Casting Confirmation: The Starting Gun Fires
Once an actor passes the casting stage, they are assigned a role. This is the moment when it's decided who will become another "me" in the story ahead—a point akin to crouching at the starting line of a long, grueling race, poised to launch.
So, when does the starting pistol crack? Probably when they receive the overall production schedule.
In films or dramas, the directing team typically hands out a "shooting episode chart" to the actors. From leads down to bit players with image roles, it lists the number of shooting episodes and dates for everyone involved, along with summaries of the scenes per episode. This lets actors grasp the production's full flow. On top of that, a "daily shooting plan"—detailing call times (on-set arrival), setup completion (makeup and costumes), and start/end times—is sent alongside the storyboard, updated as needed with every change on set. Though it shifts constantly due to on-site realities, these documents allow actors to predict the shoot's progression and dive into prep.
"Here's the rehearsal schedule."
"Ah, thank you."
The paper handed over by Director Oh Tae-hyeop right after signing the contract fit this mold—but its content and format felt a world apart from what Woojin knew.
"Rehearsals start the Monday after next..."
The Saw the Pheasant? schedule wasn't broken down by days but by weeks, covering a four-week rehearsal period kicking off in the second week of June. And it was team-based, not individual.
"Out of the four weeks for the main performance rehearsals, the first three are six days a week, and the final week is seven straight days of full run-throughs."
"I figured it'd be something like that, but this is even more of a boot camp than I imagined."
"With such a short prep time, the schedule's packed tight. But excluding the run itself, we've only got six weeks total for the performance period. No choice, sunbaenim."
"Better short and intense than long and thin. I agree. This'll be fun."
"Thank you for understanding."
"Understanding? What’s there to understand! The fun of theater is sweating it out together. Just thinking about tearing it up onstage with hyungnim after so long has me thrilled already. Hahaha!"
Lee Kang-sik tossed out the light joke with a booming laugh. Oh Tae-hyeop nodded vigorously.
"You haven't gotten the script yet, right?"
"No, Director... I mean, PD-nim! Last time I just skimmed it as reference. I heard it'd be distributed today."
"Ah, got it. One sec!"
Woojin still stumbled a bit over stage-specific terms and titles. It was a cautious habit—some folks in the biz were hypersensitive to even the tiniest slip-ups that weren't real mistakes. But Oh Tae-hyeop seemed utterly unbothered. Handing over the neatly bound script, he even added that Woojin should take his time adjusting, with a smile. So Woojin smiled back.
Just as a sports team's style shifts dramatically with the coach's tactics, a troupe driven by teamwork takes on the vibe of its leader. The current atmosphere at Actor's Yard, infused with Leader Jeong Jae-min's philosophy and convictions, could be summed up in one word: soft.
His debut had been amid great people and vibes, and his theater debut seemed headed the same way.
"Any questions? Feel free to ask."
With the schedule rundown done, Oh Tae-hyeop prompted. Woojin glanced at the plan in his hand, pondering.
Mapping it to the familiar film/drama pipeline: pre-production was wrapped. The internal auditions had eaten up a week and three days, leaving just over a week till next Monday for script analysis and new character work. The four weeks of rehearsals starting the Monday after would be production proper, with the final run-through as post-production. And the ensuing six-week run would mirror a film's release or a drama's broadcast.
Drawing from his screen acting experience, Woojin was piecing together the structure of stage work, step by step. So his question sprang from elsewhere.
"PD-nim, one thing I'm curious about."
"Yes, Actor Woojin."
"Do Team A and Team B have different rehearsal schedules?"
"No, identical."
"Time slots too?"
"Yep."
Woojin tilted his head at Oh Tae-hyeop's reply and pressed on.
"So staff bounce between the two simultaneous rehearsals?"
Oh Tae-hyeop paused. Then, snapping his fingers with a click, he got it.
"Ah! No. They attend sequentially. Both teams start at the same time, but staff—including me—always observe Team A first."
To sum his explanation: This stemmed from a core screen-vs.-stage difference. Only in theater do cast and crew huddle for long-term joint rehearsals. Films and dramas rarely do it. Even full-staff run-throughs are limited to big crowd scenes or complex action with tricky blocking—max a day, often half.
No need for extended cast practice: it's a "video" art, editable endlessly. Acting elements like tone and movement are tailored to shots and cuts first, so cast-crew sync is more top-down direction than collaborative practice. That's why directing is the director's art—their vision frames the acting.
But theater? No edits in a live show. Every visible acting choice needs ironclad logic. If an actor crosses from stage left to right, there must be a damn good reason. Slurred speech? It has to mesh with the counterpart's tone. Acting justifies itself first; then directing elements like sets, lights, sound support it. The opposite of screen, where acting bends to fixed camera paths and moves. With actors syncing live onstage, staff must assist every rehearsal.
Oh Tae-hyeop's rundown was crisp. He added that prioritizing Team A was natural—a fair reward for fair competition.
"Got it."
"Any more questions, just holler anytime."
"Thanks, PD-nim."
Woojin nodded. Then—
Knock knock.
Choi Yeong-do entered.
"Sunbaenim, food's here."
"Ah, yeah?"
Lee Kang-sik asked Jeong Jae-min.
"Hyungnim, you haven't eaten, right?"
"Nah."
"Knew it. I keep telling you to eat a solid breakfast. Let's go!"
"Where to?"
Lee Kang-sik grabbed Jeong Jae-min's arm, hauling him up.
"Figured you and the hoobaes were all fasting, so I set up breakfast. First group meal, and the rep skips out? No way!"
Woojin and Oh Tae-hyeop followed the seniors to the basement rehearsal room. Tasty dishes lined the floor. Over thirty folks sat in a circle.
"Brings back memories."
"Man, things have upgraded. Used to be jajangmyeon every damn day, no tangsuyuk. Now stews, rice, sides... a feast fit for kings. Hahaha!"
"Dig in!"
"Let's eat well!"
"Thanks, sunbaenim!"
With food breaking the ice, awkward faces warmed fast. Choi Yeong-do, cast as the Team A doctor, was especially welcoming. They chatted tons, fired up to crush it together. Woojin was already pumped for their ensemble.
"See you at the first rehearsal!"
Great convos with new connections, but no hogging their time. Woojin slipped out, dropped Lee Kang-sik home, then headed to his own place. Driving, he replayed the talks in his head. One line lingered, the head-tilter.
'Team A gets priority over B in everything. It's only natural.'
Not wrong, but it didn't sit right personally.
"Hm..."
Why the unease? It clung like a cloud till he pulled into the driveway.
* * *
Scribble scribble scribble.
Home, Woojin plopped on the living room sofa and wrote furiously. Terrifying focus. Pages filled dense with text. The red-glowing leather cover quivered with the pen tip.
The Diary. Three months gone.
"Whew."
How long? Woojin set down the pen, leaned back with a deep breath. Glancing around, delivery boxes piled neatly on the living room desk corner.
Pfft. Woojin chuckled dryly. Easter egg much? Every virtual dive since moving to Cheongdam-dong left the living room like this.
Whirr.
Soft light bloomed from the diary.
...Desk cleanup later.
An invitation message has arrived.
Familiar words. Missed 'em.
Accept?
Of course. Woojin hit Yes.
Manifesting the virtual world.
Enter?
Yes again. The diary floated up, flipping open with a shrrrr. Woojin stood beneath it.
Then—
Eh?
|(^π^)|
Sudden emoticon? Diary, you missed "me" too? Or... Grandma? Whatever.
May this encounter prove helpful to you.
Blinding light swelled into a vortex, swallowing Woojin. Felt... damn good.
5, 4, 3, 2, 1
Entering the Saw the Pheasant? world.