Chapter 75:
Chapter 75
“Act 3, Scene 4.”
A crisp voice cuts through the air.
‘Act 3, Scene 4?’
Actress Park Sang-ah looks at the director with a puzzled expression. She is not the only one.
The other actors are also confused.
As with most rehearsals, the play is usually practiced in chronological order, with the actors going on stage together for a run-through after finishing each section. But now, the director has ordered a highlight rehearsal for a novice actor.
‘Why the director?’
In an unemotional state, without even reading the script beforehand, the director’s intention is unclear to them. But what baffles them the most is the appearance of the rookie actor on stage.
‘Is it possible?’
They can’t find any trace of nervousness.
Even though they just saw him repeat the same lines for an hour on stage, his face is full of ease.
As if he swallowed the word tension.
That’s why Park Sang-ah even wonders if it might be possible. At that moment, a sound of footsteps moving in the quiet theater rings like a bell.
‘Baek Mu-yeol.’
Young-guk mutters the name of his role to himself. He raises his head towards the audience. His eyes are sharp and his shoulders are broad.
He doesn’t seem to have any shame or fear.
Rather, he shouts with confidence.
“How dare you stand there in a judge’s robe, wearing a foreigner’s name as a Korean. Now I see that the dogs of the invaders are not me, but you who are dressed in law. Have you no shame for the law that should be fair and just being corrupted?”
The judge sitting on the bench glares at the criminal with anger. He is a man who is called a fallen tiger of Korea.
But if you look at his actions, he is no less than an independence fighter.
He coveted the wives and children of the high-ranking officials of the Japanese colonial government, causing all kinds of debauchery, and also extracted secrets from the Governor-General’s Office through them.
“What did I do with the documents? What do you care? They must have been used for those who are running towards the wilderness of Manchuria, leaving my hands. If you want me to confess my past with the women I met, I’ll gladly tell you. There, sitting on the jury seat, is Misaki, the only daughter of the Governor-General’s deputy Derauchi Arasuke, and the woman who loved me passionately.”
Baek Mu-yeol looks at the woman in a kimono in front of his eyes.
She was the child of the Governor-General, who was built on the Eulsa Treaty.
Baek Mu-yeol was a man who had met many women on the streets of Gyeongseong.
The peculiar thing was that they were all Japanese women.
That’s why many people called Baek Mu-yeol a dog of the invaders. But he had a different reason for embracing Japanese women.
“Thank you, Misaki. You worked for the brightest day in Korea, and I will not forget your love.”
Misaki, who was sitting on the jury seat, swallowed her saliva and looked at him.
The sound of footsteps and movements, the eyes and gazes on the stage, made it seem as if the invisible characters were real.
The voice and tone, as well as the blocking, were artistic.
It was a scene that felt an aura that enveloped the entire stage, which was divided into nine parts.
The judge orders Baek Mu-yeol to reveal the independence fighters who colluded with him.
Surely there are still countless people who are roaming the streets of Gyeongseong with the information from Baek Mu-yeol.
At that moment, he takes a step towards the audience.
His gaze sweeps over the judges and the people who enjoy a rich life under the invaders.
Under the eerie gaze, Baek Mu-yeol raises his head proudly.
He looks like he shows the spirit of an independence fighter. He breathes in as if he savors the coming spring day, and shouts from his throat.
“I have no shame in heaven for my actions to find the spring of Korea.”
He smiles and tells the judge.
“You can execute me.”
***
‘Wow.’
Yeon-su, who is sitting in the audience, can’t close her mouth.
It’s because of Young-guk’s acting on the stage.
As he recites each line, his dialogue feels so alive and vibrant.
Even though he is the only one on stage, it seems like he has a partner to interact with.
And when I feel his gaze sweeping over the audience, I can’t help but flinch and gasp.
‘I knew he was a good actor, but…’
Director Lee Chang-hoon chuckles to himself.
He asked Yeong-uk to act out not the first scene of the first act, but the fourth scene of the third act, because he wanted to see his true colors.
He was also curious what had captivated the playwright Jeong Yong-dae.
Most seasoned actors would be nervous at the highlight rehearsal, where they had no stage props, no co-stars to exchange lines with, and no clear plot. But he created everything with his aura alone. How was that possible?
‘Is he really a newbie?’
Actress Park Sang-ah couldn’t hide her astonishment in her eyes. She wasn’t the only one.
The other actors sitting in the audience had the same reaction.
She knew well the burden and pressure of the highlight rehearsal, having performed in theater for a long time.
It was a rehearsal where a rookie would be praised for not forgetting their lines.
But the newcomer on stage was far from a novice.
He looked like a veteran who had been through many trials and tribulations in theater.
As proof, she couldn’t take her eyes off him for a second, and felt goosebumps all over her body when she heard his final line.
Even the director, Lee Chang-hoon, forgot to say ‘again’ and kept his mouth shut.
How much time had passed? When the afterglow was about to fade.
“Sang-ah Park.”
Director Chang-hoon Lee calls out her name, leaving Young-guk behind. Sang-ah can’t help feeling resentful at being called.
She can’t believe Young-guk passed the highlight rehearsal in one go, but she saw it with her own eyes.
On the other hand, Young-guk looks relaxed as he comes down from the stage.
As if he knew this would happen.
“Go up.”
Actress Sang-ah goes up to the stage and looks at Young-guk, who nods briefly at her.
“Act 1, Scene 5.”
Before I could shake off my thoughts, the voice of Director Lee Chang-hoon echoed.
“My name is Misaki. I fell in love with you at first sight. I came to see you at this late hour because I miss you so much. How can you not understand my feelings? Even if there are stars in the night sky, how can they shine brighter than you? You are the one who erased the shadow of my dark heart with your gaze and your voice.”
She was Park Sang-ah, who played the role of the only daughter of the Governor-General of Joseon. But despite her acting experience, she sounded nervous as she delivered her lines.
The reason was none other than Jang Young-guk, the rookie actor sitting in the audience.
There is an unknown power in the eyes that glance at me on the stage.
At first, I thought he was just a rookie actor who gained popularity by riding on a teen drama. But now, he feels like a mountain, as if I’m facing a senior in the theater world.
Because of that, I unconsciously swallow my saliva. Then.
“Again.”
Lee Chang-hoon’s cold voice falls.
***
After the rehearsal is over.
“Good job, everyone.”
I watched as Director Lee Chang-hoon stood up from his seat and thanked the actors. It was our first rehearsal, and it had lasted almost half a day.
We hadn’t even gone through all the scenes and acts in a run-through, but the time was already pointing to evening.
The actors were exhausted beyond words, as we had worked without any breaks.
“We have one month left until the Korean Theater Festival. We have to bring out our best skills within that time. It will be hard. Don’t feel too bad if I’m harsh with you. Try to look at yourself objectively, and show the audience a flawless performance on stage.”
There was no after-party after the first rehearsal.
Everyone was busy reflecting on what they felt on stage today.
They were called actors in the broadcasting world, but most of them had been away from the theater for years, if not decades.
Their acting had been focused on dramas and movies, so they couldn’t help but be dissatisfied with their theatrical performance.
The expression of actress Park Sang-ah was proof of that. She was so disappointed with herself in the first rehearsal that she couldn’t express it in words.
“Director, can I stay a little longer and practice more?”
I quietly asked Director Lee Chang-hoon then.
It was a small voice, but no one missed it in the serene theater.
I was worried that I might be a burden to the other actors. I realized that I was too arrogant in the first rehearsal.
My acting was worlds apart from the seniors’ rehearsals.
Director Lee Chang-hoon nodded briefly without a word.
In the deserted theater, Yeon-su walks alone on the stage, reciting her lines.
“Who is that man, to consort with a Japanese woman like that? He is a disgrace to Joseon. He must want to be a dog of the invaders, fawning over them so. Or maybe he wants to be one of them, if not a dog.”
She recalls what she learned from the seniors’ rehearsal, and tries hard to find her own flaws. In the shadowy seats, Young-guk sits quietly. He knows well the pressure that Yeon-su feels.
‘The burden of being the lead.’
She might have doubted herself after seeing her acting in the first rehearsal. Whether she deserved the lead role or not.
But to me, Yeon-su was an actress with potential.
It had to be that way, or else Director Lee Chang-hoon would have cruelly fired her on the spot.
I silently watch Yeon-su practice. As a senior, and someone who had theater experience in my past life, I could have given her some advice. But I don’t.
It might help her right now, but it would be a loss in the long run. For now, it was better for her to reflect on her own feelings from today’s rehearsal.
How much time had passed?
Yeon-su’s manager, who had arrived at the theater in a hurry, looked at the stage with a worried expression.
It had been over three hours since the rehearsal ended, but Yeon-su was still practicing without a break. She ran tirelessly on her own, even though there were no stage props or actors to cue her lines.
After all, the stage was always a battlefield. No matter how much pressure and stress she had to bear, she was a soldier on the stage who had to deliver joy and emotion to the audience.
Her back was already soaked with sweat, and her bangs that covered her forehead were stuck together with beads of perspiration.
Yeon-su bit her lips and kept reciting her lines. Her eyes were watery as if she was about to cry, but she tried hard to hold back her tears.
Young-guk silently watches the scene as a lone spectator.
***
‘Yeon-su has a good voice and tone, but she doesn’t use her movements well. The actual stage is divided into more than nine sections, not six, and it gives a majestic impression. She needs to adjust her blocking accordingly. Park Sang-ah keeps stuttering her lines and has trouble with her eye contact. Son Ji-min is…’
Stage director Seong Ji-hoon is writing his directing notes based on what he felt during today’s rehearsal.
As a director, he has to make sure the actors are distributed according to the use of the stage.
Theater has the limitations of space and time.
That’s why the effects of the curtain and the scene are so important.
The stage direction should support the actors’ performance and make it more alive.
To do that, I need to examine the actors’ performance as well. I need to have the courage to cut out the unnecessary parts and supplement the lacking parts with the stage devices. At that moment, I stop at one person’s name.
‘Jang Young-guk.’
He’s a strange actor. I’ve overseen many theater stages myself, but I’ve never met an actor who gives such a mysterious feeling. It’s normal for a rookie actor who’s on the theater stage for the first time to be unable to hide his nervousness.
There was a reason why Director Lee Chang-hoon was so strict with the actors, to the point of being considered harsh. Unlike dramas or movies, there was no editing on the stage.
Once the curtain rose, they had to run from start to finish without stopping.
It was a matter of courtesy and professionalism to the audience who paid for the tickets that the actors had to perform flawlessly on the stage.
That’s why most of the new actors could only play minor roles or extras, which was also a limitation of the stage. But then…
‘It was unbelievable.’
It was a rehearsal for the play, and not just any rehearsal, but the highlight rehearsal.
They would have given me a generous evaluation if I had just managed to say my lines without stuttering. But Young-guk had delivered his lines perfectly, and even performed a solo act on the empty stage.
His aura enveloped the entire stage, divided into six parts, and his roar towards the audience sent shivers down my spine. How could a rookie actor who had never been on a proper stage show such a thing?
Why do you think theater is different from drama or movies, Actor?
No matter how good an actor is in drama or movies, they are bound to make mistakes on the theater stage.
But Young-guk was flawless in the highlight rehearsal.
He was like a veteran actor who had worn out on the theater scene.
In that mysterious gap, the stage director Sung Ji-hoon wrote a short Chinese character next to the actor’s name ‘Jang Young-guk’.
Nothingness.
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