“I’ve Returned as a Lawyer, The Story of Walgok’s Family, Jeongsan Valley, Liszt’s Song, Man and Woman, The Annals of Seo Sangil...”
The president of the Daehan Theater Association, Kim Sangdo, was reciting the titles of the plays to be staged at this year’s festival. It was a lineup so powerful, it could be called the most dazzling in the festival’s history. Every single one was a play that had drawn nationwide popularity, and the actors were all the cream of the crop in the current Korean theater scene. And, above all, the very last one.
“Spring of Joseon.”
As one article put it, it was no exaggeration to say that the glories of the past had come rushing back. Actors who once dominated the Korean theater world had returned to the stage. The script was written by Jeong Yongdae, a playwright so famous he was once called the “Shakespeare of Joseon,” and the stage director was Director Seong Jihun, once hailed as a prodigy in the directing world. But the most important thing was the casting of the leads.
It’s fascinating, really.
As with any theater troupe, it was almost unheard of for a rookie actor to take the lead on stage.
That was only natural, since unlike film or TV dramas, the theater had no editing technology. There were no retakes after an NG. The show had to run nonstop from start to finish, so it was customary for the lead, who had the most lines and stage time, to be a seasoned actor with plenty of stage experience.
Yet in Spring of Joseon, both the male and female leads were rookies, so inexperienced they could only be called complete newcomers.
Except for them, not only the other actors in Spring of Joseon, but also the playwright and stage director, were all deeply experienced in theater. It was hard to believe that people so aware of the risks of casting rookies would have chosen them just for the buzz.
After all, if a lead actor made a mistake in a comeback performance, it would be a nightmare like no other. In that sense—
What on earth convinced them?
It was impossible not to be curious. Just what kind of acting ability did these rookies possess, that they could land the lead roles? Just then, an association staff member entered the president’s office for approval.
“President, here’s the list of corporate sponsors for this year’s festival’s stage production. More companies showed interest than we expected. In particular, Hanol has promised full support for all stage lighting.”
“Huh, they never even answered our calls before.”
President Kim Sangdo gave a bitter smile. Theater didn’t hold much prestige in Korea. Especially with the economic downturn, no matter how famous the actors, it was hard to expect a sold-out show.
There was a reason people said theater was the least profitable of all the arts. Statistics showed that, among all cultural industries, theater was the most grueling. And yet—
Is it even possible for everything to change because of one person’s appearance?
Ever since the name “Jang Yeongguk” appeared in the articles, the entire landscape of the Daehan Theater Festival had begun to shift. Not only were all the tickets sold out, but even reporters were officially requesting to attend. That meant he was an actor drawing attention from both the broadcasting world and the press. After signing off on the documents, the president looked up.
“Come to think of it, isn’t today the day we decide the festival’s performance order? The results should be out by now. How did it go?”
“President.”
The staff member hesitated, his lips moving but unable to speak. When President Kim Sangdo shot him a puzzled look, the staffer finally opened his mouth.
“There’s a commotion in the auditorium right now, and the staff are trying to mediate.”
“A commotion?”
“Actor Park Sangcheol is making a scene, saying he can’t accept the results of the performance order…”
President Park Sangdo’s eyes narrowed in a curious way. As he suddenly rose from his seat, the staffer looked startled.
“President, you’re not actually going to the auditorium yourself, are you?”
But the president walked off, leaving the staffer behind, and added,
“Hey, don’t you know that watching a fight is the most fun thing in the world?”
* * *
Actor Park Sangcheol was glaring fiercely. After all, hadn’t a much younger hoobae just mocked him? To be disrespected by a young hoobae in front of his fellow actors—he was simply at a loss for words. He quickly calmed his expression and turned to Yeongguk.
“What did you just say?”
Everyone thought Yeongguk had misspoken. It happens sometimes, doesn’t it? Words you were thinking slip out before you realize it. And the other party was Park Sangcheol, no less, a man notorious in the theater world for his hot temper. But—
“I said, is this a marketplace, or are your ears just bad, sunbae?”
When Yeongguk repeated himself with a faint smile, everyone’s eyes widened. Even Director Lee Changhun was no exception. In this tense moment, Yeongguk looked around at the crowd and shouted,
“Aren’t we all theater actors here?”
At Yeongguk’s voice, as if he’d boiled a train car in his lungs, everyone flinched.
“The Korean theater world has always been too closed off. The sunbaes always say the same thing: in the end, only the ones who can hack it stick around. I understand why, given the nature of theater, you put rookies through such grueling acting practice it borders on cruel. But do you really think it makes sense to enforce that kind of discipline here, in a place like this?”
Yeongguk glanced at Actor Park Sangcheol and continued.
“If you’re saying the performance order was rigged, or that the association fixed it, then I have nothing to say. It’s not like I have any special connection with the president, and what would make them push us to the end of the lineup? If you really don’t trust it, we can give up our slot and do a re-vote. But aren’t we all here because we want to see Korean theater thrive?”
The revival of theater.
“What’s so important about the order? Isn’t the content of the performance what really matters? To be blunt, do you all want to see Korean theater flourish, or do you just want to win an award at the Daehan Theater Festival? Maybe you think it’s arrogant for a much younger hoobae to say this, but since I’m already being arrogant, let me add a few more words.”
While everyone was still in shock, Director Lee Changhun watched the scene with an intrigued expression.
“I heard all four days of this year’s festival are sold out. Isn’t this the perfect opportunity? Countless audience members are waiting for us. For their sake, instead of wasting time bickering over the performance order, I’d rather do another run-through of the show right now. An actor’s purpose isn’t about winning awards, but about moving the audience and leaving a lasting impression.”
To move the audience and leave a lasting impression. The words echoed in their hearts, as if being chewed over. At some point, everyone had gotten so caught up in the fierce competition of the Daehan Theater Festival, they’d forgotten the essence of theater.
The reason the theater industry lagged behind other cultural industries wasn’t something else. The mindset of those in the field was also a problem. At last, Yeongguk looked at the actors and shouted one final time.
“What is the real reason you sunbaes are participating in the Daehan Theater Festival?”
Actor Park Sangcheol’s face turned red and blue by turns. But unlike before, he didn’t approach Yeongguk in anger. Because Yeongguk’s words weren’t wrong. If they kept fighting like this, it would only be shooting themselves in the foot. In the end, Park Sangcheol furrowed his brow and turned away. And from a distance, the president watched the scene with a satisfied smile.
* * *
Two days later.
“Hey—!”
A shout rang out in the MBS drama department. Go Byeongman, a PD with ten years’ experience, was glaring at AD Kim Yeongmin. He looked so fierce that no one else dared step in, just swallowing nervously. Go Byeongman, the veins bulging in his neck, berated Kim Yeongmin again.
“You’ve been an AD for five years, so I trusted you with Team B, and this is how you shoot? I told you, when you film scene 57, start with a full shot (F/S) and then switch to a waist shot (W/S). I said to pay attention because we’d need it for the montage later, didn’t I! But you bring me footage like this? Are your eyes screwed up or what?”
“Go-sunbae, I really did try to pay attention. That’s why I told you, if we framed it that way, it wouldn’t have the right feel. So I suggested we just tilt down instead…”
“This little shit’s talking back to a sunbae like me. And what, tilt down? You think you’re in a position to teach me? You act like that, and that’s why you’re still an AD. I let you fill in because you’re supposed to be good at framing, and now you think you’re a real director? Huh? Look at this punk’s face. Not gonna relax?”
Go Byeongman smacked Kim Yeongmin on the shin. Kim Yeongmin’s leg throbbed, but he clenched his teeth and didn’t show it. After chewing him out for a while, Go Byeongman glared again and said firmly,
“If this week’s episode falls through, it’s all on you.”
Only after Go Byeongman left the editing room did the drama department finally quiet down. The senior PDs acted like it was nothing out of the ordinary, while the junior ADs occasionally shot Kim Yeongmin sympathetic looks. Then—
“What are you so down about?”
A hand landed on AD Kim Yeongmin’s shoulder as he sat blankly at his partition. Kim Yeongmin looked up to see who it was. It was none other than PD Yu Myeonghan. With a short nod, he gestured toward the rooftop and started walking.
“Put this on before it bruises.”
Yu Myeonghan tossed a tub of Vaseline to Kim Yeongmin as he came up to the roof. Caught off guard, Kim Yeongmin hugged the arc of flying Vaseline to his chest, looking awkward as he bowed his head.
“Thank you, sunbae.”
“Hey, talk comfortably. It’s just you and me up here during meeting time anyway. But why was Go-sunbae so on edge this morning?”
“Well, you know. The mini-series Go-sunbae was in charge of totally tanked. And then Kim-sunbae from Team B had to take sick leave for a burst appendix, so I filled in for a bit. I guess he didn’t like the footage I shot.”
“Forget it, he’s always like that. When the ratings tank, he blames everyone but himself. Anyway, last week’s shoot was your last fill-in, right? I heard Kim Yangsu is back on Team B starting today.”
“Yes. Honestly, it’s for the best. I might be out of line saying this in front of you, but I’m only human. It’s just too much. At least today there were people around, so it ended here. Last time, he even grabbed me by the collar in the emergency stairwell. I mean, is it my fault the ratings keep dropping?”
“If it’s tough, you’ve got to let it out. But you also have to know how to let some things slide. That’s just how the drama department is. It’s the only way to survive…”
Yu Myeonghan gave a bitter smile. In the broadcasting station, the drama department was the most sensitive to ratings, bar none. Especially for ten-year PDs like Go Byeongman, it was almost pathological. No matter how well you played the politics, if you fell behind in the ratings race, you’d never make CP and just end your career as a regular PD.
“Yeongmin, you don’t have any more work scheduled, right?”
“After Go-sunbae blew up at me like that, who’s going to give me any assignments? I’ll probably just do odd jobs around the drama department. At this rate, I’ll end up retiring as an AD without ever getting a PD badge. I even heard they might send me to the variety department like PD Jeong. Honestly, that sounds less stressful. My original dream was to direct a music program, anyway.”
“Hey, instead of that, why don’t you team up with me for a bit?”
“What…?”
AD Kim Yeongmin’s eyes went wide.
“Yu-sunbae—no, hyung, you’re not working on any projects right now, are you?”
“I’m about to take one on. The director’s been pestering me nonstop.”
“You don’t mean that historical drama, do you? Just tell them you’re not doing it, lie down and let them try to cut you. It’s a total time bomb. All the other sunbaes are avoiding it so it doesn’t mess up their careers. Why would you take that on? Seriously, the drama department is a damn mess.”
“I want to crash into that mess myself.”
“Crash into it?”
“I want to make CP before any of those so-called sunbaes.”
Kim Yeongmin jumped in surprise and glanced around the rooftop. Luckily, no one was there. Just as he was about to sigh in relief, Yu Myeonghan patted him on the back and added,
“Get ready. We’re heading out on a business trip today.”
“Huh? A business trip, all of a sudden?”
“I already got approval from the director. We need to cast the lead at the Daehan Theater Festival. And it’s been a while since I’ve seen a play.”
“Sunbae, what do you mean, cast the lead? And what’s this about a play? I haven’t even said I’ll work with you yet…”
Kim Yeongmin still looked dazed. But at Yu Myeonghan’s next words, he snapped to attention.
“Don’t you want to crash into it with me?”
