Former Warrior Turns Into A Million-Dollar Actor [EN]: Chapter 40

A Strange Sense of Déjà Vu (2)

* * *

“Cut!”

As soon as Director Kim Ryul gave the signal, the warehouse door opened. To create a realistic scene, they had rented an actual refrigerated container and trailer. Staff members rushed to the actors as they emerged, offering hot packs and warm water.

“Were you very cold? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. It’s just that I was lying down, so this area is a bit…”

“Ah, you got chafed. I’ll put some frostbite ointment on it for you.”

In most filming locations, it would be bustling with stylists and managers, but most of the actors here were in minor roles.

Naturally, they wouldn’t have managers, so they had to take care of each other if the staff didn’t.

“Lee Jang-mi.”

Director Kim Ryul called out to Lee Jang-mi, who was staggering out from the back.

“Here, put this shirt on.”

Lee Jang-mi hadn’t yet snapped out of her role. She blankly stared at her bare arms, which had turned blue, seemingly oblivious to the cold, before accepting the clothes.

Another actor, watching from afar, clicked his tongue.

“She’s the type to suffer a lot.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“Lee Jang-mi is half method. She gets so into the role that she can’t pull herself out. If no one takes care of that kind of acting, the actor’s lifespan will shorten drastically.”

Method acting.

A method of acting that became famous after foreign directors popularized guidelines, where the actor becomes one with the role and imitates the character’s behavior even in everyday life.

If the Guwonhoe [Salvation Society] cult leader appeared on set, chaos would ensue, but Lee Jang-mi doesn’t call her colleagues by their character names or wield prop knives.

She simply becomes the Guwonhoe cult leader herself when the camera is rolling, and when it’s not, she remains isolated and distant.

Another actor tilted his head.

“But is that really method acting… or is she just concentrating alone because she doesn’t have any friends?”

*

Lunch break.

It would be nice if a warm food truck came, but there’s a budget and no time.

The filming, which was supposed to take three months, is being squeezed into two, and the 10-hour shoots are being cut to six, so the set is always rushed. Instead of a food truck, they often load up on bulk-ordered lunch boxes in a Starex van [a popular minivan in Korea] and hand them out.

“Ah, another lunch box?”

“Be grateful they’re giving us anything. Last year, you know that YTS historical drama? On that set, we were lucky to even get convenience store sandwiches.”

“That’s because the writers were crazy and only the staff suffered… Anyway, let’s eat, let’s eat and get it done!”

The complaints were brief as the staff eagerly pounced on the lunch boxes, tearing open their chopsticks.

Steaming multigrain rice, spam kimchi stir-fry, and hearty yukgaejang [spicy beef soup] filled with bracken and beef.

Staff and actors gathered in groups of three or five to eat, but even then, there were outsiders.

“······.”

Lee Jang-mi opened her lunch box. Actors who immerse themselves deeply in their roles, especially those playing villains, are in a constantly sensitive state.

At first, the staff took care of her, but now they just leave her alone. With her unsociable personality and no manager to care for her, she naturally became isolated.

Just then, light footsteps approached.

“Excuse me. Is this seat taken?”

Lee Jang-mi’s gaze lifted. …A puppy? Park Geon’s manager stood there with a bright smile like the dog on his T-shirt, holding a lunch box.

“It is, so just go eat somewhere else.”

“Ehh, why?”

Lee Jang-mi tossed out her usual response to Park Seon, who asked with wide eyes.

“You should be taking care of your actor.”

“I’m here, though.”

This time, a voice came from behind. While Lee Jang-mi flinched, Park Geon nonchalantly took a seat next to her.

“Let’s eat together. We were bored because no one was eating with us.”

“That’s right, even the director is eating with other directors today… After all, meals are best with three or more people!”

This was absurd. The Park Geon and Park Seon brothers were the mood makers of the set.

The younger brother was so sociable and kind, and the older brother was surprisingly friendly with an odd sense of humor.

Anyone could see that they were here to take care of her, but she couldn’t exactly chase away people who had brought their lunch.

Lee Jang-mi picked up her chopsticks, and her eyes widened slightly when she saw Park Geon’s lunch box.

“…Are you going to eat all that?”

“Yes. I only brought a little because I thought there might not be enough today.”

She couldn’t understand how he was holding it all. Just looking at what was written on the containers, there were three yukgaejangs and five servings of rice. The PD [Production Director] said the actor was supplementing the food expenses with his own money… Was that not a joke, but the truth?

“Where’s the next schedule?”

“Uh… maybe Gwacheon? Director Kim said he secured a location there.”

“I’ll drive when we go. You can sleep in the back.”

“Hyung [older brother], are you trying to fire me? I’m your manager!”

Listening to their casual chatter, she felt a little better.

Lee Jang-mi mechanically moved her spoon, glancing at the brothers.

Envy was overlaid with a bit of curiosity. If the younger brother was the manager, wouldn’t there be any inconveniences? They joined the agency together, so how would the pay be divided…?

“Your acting has gotten better. Compared to the reading.”

Park Geon suddenly turned to her. The mountain of a lunch box had already been emptied.

“…Thank you. You too, Park Geon.”

“It’s because the script is good, I guess.”

Come to think of it, they didn’t talk much during the reading either. She tensed up, wondering if he was going to bring up the casting, but Park Geon closed his lunch box.

“I look forward to working with you in the future. And don’t stay out in the cold too much.”

With those words, a checkered flannel shirt was draped over her shoulders. It was Director Kim Ryul’s clothes, which had been lying around.

“Hyung, do you want some coffee? Jang-mi, would you like some too?”

Park Seon asked cheerfully.

In the distance, the staff were gathered around the electric water heater that PD Han Sang-yoon had brought, making coffee.

“Ah, I’ll go get it…”

“No. The tallest person goes in these situations.”

“Hey, wait! If that’s the case, we should play rock-paper-scissors!”

The actor who stood up strode away, followed by his manager.

Lee Jang-mi’s gaze fell to the lunch box. A faint smile appeared on her lips, which had been stiff the whole time.

“…I haven’t even said I’d have any yet.”

*

What is the worst situation on a film set?

A location schedule falling through? Sudden rain or unexpected weather conditions? External factors?

No. Those things don’t have a significant impact on internal solidarity.

What affects the atmosphere of the set, and even disrupts it, with a small flutter of wings is endless NGs [No Good takes; outtakes].

“Cut. Let’s go again.”

Park Geon has virtually no NGs in either ‘Seoul Hound’ or ‘Black Exorcists’. All the reshoots were because the scene had to be retaken.

It would be nice if everyone else could get it in one take, but unfortunately, that’s not often the case.

“Cut, let’s go again.”

Third time.

“Cut, again.”

Fourth time.

“Cut, let’s take a ten-minute break.”

The words to take a break finally came out.

The scene they were filming now was a multi-on-one battle scene between Park Geon and the possessed.

The supporting actor who had to fight Park Geon was unable to properly embody his possession and kept making mistakes.

“Alright, everyone gets a ten-minute break!”

“Have some water, actor.”

Park Geon, who was playing Seo Yo-han, nonchalantly wiped away his sweat, and the actor who caused the NG accepted a bottle of water and lowered his head like a sinner.

That damn possession, possession is the problem.

If the possessed person is awkward, the entire scene becomes ridiculous. No matter how much the director massages the camera, it can’t be saved.

“······.”

The wrinkles etched on Kim Ryul’s forehead deepened.

The staff were comforting him over there, but the actor had already lost his mind.

In this situation, even the most talented director has no answer. Should they just skip the scene? Even trying to choose the next best option, the words wouldn’t come out easily.

Every day was tight. There was no guarantee that the acting that didn’t work today would work tomorrow, and more than anything, it would disrupt the location schedule.

The assistant director who approached whispered.

“Director, should we just cut out the back part and move on?”

“No way. If there’s no scene, there will be a gap in the sequence.”

Kim Ryul shook his head, and a black priest’s robe appeared before his eyes.

“Is it still break time?”

It hadn’t been ten minutes yet, so it was. Kim Ryul nodded absentmindedly, and Park Geon approached the actor.

“Horror movies.”

“Yes, yes?”

Had the lead actor’s frustration finally exploded? New direction came down to the actor, who was startled.

“I’ve been watching a lot of horror movies lately. ‘Night of the Cursed,’ ‘Corpse Doll,’ ‘Cosmic Nightmare.’ Do you know them?”

Just by hearing the names, they were horror or zombie movies that everyone knew. There was no way that someone who called himself an actor hadn’t seen the masterpieces that were ranked in the world’s top 10.

“Yes, I’ve seen them too, but…”

“I interpreted demonic possession as a type of zombie. If you only extract the blind hatred instead of hunger, and the behavior of beasts instead of the characteristics of corpses.”

The actor’s expression became ambiguous. It was because he didn’t understand the unfamiliar direction all at once.

Zombies were rather easy. John Hobbes, the horror king of the century, even revealed how to make good zombie extras in his autobiography.

If you strengthen your core with weight training and gymnastics, and master about a dozen movements that ignore the laws of physics, you can become a great zombie.

But what about possession?

Park Geon continued.

“The salvation that Guwonhoe speaks of is liberation. Escaping from the reality that binds the body and mind, finding freedom by killing or being killed.”

As will be revealed later in the movie, Guwonhoe feeds its zealous believers drugs containing hallucinogenic ingredients.

And they are given a choice.

Will you save?

Will you be saved?

“The possessed in this movie… I thought it was a device that reveals the human nature that has been released from reason, rather than being possessed by a virtual demon. Although interpretations may vary from audience to audience.”

A realization flashed in the actor’s eyes. Kim Ryul, who was sitting in the director’s chair, was leaning forward and concentrating.

“Then my role is…”

“Most of the believers of Guwonhoe are ordinary citizens. What if you could judge the people who laughed at you, ignored you, and the people you hated?”

“I think I would want to harm them…”

If you choose to be saved, you will cut open your stomach in a state of extreme ecstasy, take out your intestines, and die.

If you choose to save… a wandering demon will possess you. A fallen possessed person is born.

Park Geon nodded.

“The priest in front, I am that enemy. Charge with the determination to tear your enemy to death.”

“But what if you get hurt while doing that…”

“It’s okay.”

With those words, Park Geon rolled up the sleeves of his priest’s robe. Even though he had lost weight, his bulging forearms were nearly twice the size of an ordinary person’s.

“I can take it all. I’ve actually saved people who were having confused symptoms due to seizures, not demons…”

“Did you learn that in the special forces?”

“My father was a firefighter.”

Recovery? Looking at those arms, it seemed like he would put them to sleep forever, not save them.

The priest, who had returned to his expressionless face, instructed the actor who swallowed hard.

“Get your emotions in check.”

The re-shot scene came out OK in just two takes.

The actors playing the possessed, who were monitoring the filmed scene, even went into joint feedback, saying, “This part was awkward, that part was okay.”

Director Kim Ryul sent a nod, and Park Geon, who was dusting off his dirt-covered priest’s robe, also nodded slightly in response.

One of the staff members breathed a sigh of relief.

“Every day is a war…”

*