white man who followed behind grumbled in English, but they didn’t pay attention.

Kim Yang-ho’s eyes widened when he saw the last person.

“…Actor Park Geon?”

“Nice to meet you, Team Leader Kim Yang-ho.”

Even though he was retired, there was no way he wouldn’t know the actor who had been rewriting history for the past few years.

Park Geon, who entered with his manager, bowed to the two men and said.

“I’ve heard a lot about you from Martial Arts Director Hyun Do-gyun. He said you’re a legend in the stunt world who was ahead of his time.”

“Oh… I don’t know about that. Did that guy hit his head while filming a project or something?”

Kim Yang-ho burst into a hearty laugh, but the Cannes award winner in front of him didn’t smile.

…Was he being serious? The stuntman, who was starting to get flustered, heard words he hadn’t heard in a long time.

“There’s a project I’d like to work on with you.”

*

“Seon-yi, it’s today, right?”

Yoo Joon-il, who was driving, asked.

Park Seon-yi, who had been kicked out of the driver’s seat despite trying to drive as a senior colleague, replied from the passenger seat.

“Yes. Director Raymond said everyone should be gathered around today. Those who aren’t coming will be sourced locally or will crawl back when the project starts.”

“Ha, that guy’s way of speaking is so blunt.”

Yoo Joon-il let out a hollow laugh.

Two weeks had passed since Director Gwyn Raymond entered the country and visited Roman’s headquarters.

His actions during that time were surprisingly quiet.

He scouted a retired stuntman… someone old enough to have seen it all, and after that, he completely lost interest in the Korean staff.

“He said he didn’t have his own team, but besides Director Kim, he didn’t call anyone else, right?”

“Yes, as far as I know.”

“I guess he’s a foreigner through and through. It seems like he’s trying to summon everyone to Korea first.”

“I think so. It’s my first time having my brother work on a foreign director’s project, so…”

It’s true that the director’s actions were somewhat different from what they knew. He doesn’t even schedule meetings with domestic production companies or investors.

He only left one sentence, ‘They’ll all come when they smell something,’ and has been holed up in a rented studio all day with Park Geon and Kim Yang-ho.

“Didn’t Actor Park tell Seon-yi anything else? Like he’s rewriting the script, or something?”

Park Seon-yi, who was tilting her head, said.

“My brother hasn’t been home much lately… Ah, he did ask me to get some things over the phone on the first day.”

“Things? What things?”

“An airsoft gun that shoots BB bullets. He asked for all kinds, so I brought them right away.”

This time, Yoo Joon-il’s brow furrowed.

“…Is he really doing some kind of training?”

*

In the center of Seoul,

A multi-purpose studio rented for a short period.

People of various nationalities gathered in that place, which was decorated like a tactical headquarters.

“Yo, Raymond.”

“Long time no see, Hicks.”

“Can’t you see me? It’s been over ten years, have you forgotten my face?”

“What are you talking about, Jack? I was just pretending not to notice your receding hairline because I felt sorry for you.”

“Thanks, go eat shit.”

A middle-aged man with a bald head exchanged harsh greetings and then laughed heartily.

White, Black, Hispanic… Gwyn Raymond, the general director of this film, welcomed the diverse group.

Of course, the leading actor who transcends language barriers couldn’t be left out.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Park Geon.”

“Geon? Machine gun?”

“Just call me God.”

A large black man, looking suspicious as if wondering how a person’s name could be a gun, snapped his fingers.

“If it’s God… isn’t that the name of the script Raymond sent? The protagonist’s name is God too.”

“That’s right, how was your trip?”

Raymond, introducing the people next to Park Geon, naturally took over the conversation.

The black man made a sound like a grumpy donkey.

“Economy is small and cramped. Washington to Korea is damn far. It felt like being tortured inside a drum.”

“Thanks for coming. You won’t regret the hardship once you get to know this friend.”

“Ah, the protagonist of Cannes?”

The black man, looking at Park Geon with interest, said he was looking forward to it and went to where the others were.

After a while, officials from Roman also arrived and exchanged greetings with those gathered.

Park Seon was surprised by the faces of the people, as if she didn’t know so many would gather.

“Director, do you know everyone?”

Raymond nodded.

“I couldn’t have called them here otherwise. They’re staff who have worked with me more than once.”

“Then the script is…”

“I sent it to everyone and told them to come because I found the perfect lead for it. I said I’d pay for the plane ticket even if they didn’t work together, so they came running.”

Raymond, who said something that was hard to tell whether it was a joke or the truth, tapped the table a few times with the back of his hand.

“Okay, everyone pay attention.”

The gazes of the people who were talking in groups of two or three, familiar with each other, gathered.

“First of all, thank you for coming all the way to this distant place. You’re all worthy of being my old brothers.”

“Who’s your brother? We just came here to work.”

When someone said mischievously, laughter spread throughout the studio.

Raymond shrugged as if it didn’t matter.

“Good point. Then we can talk about work right away, anyway, you’ve all seen the script.”

The people looked at each other. Lighting, filming, martial arts, shooting… Although the races and ages were different, all of them were professionals in their respective fields.

From the beginning, the fact that they ran all the way to this place meant trust in the director… or interest in the script.

A man who appeared to be Hispanic raised his hand.

“When does filming start?”

Raymond answered immediately.

“Since we’re roughly gathered, probably within this month? We plan to exclude all the scenes to be filmed in Korea.”

“What’s the overall schedule?”

“Under 2 years, 1 year if possible. It’s doable enough unless we’re just hunting for famous places, aren’t all the people here professionals?”

“Don’t praise us, we all know you’re going to make us do terribly hard work again.”

When Sammy, a black man who had greeted Park Geon earlier, spoke in a thick English accent, laughter spread again.

This time, a small red-haired white man asked.

“We’ll need a training period. Is our protagonist from Cannes ready?”

Raymond looked at the actor next to him with a strange expression. As if it had already been promised, Park Geon began to take out equipment from a long sports bag.

“······.”

In the silence, model weapons appeared on the table one by one.

As airsoft guns, as well as training pistols, rifles, and shotguns that can fire paintballs or rubber bullets, came out, a strange sense of anticipation flowed through the hall.

Seeing is believing.

A single demonstration is more certain than a hundred explanations, regardless of East or West.

Raymond, who smiled faintly, gestured.

“See for yourself.”

* * *