Chapter 79: The Presence of an Extra
༺ The Presence of an Extra ༻
“Director, I’m not quite sure what you were concerned about.”
Later that day, Director Son and Bae Geohyeong were talking in the meeting room after the reading.
Bae Geohyeong was a veteran actor in his mid-40s and a long-time student of Director Son. He had been greatly impressed by the performance of the rookie actor who would be playing the role of Lee Bang-won.
“During the reading, his focus and tension never wavered. I understand that acting on set is different, but what’s there to worry about when he has such concentration and skill?”
“You’re right. After seeing him today, I think I might have been overly cautious. It’s rare to find someone so fitting for the role, and I guess I got a bit carried away since it was my last film.”
“Are you really planning to retire after this project?”
“Haha, so you knew about my retirement and still accepted the role. Well, it’s time to step back and make room for the younger generation.”
“But Director, nobody can make films like you do…”
Director Son laughed heartily at his response. Just then,
Knock knock—
There was a gentle knock at the door.
“Come in,” Director Son called out.
The door opened, revealing the face of the very actor they were discussing.
“Rookie actor? You haven’t left yet? What can I do for you?”
“Director, I have a request…”
“What is it?”
“I… heard I won’t have much filming in the first month. Is that right?”
“Yes, that’s right. During Jeong Mong-ju’s younger years, Lee Bang-won will be played by a child actor. The scenes where Jeong Mong-ju and Lee Bang-won share tea and have a conversation are spread throughout the runtime, but most will be shot towards the end.”
“I know you said I should come to the set even on days I’m not filming, but…”
“You don’t have to if you’re busy. After today’s reading, I think I might have been overly sensitive.”
“No, it’s not that. I was wondering if you could hire me as an extra in the meantime.”
“An extra?”
Both Director Son and the veteran actor were taken aback.
A lead actor working as an extra was an unusual request.
“I mean, not an extra whose face is recognizable, but more like a passerby in crowd scenes. Historical dramas often need many extras, so I thought it might be okay.”
“Why… would you want to do that?”
“I thought it might help me get a better feel for the non-verbal aspects of acting, like what you told me about.”
Director Son looked at him, amazed by his passion and unconventional approach to practice.
“Hmm… will being an extra really help you practice?”
“I’m not sure either, but I want to try practicing exuding my presence within limited reactions.”
“Hmm… that’s an interesting idea.”
“But I’m worried that standing out as an extra might cause a disturbance…”
Haha—
Director Son burst into laughter.
“You’re not planning to do any exaggerated actions, are you?”
“No, it’s nothing like that. I just want to focus and follow along the scenes.”
“If you manage to stand out in crowd scenes just by your presence and without any exaggerated actions, then that’s not a nuisance. It’s something commendable.”
“…That’s true.”
“Alright, let’s do it!”
Director Son couldn’t refuse the actor’s request, who was filled with such passion for acting. After he left, the veteran actor smiled.
“What an impressive guy. I wish my Hun-Seong could learn a bit from him…”
His son had also recently debuted as an actor. He wished that his somewhat lackadaisical son would take after Yoomyeong.
“It seems we have someone even more ambitious about acting than me.”
Director Son smiled warmly.
“But Director, do you really think this method will work?”
“Honestly, I’m not sure… But as you know, Bae, if he doesn’t try what he wants to do, then he’ll always regret it.”
“Ah… I understand.”
“Plus, his unique approach might be the reason for his impressive acting skills at such a young age. There’s no harm in trying. It’s not like there’s anything to lose, anyway.”
“That makes sense.”
The veteran actor nodded and looked at the door through which the young actor had exited, anticipating his growth.
*
Preparing for a historical drama required a lot of work.
Although Yoomyeong had joined last and the pre-production had been ongoing for six months, the crank-in date was finally fixed in mid-April, two weeks later than planned.
“Please raise your arms. Spread them to the sides at a 90-degree angle, like this.”
This was Yoomyeong’s first time getting fitted for traditional Korean attire.
He wasn’t just getting one set of clothes, but several: official robes, envoy attire, everyday clothes, and mourning clothes.
Hansung laughed at Yoomyeong as he awkwardly assumed the requested pose, a relieved smile on his face from having finished his own fitting.
Meanwhile, the art director and the head of the costume team were busily discussing.
“For contrast on screen, shouldn’t we stick to the plan of using blue and red? A cool blue tone for the rational Jeong Mong-ju and a bold red tone for the ambitious Lee Bang-won.”
“I thought the same initially. But the director wants to portray them as similar characters. What if we use different shades of blue? A bright blue for Lee Bang-won, and a more sophisticated blue with hints of purple for Jeong Mong-ju?”
“But wouldn’t that make the screen too blue?”
“That’s why we’re thinking of using red for the sets and props. A bloody red, like splattered blood.”
“Hmm…”
“A tense standoff between the two shades of blue, surrounded by ominous red… Doesn’t it have a nice ring to it?”
“It sounds good, but it’s not easy to get the exact shades we imagine. Let’s discuss it with the director later.”
Yoomyeong listened intently to the staff’s enthusiastic discussion.
After getting measured for his costume, Yoomyeong moved to the archery center.
This was because there was a scene where Lee Bang-won and Jeong Mong-ju, both scholars and warriors, were shooting arrows at an archery range.
“The principles of archery stance are ‘neither too straight nor too relaxed’ and ’empty chest, full belly’. The feet should be positioned between straight and angled, with your chest relaxed and belly tensed.”
While he didn’t need to excel in archery, his posture had to appear as natural as if he had been trained in martial arts all his life.
Yoomyeong consistently took archery lessons two to three times a week, and the muscle soreness in his arms from pulling the heavy bowstring became a part of his daily life.
The day he first learned horseback riding, even his instructor was surprised.
“Are you the son of a wealthy family?”
“What? Why do you ask?”
“I was told to teach you since you’re a rookie actor who had never acted in a historical drama before… How do you know how to ride a horse?”
‘I did a few extra roles in historical dramas when I was in graduate school before…’ Yoomyeong thought to himself, smiling awkwardly.
Despite his busy schedule, he consistently practiced the script with Hansung in his spare time.
Time flew by quickly.
News quickly spread that the rookie actor, who had risen to stardom with his role as Yoon Bohyung in ‘Showbiz Studies,’ had joined Director Son Chi-wook’s film.
Successfully completing the full script reading was an experience in itself, as was seeing the bright-eyed 6 and 12-year-olds who would play his role’s younger self.
As photos from the day of the reading were released as promotional materials, congratulations and encouraging texts poured in.
Finally, in mid-April, the day of the crank-in arrived.
*
“Everyone, please make way for the ancestral rites!”
“I hope this becomes a big hit. Let’s hope for ten million viewers!”
“Does anyone have cash? Oh, I forgot to bring money.”
The first shooting location was the Mungyeongsaejae Open Set.
This set, constructed in Mungyeong in 2000, represented the Goryeo Dynasty and was the largest historical drama set in Korea with two royal palaces, 42 tiled houses, 40 straw-roofed houses, and 13 other buildings.
The filming of <The Late Goryeo Dynasty & the Early Joseon Dynasty> was to take place mostly in Mungyeong, with additional shoots at beautiful traditional houses and gardens around the country.
‘Wow, this is something new…’
Yoomyeong, who had gotten used to the unfamiliar landscapes after his return – where vanished highways now stood proudly or where giant landmarks had yet to be erected – found the scenery of the set strikingly new and refreshing.
In 2008, the Mungyeongsaejae Open Set was demolished and rebuilt as a Joseon Dynasty set, which was the only version Yoomyeong had seen.
The landscape, transformed within his familiar geographical memory, gave him a strangely eerie feeling. It made the incredible power that Miho wielded—the power to turn back time—feel even more real.
{Ah, kyung~ It was changed to a Joseon Dynasty set. I was thinking about that.}
‘Yeah… I understand how significant your accomplishment was.’
Miho squinted her eyes in a smug smile, then playfully tugged the extra’s costume that Yoomyeong was wearing.
{But are you really going to do this? It seems like a pointless struggle.}
‘There are people who recognize my lack of presence. Now that I’m aware of it, I have to at least try to overcome it.’
{Hmm… But remember, there’s an easier way called ‘making a deal with me’. Struggling like this won’t necessarily increase your presence.}
‘I know. But I want to practice projecting the presence I do have.’
{Projecting, kyung?}
‘Yes, it’s something I constantly did in my previous life.’
During the times when he felt overshadowed by others and when even moving his limbs while acting felt heavy, he thought of projecting his then-limited energy.
Back then, he had hoped to project his current energy more firmly to assert his existence.
This was the direction of the practice Yoomyeong had in mind.
{Hmm. Will it work, though? If it doesn’t, just remember that there is another way, kyung~}
‘…’
Miho habitually suggested an alternative, then blurred and disappeared.
*
Yoomyeong, dressed in a traditional robe, sat in the academic hall.
The first scene to be shot was set in the Sungkyunkwan Academy in 1367, when Jeong Mong-ju was a renowned professor there.
In that year, the year Lee Bang-won was born, Jeong Mong-ju was already renowned as the country’s leading Confucian scholar. Yoomyeong’s role was a student listening to Jeong Mong-ju’s lecture, positioned so that only his back would be captured by the front and side cameras.
Sitting there, Yoomyeong visualized his character.
‘I am currently a passionate young Confucian scholar of about 20 years old and someone who greatly admires Jeong Mong-ju.’
Yoomyeong sat upright in his seat and gazed intently at the ancient scripture written in an unfamiliar script, doing his best to exude a strong presence.
{Hoo…}
Miho, watching the waves of presence and energy rippling around Yoomyeong, was quite impressed.
Though it wasn’t comparable to his actual acting, his presence was much more visible than before.
‘How much of his energy can he really control? It’s an interesting attempt for a human.’
Miho chuckled as she pulled out popcorn, watching with amusement.
*
Even the child actors performed well.
Thanks to the impeccable acting of the cast, the shooting progressed smoothly under the meticulous direction of Director Son.
And Yoomyeong was gaining experience in portraying the most diverse roles in a short period:
— A member of the group of officials prostrating in the palace.
— One of the young Confucian scholars submitting a proposal for diplomatic relations with Ming.
— An onlooker lining up when Jeong Mong-ju visited Ming.
— As one of the monks who requested a poem from Jeong Mong-ju in Japan.
The energy in the crowd scenes was intense.
Being in the midst of densely packed people brought back memories of his past life when his movements felt heavy, oppressed by the energy of others.
During scenes with large, powerful groups, Yoomyeong practiced projecting his presence, pushing against the dense energy around him.
After focusing and finishing his acting, he would often be drenched in sweat.
“Yoomyeong, come here.”
Even amidst this, his one-on-one sessions with Director Son continued daily.
During breaks, the director would call Yoomyeong for passionate acting guidance.
While Director Son was generally satisfied with his acting, he often urged him to be ‘more intense’ in shots where Lee Bang-won was on the periphery of the screen.
A month passed like that.
Miho watched the growing ripples of Yoomyeong’s presence, somewhat astonished.
Of course, the spirit fox’s astonishment was more similar to watching an amusing trick.
That was, until ‘that day’ arrived.
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