How to Become a Likable Actor #1

"#1 rehearsal, good work! Take 30 minutes and we'll move right to the next scene!"

The staffer's booming voice announced the end of the first scene rehearsal.

Before I could even catch my breath, the familiar overlay appeared before my eyes.

This time, it was my scorecard for the performance.

I earned 30 points, huh.

I don't know the exact criteria, but if this measures my skill, it means points will get harder and harder to rack up.

I clicked on the comments, and they were overflowing with emotion over how well I'd followed their advice.

Then I spotted one comment.

I nodded at the reply.

"Yeah, that's true."

Even I thought my acting fell way short of their advice.

As I nodded in agreement, replies started pouring in under that comment in seconds.

...Dude, way overkill?

That's when Mari is a Princess replied.

As soon as I posted my thanks, replies exploded.

What kind of favor stack has this princess built up...?

I stopped wondering and posted one last reply before closing the gallery.

"Everyone's so warm."

It hadn't been long since I discovered it, but I already felt this strange sense of belonging to the gallery.

"Let's see, next scene."

I pulled out my tattered script and skimmed it.

The next scene I was in featured Sang-cheol alone.

This is probably the last solo scene without the lead.

Short runtime, but hey, beggars can't be choosers. Solo spots for supporting roles are rare opportunities.

Still plenty of time left.

From the progress, my rehearsal wouldn't start until after lunch.

Skipping lunch might add some realism since he's supposed to be hungry anyway.

Yeah, just starve. Better to skip lunch.

So what to do until my turn?

Just sitting around zoning out? That's not pro. That's insane. Review the script more, help staff if I can. That's the survival tactic of a 20-year veteran extra who gets called back.

You don't survive as an extra without likability skills.

And there's something bothering me.

With that thought, I cautiously headed toward where the camera crew was gathered.

Camera directors tend to have quirky sides by nature.

They carry a different weight and stress from the overall director, who oversees the entire set.

Of course, they have to manage the whole camera department under them.

But above all, they often got disappointed by actors' attitudes.

Yoon Sung-woo, the camera director, was one of those types.

Whenever he saw actors half-assing rehearsals because "no cameras," it boiled his blood.

He even made a habit of saying, "Rehearsals are the real deal. If it doesn't work in rehearsal, it won't in the actual shoot!"

In that sense, Lee Tae-ryun's set had fewer of those actors, which wasn't bad.

What's this now?

Yoon Sung-woo eyed the approaching actor with a displeased frown.

The rookie playing Sang-cheol. He'd vaguely noticed him working hard in the rehearsal earlier.

But Yoon was irritated by that idol actor Kim Chan-uk prancing around earlier.

He'd come asking for feedback, saying,

"My left side looks better, could we adjust the camera path maybe?"

And now this fresh-faced rookie shows up too. Not thrilled. Yoon knew these situations well and could predict what came next.

Headache.

Usually, their enthusiasm runs wild, dying for opinions on the shoot.

How their acting was, how to look better, etc.

To Yoon, Kim Doyun looked exactly like that type.

Coming out at dawn, bouncing around greeting everyone—that's textbook rookie repertoire.

What do greenhorns know, showing off in front of cameras and directors? Acting happens behind the camera, not in front. Why don't they get that?

Then the young rookie spoke cautiously.

"Director, sorry, but I have a quick ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠question about the last scene..."

Yep, called it. Predictable.

That's what he thought.

"If the camera pulls back that way on exit... wouldn't it be better if I deliver the line a bit later? Watching the monitor, the eye line timing seems slightly off."

Yoon froze.

Normally, it'd be dumb questions like "Director, how was my acting?", "Did the emotion come through?", "How can I act better?"

But this rookie was talking camera path and actor eye line sync. Specifically.

Camera director Yoon rubbed his nape.

First time seeing this type.

Suddenly, he recalled the junior production staff whispering that morning.

—At first, thought he was just an overzealous newbie and sighed, but he's actually pretty good? Heard the director and writer saying something praiseworthy earlier.

—Tae-ryun praising a rookie? You misheard. Still, he's polite and bright. Nice greetings.

He'd dismissed it as junior nonsense then.

Huh.

Yoon narrowed his eyes, curiosity slipping out unbidden.

"...Where'd you act before?"

Genuinely curious. Not something you learn in acting academies.

"You mean academy? Acting... self-taught."

Doyun's eyes flickered faintly.

No academy background. Rare these days.

Well, academies can't teach it anyway. On-set sense.

No academy. That pleased Yoon. He let out a short chuckle.

"I mean, how'd you learn that?"

"Mostly from videos. Imagined sets from movies and dramas, analyzed camera positions and actor paths. And whenever I got ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠extra gigs, I observed and noted as much as possible."

Seemed honest. His script was more battered than any ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Yoon had seen in years.

No bluffing. Straight to the point.

Then a staffer spoke up cautiously.

"Looks like we're short one or two lunchboxes..."

Lunchtime had long passed, rehearsals dragging longer than expected. Everyone starving. Mood chilled briefly.

A junior camera staffer tried slipping back quietly, but the rookie actor was already handing over his bagged lunchbox.

The ones distributed to actors first.

"Here, have this. I can eat later."

The staffer waved it off in shock.

"No, sir, you actors eat first."

"It's fine. Not my turn yet. Don't worry, eat up."

The rookie meant it. No forced goodwill or ulterior motive.

"Good manners."

Yoon's eyes softened a bit at him looking out for the junior.

He furrowed his brow, then nodded faintly. Turned silently to his monitor.

Perfect timing—the first AC was replaying the recent rehearsal.

"Rewind to Sang-cheol's exit."

"Ah, yes, director!"

The first AC fumbled the controller hurriedly.

On screen, the rookie as Sang-cheol exited, camera slowly following his back.

"Director, this..."

A subtle difference casual viewers miss, but pros spot the awkwardness.

"Huh, look at that."

It was real. Eye line off by half a frame.

My stomach wouldn't stop growling.

Skipped lunch, so expected.

It's the weight I chose to bear.

Fits this scene anyway.

Next rehearsal: [#5 Sang-cheol, Meat Restaurant].

Chaotic lunch rush at a packed grill joint. An underpaid part-timer eating leisurely?

Get chewed out and fired.

Until the afternoon lull around 3 PM, reality means scrubbing griddles nonstop with a growling gut. At least where I worked.

Grill joint, huh. Yeah, this I can nail better than anyone. Maybe even top my audition take.

But why? Why so reluctant?

Plus, using Director's Vision makes the scene vivid. That's why.

Never dreaded this ability more.

Skip it?

Nah, gotta use it. Especially on confident scenes. Don't know exactly what for, but chance for big points.

Points are pure profit.

Source is the Gal...lery.

Runna, the par-ttak moderator and overwhelming #1 points holder, declared it. Gotta be true.

"Yeah, sure is."

As I steeled myself, a man approached. Mid-40s, bit of a gut.

Somehow reassuring vibe.

Receding hairline, balding forehead, soft features. But voice and demeanor felt oddly weak.

"Hello, actor Kim Doyun. I'm playing the boss in this scene. Nice to work with you."

Extra playing the grill owner who scolds part-timer Sang-cheol.

My scene partner.

Vaguely remembered seeing his face while greeting staff earlier.

Why's his face so familiar?

Well, 20 years rolling with extras, you brush past faces.

"Likewise. Nice to work with you, sir."

The extra uncle looked delighted, surprised.

"Sir? Haha."

Makes me happy seeing him so pleased. Top 3 best phrases from my extra days.

"Ah, my name is..."

Staff voice cut in, signaling rehearsal start.

-#5 scene rehearsal prep! Actors to set!

I smiled at the extra uncle.

"Shall we match blocking first, sir?"

"Ah, yes! Let's!"

Back under director Lee Tae-ryun's gaze, onto the stage.

Here it comes. PTSD straight to the brain.

Game on.

Behold, raw real-docu humanism theater. A day in the life of grill part-timer Kim Doyun—no tears, no entry.

Almighty Actor Gallery, protect me from the griddle!

I'd just prayed that fervently.

Then the familiar throbbing hit, thick oil smoke rising before my eyes. Sizzling hot iron plate.

"Ughhh..."

Ah, something's audible. What is it?

Wonder what.

Ah, just Actor Gallery users mocking me.

The moment I opened my eyes, I returned to that time.

The stage where I could unleash my peak everyday acting.