After giving me the audition script, the show’s synopsis, and the audition announcement, Kim Sang-cheol left the director’s office for a while. So there I was, alone, poring through the stack of papers he’d handed me.
First, I checked the overall synopsis for “RUN,” which contained its general storyline.
“Not bad.”
Just from the synopsis, I could tell RUN was simple yet pretty interesting. There was nothing about it that felt unworthy of being performed on a major stage.
They say RUN originally came from the United States…
In my past life, Italy’s Columbus discovered a giant land mass that is now called the United States of America. According to my mother, after Columbus’s discovery, that place became colonized by powerful European countries, including England, so people there still speak English much like the English do.
That would explain the times I’ve watched certain films and noticed actors speaking English in a rather different accent than I was used to. It turns out they were typically Americans or people from another island country down south—Australia, apparently.
Anyway, considering the U.S. is now a mighty superpower, a work that was a hit there certainly looked like it could be a big deal. Next, I took a look at the audition script.
Whew, all my hard work learning to read Hangul has paid off. I can now read most Korean.
Hm. The lines seem good.
Having read the script, I leaned back against the sofa for a moment, sipping the chamomile tea someone had thoughtfully brought in for me, and took a short breather. The more I read, the more I realized what a good piece it is, which made me want the role even more.
Another nice side effect of this little body is how quickly it grows—my pronunciation is noticeably improving week by week. At this rate, even if I’m up against kids as old as ten, I shouldn’t have to worry about being disadvantaged by anything other than acting skill.
“Right, so how do these auditions work?”
So far, my only “audition” was when I first joined Bi-Sang-Cheol-tto 777, where I performed briefly in front of Kang Yong-hwi and Kim Sang-cheol. That wasn’t really a formal audition, so I’m not entirely sure how modern auditions usually go.
I quickly pulled myself upright and began reading the posted audition announcement.
“Huh.”
While I’ve gotten pretty comfortable reading Hangul and my pronunciation has improved, there’s another problem: even if I can read the words, there are still many I don’t understand.
“What’s this supposed to mean?”
I set my teacup aside and focused intently on the announcement. The audition would have two rounds, 1st and 2nd. But next to the 1st round, I saw words I couldn’t parse:
[Submit audition video] [Theme: Free acting]
I get that they want a “free acting” performance… but a “video submission”?
I tilted my head, then shook it.
“I’ll have to ask Hee-seong ajusshi about this.”
Anyway, I’m supposed to visit Moon Hee-seong’s home later, so I can bring it up then.
“I’m gonna apply for this.”
The moment Moon Hee-seong opened the front gate, I thrust the RUN audition notice at him. I’d been dying to talk about it on the way over, barely holding it in.
Sensing my eagerness, he smiled.
“Yes, yes, I heard from Sang-cheol hyung. Let’s talk more inside. I bought some cookies I know you like.”
“Cookies!”
I was excited! I almost dashed right in but remembered something and paused. Then I turned around and extended my hand to Mom.
“I’m going now.”
“Hehe, alright. Make sure you don’t cause Mr. Actor any trouble, got it?”
Mom, I’m not a little kid, goodness… I’ve never caused him problems, but she always says the same thing.
“Mm!”
I gave her a quick goodbye kiss on the cheek, then darted inside Moon Hee-seong’s house.
“I’ll call you later,”
“Sure—please take care of our Siwoo.”
I could hear Mom and Moon Hee-seong exchanging farewells behind me.
As I’ve been coming here about every two weeks, I felt at home now, strolling confidently into his place.
“Hup.”
I took my usual spot on the sofa and waited for him. Strangely, I felt a sense of urgency.
Better get ready.
I firmly clutched the RUN audition notice, then pulled out my copy of the script from my bag and placed it on the table. I really wanted to figure out what “video submission” was all about.
“Oh, so this is the audition script, huh?”
He brought me some cookies and noticed the papers I’d set down. As he picked up the announcement, I happily munched on a cookie.
“Rainbow Pictures is directly involved? Siwoo, this might be a bigger opportunity than you realize.”
“Mm? Really?”
I knew it was significant, but I hadn’t realized it might wow even him. That explains why Kim Sang-cheol practically shoved me into this. I’ll have to do something extra sweet for the director later.
“But there’s something I’m curious about. What does this part mean?”
I pointed firmly at the middle of the notice.
“‘Submit audition video’? So they’ll do the first round by video, I see.”
Yes, that part I understand. But what exactly does that entail?
“How do you do it?”
I gazed up at him with eager eyes, silently urging him to explain.
“Hm. Exactly what it says—film yourself giving a free-acting performance, then send it in.”
“Mm?”
He thought for a second, then turned on the TV. After flipping a few channels, the giant screen displayed a drama I often watch.
“Look, Siwoo. Do you know how they make that drama?”
“Uh, the actors act, then they film it and put it on the air?”
“Right. And in the same way, you film a short performance. That’s because watching every actor in person would take too long.”
“Mm.”
Wow, that’s convenient.
“But acting in front of a camera is different than performing in front of a live audience.”
“How so?”
Curious, I tilted my head.
“When filming with a camera, you rarely finish in one go. You might film the same scene multiple times, and they choose the best takes to use. That way, the director or actor can pick the best performance,” he explained.
“Huh?”
Seeing my puzzlement, he tried to rephrase it gently.
“You see—”
But unfortunately, I didn’t catch any of it. His words from a moment ago were echoing in my mind.
You don’t do it all in one shot from start to finish?
Something that’s praised as ‘great acting’ is basically a… a patchwork?
Clatter.
I was so shocked that I dropped my cookie. Acting is one continuous flow of feeling and breath. How can you chop it up and stitch it back together like a rag?
I just couldn’t fathom it.
“Siwoo…?”
“That’s not real acting!”
In my frustration, I pointed at the TV and spoke loudly. Surprised by my outburst— the first time he’d seen me raise my voice—Moon Hee-seong stared at me, wide-eyed.
“Haha, it seems like you’re really shocked.”
But he didn’t seem too concerned.
“Siwoo, you’ve only done stage acting, so I guess you have that mind-set. People who’ve done only theater sometimes feel it’s strange.”
“…”
Scowling, I pouted.
‘A mind-set’? Huh.
I couldn’t accept it. How could you split one scene into pieces when that would break your flow of emotion?
Arms folded, I glowered at the TV I’d once adored.
“Siwoo, haven’t you ever noticed anything off while watching dramas?”
“Off? Like what?”
“Yes—like the background suddenly changes, or the actors’ clothes suddenly look different.”
“Ah! Right, I’ve seen that before.”
I already knew they switch camera angles or settings constantly, so it was obvious they paused the filming in between. But repeating the same performance multiple times and then stitching the best parts together?
“Well…”
“So you don’t like the idea of shooting the same scene over and over?”
“Yes. Because then you can’t maintain the emotional flow.”
No matter if it’s the same play or the same scene, your emotional range can differ each time. If they keep re-filming and patching the best cuts together, wouldn’t that create inconsistencies in the character’s emotional arc?
“Hm, that’s true. You can’t maintain it in one continuous run.”
See? You admit it, too!
“But can’t there also be advantages that theater doesn’t have?”
“Advantages?”
“Look, there’s one right now. They can show a huge close-up of the actor’s face, see? That’s called a ‘close-up.’”
He gestured to the drama playing on TV.
“Ohhh…”
So that’s a close-up. Indeed, that was one of the first things that surprised me about dramas: their ability to show the actor’s face so up close.
“With that, you can zero in on the actor’s expressions in detail. It highlights the character’s emotions in that moment.”
“True…”
“And clearly, that’s something you can’t do in theater.”
He had a point. I’ve definitely felt during certain scenes that I wanted a closer look at the main character’s tears… But wait, no, I mustn’t be swayed.
I shook my head firmly. He laughed.
“You might find it strange, but theater, drama, and film all share the same essence.”
“Hm.”
I still couldn’t accept it, so I kept my arms folded. He got up from his seat.
“You know the saying ‘seeing is believing’? Let’s try filming something now.”
“Mm?!”
‘Seeing is… what now?’
Looks like there’s still a bit of Hangul I haven’t grasped.
“It’ll be good to understand what it’s like to act in front of a camera, even before you learn about close-ups or other techniques.”
He went into a small room and came back with a big camera and a stand. Quickly extending a few metal rods, he fiddled around, and the camera was suddenly affixed to the stand.
“Wow.”
“Let’s give it a shot, shall we?”
“Mm!”
I’m pretty confident on camera. I figured it’d be no big deal and stationed myself in front of it.
“For an audition video profile, you typically shoot it in one continuous cut. So it’s just like theater—one seamless take, so you can relax.”
“Yes!”
Pressing the record button, he said:
“Just don’t expect it to be easy.”
“Hmph. Even if it’s not easy, I can do it. Let’s do this.”
“Right now, just do whatever—this is just practice.”
Standing in the middle of his living room, I stared into the lens. Sunlight poured in through the large window, illuminating one side of my face. Off to the side, I caught a glimpse of him bending down to check the camera angle.
Weird—maybe because the camera’s so big?
The dark lens felt like an all-seeing eye, boring straight into me.
I’d assumed it would be like when Mom took my picture… but it felt odd.
I gave my head a tiny shake.
It’s strange, but the nature of acting hasn’t changed.
“I’ll just do anything!”
He nodded.
Whew.
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and let emotion fill me. Then, opening my eyes again, I became a tragic heroine.
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