Aura of a Genius Actor

Chapter 23: There are no Soliloquies or Dialogues in Reality

Chapter 23: There are no Soliloquies or Dialogues in Reality

? There are no Soliloquies or Dialogues in Reality ?

“How could I know something you don’t know? Where did you come from?”

“Well, I can’t really remember. It seemed like a very dark place.”

Yoomyeong’s gaze stared into the void, his tone resonating softly. Seon-ha realized that this guy was not simply throwing back lines, but was ‘acting.’

‘Was his character already formed just from exchanging a few lines?’

He was even faithfully following the format of the task, [Contradiction].

“There’s no dark place around here. Darkness is scary.”

“I’m not scared. I’ve cultivated my strength in the darkness.”

“Strength? You seem very frail. You don’t look like you’d have any strength.”

“Strength isn’t just about violence. I have the power to fly.”

“Power to fly?”

Oops.

Seon-ha had forgotten to [Contradict] first. The line he came up with on the spot, the character created, was so convincing that it was filled with a sense of pride and fullness. Seon-ha, who had been listening to those emotions, forgot that it was a task and ended up asking back.

As Seon-ha raised her hand first, Yoomyeong also finished contradicting and answered with a bright smile.

“Yes. Thanks to you, I remembered. I know it now. I am a butterfly.”

It was a one-act play that was completed in a short time.

The members were all speechless at the quick-wittedness and creativity of the peer actor who just showed his face at Oedipus.

Only Seon-ha extended her hand with a broad smile.

“Young actor, you’re quite an entertaining performer.”

*

The acting workshop, with a daily allocation of 1 to 3 days for each instructor, lasted for two weeks.

Individual assignments focused on the theme of characterization.

Body workshops were for optimizing physical balance.

Two-person groups were made to intensely sympathize with each other and bring out their natural emotions.

Four-person groups were formed to maximize their image and creativity through collaboration.

The Oedipus members began to admire Yoomyeong as they went through various tasks together.

“That Shin Yoomyeong guy is really a mystery.”

“Yeah. But isn’t he growing on you the more you see him? At first, I thought he was some arrogant guy back when he was yelling at Yu-ri, but surprisingly, he’s got a decent personality.”

“Yeah. He discreetly helped me out when I was struggling a bit.”

“Sometimes, I do get annoyed thinking that Yoomyeong is really favored by God. How could someone who just started acting this year not have a task he can’t do?”

“But he does work really hard. He knew the script so well, so I asked him how he knew, and he said that he had always wanted to act but didn’t have the conditions to do so, so he read scripts day and night and practiced on his own.”

“Ah, is that so? It’s usually awkward to learn acting from a book, but he’s impressive.”

The impression of Oedipus had changed for Yoomyeong as well.

“Senior, isn’t the tempo there one-two-, not one-two-three-?”

“Eh? You’re right. Sorry, let’s do it again.”

Unlike Changcheon, there was no authoritative behavior between seniors and juniors. They freely proposed opinions and discussed them. This was a fresh shock to Yoomyeong, who was accustomed to the chronic hierarchical order of the theater world.

“I was struggling with turns during the body balance workshop yesterday. Could you take a look when you have time?”

“Yes, of course.”

There were many actors who were really hard-working, and they were open-hearted and knew how to ask for help. It meant that they were also ready to help others.

Yoomyeong gradually realized why the seniors of Oedipus had enough affection to participate in workshops by taking time out of their busy schedules, and why Seo Ryu Shin was raving about the charm of Oedipus.

Even to the last person.

“Oh, you’re early.”

“Yes.”

Although Seon Yu-ri was still cold towards him, Yoomyeong was gradually feeling more favorable towards her.

She, who was in charge of the workshop, was always the first to come and the last to leave, diligently working. She seldom asked others for help. She seemed to be the type to handle her responsibilities on her own as much as possible.

The floor where the actors sprawled was always spotlessly clean, and the beverages for the seniors were replaced with new ones every hour. Behind it all was the thoughtful care of Seon Yu-ri, quietly and swiftly moving alone.

An actor who struggled, not very savvy, and wasn’t good with flattering words.

Even Yoomyeong would find it hard to dislike such an actor.

Ah—

Yu-ri responded briefly and started her vocalization practice again. Hearing this, Yoomyeong took the initiative to extend an olive branch.

“Belting isn’t always the answer. Try using a mixed voice when vocalizing. I think that might deliver the dialogue better and produce a better tone.”

It was something he had wanted to say every time he saw Seon Yu-ri. In the early 2000s, there was a widespread misconception that belting was the only way to project one’s voice on stage. Later on, acting theories developed a lot, and perspectives emerged that different methods could be appropriate for different people.

However, the response to his suggestion was rather intense.

“Do you always find the answer that easily? How nice it must be for you.”

*

After joining Oedipus, a significant concern emerged for Seon Yu-ri.

Vocalization.

Before entering college, Yu-ri had appeared in various films and dramas, inspired by the <Paradise Diary>.

Vocalization had never been a problem for her in broadcasts, where sound sources were recorded separately. However, it became a stumbling block for her when she started acting in the theater.

One of the basics of theater vocalization was belting.

True to her nature of ‘overcoming difficulties through practice’, Yu-ri worked hard. Thus, she succeeded in implementing belting, but the problem was the sound.

Her clear and sharp voice, which suited her appearance well, lost its charm when she used the belting technique. The delivery of the dialogue was also less vivid than when she simply spoke.

“Ah— Eh— Ih— Oh— Uh—”

Yu-ri always came out to the practice room first, raising and lowering the tone of her voice, trying to make it softer, sharper, and attempting various techniques. She improved somewhat, but vocalization remained her weakness.

Last fall, she lost the lead role in Oedipus’s performance of <Romeo and Juliet> to Hye-Seon because of it.

Yu-ri lacked nothing in acting experience, attention, or skill, but since the fall production was held in a large theater, the charm and communicative power of ‘sound’ were also important. At the time, the director concluded that Yu-ri’s vocalization did not suit Juliet.

After that, as a result of repeated practice, she managed to land the role of Ophelia in this spring’s performance of “Hamlet”. However, she knew. The spring performance was a small theater performance, so it was possible because her voice could be heard to the back of the audience even if she didn’t fully use belting.

Her management, which agreed on a hiatus during her school years, kept contacting her, urging her to return.

— What’s the problem? If you return to the screen, it won’t be a problem at all.

— That’s the problem. The fact that I know I can’t do it.

— You’re not even going to continue with it after graduation, and it’s a minor genre. It just doesn’t suit you. Let’s quickly find a comeback project… Shall I send you some proposed scripts?

— No.

But Yu-ri refused.

Being unable to do something and not doing it were two different things.

Being an actress who only does film dramas because she can’t perform theater vocalization would leave an indelible wound in Yu-ri’s pride. It was a matter directly linked to the existence of her identity as an actress.

That was why she was angry when he lightly gave her advice about something she was practicing every day and struggling with.

“When it comes to assignments or acting, do you always find the answer easily? And if you practice that solution, does everything get resolved instantly? Being a genius must make life so easy.”

Without countering Yu-ri’s sharp words, Yoomyeong quietly turned around and left after adding one more sentence.

“No one knows what others are going through. There are no soliloquies or dialogues in reality.”

*

At his retreating figure, Yu-ri’s heart felt a pang of guilt.

She momentarily suppressed an unconscious desire to call him back and apologize.

“We’re not even close, and just because you’ve watched me practice a few times doesn’t mean you know anything,” she muttered to herself.

“Ah— Eh— Ih— Oh— Uh—”

“Ah— Eh— Ih— Oh— Uh—”

Yu-ri, who had practiced belting for quite some time today, began to clean the auditorium after finishing her set practice time. As she swept the floor with a broom, she remembered what he had said earlier.

— There are no soliloquies or dialogues in reality.

The reason why his words stabbed at her heart was because they really struck a chord with Yu-ri. In order to get cast in <Paradise Diary>, the young Yu-ri practiced without sleep for days and finally won the role. The first response she then received was:

— She’s pretty, her life must be easy~

And it was the same when she continued to study while acting, took the college entrance exam like everyone else, and confidently passed the entrance exam for the acting department at a national university.

— She got in through the actor’s special admission, huh? Some of us studied to death for 16 hours a day to get in.

It upset her. Still, she couldn’t rush to everyone who misunderstood her and grab them by the collar to contradict that it wasn’t true and that she had earned everything with her own skills.

‘How convenient it would be if there were soliloquies and dialogues in reality. Then there would be no misunderstandings in the world.’

As Yu-ri thought that while sweeping the floor, she suddenly stood still in the middle of the auditorium.

‘Could I be making those same misunderstandings?’

She didn’t know him. All she knew about him was that he was a rookie actor, so she concluded that no matter how hard he practiced, his absolute practice time could not be compared to hers.

But did she really know his circumstances?

Was she any different from the people who had belittled her efforts, attributing them to her ‘pretty face’ or ‘the title of a celebrity’?

Her body stiffened. Her face turned bright red as she unexpectedly discovered her own shortcomings.

After a moment, she cautiously tried to project her voice. Recalling the ‘head voice’ part of the book she had memorized on vocalization, she opened her throat and gradually closed her larynx, resonating with her breath.

Ah—

Then, she turned that sound into a line and pushed it out through her diaphragm.

“Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?”

Ah…

It was much easier.

Her voice came out clear and straight, just like her usual tone.

She was taught that the righteous path in theatrical vocalization was belting, so she felt anxious about whether she could do it this way. However, her voice, which sounded better and bigger than usual, echoed in the empty auditorium.

“Wow, Yu-ri, your voice sounds better. Did you find the right method?”

Having just arrived, Hye-Seon praised her.

Yu-ri, whose guilt was growing, dropped her head.

*

On the last day of the workshop, he finally arrived.

Yoon Hansung.

The last instructor and the most popular actor among the senior actors who were invited this time, with the highest stardom.

Everyone’s eyes were sparkling.

‘Hmm, so that’s him. He seems to have a decent style, but he lacks the presence I saw on screen…’

Hansung subtly glanced at Yoomyeong and began to speak.

“Hello. I’m actor Yoon Hansung.”

“Hello—!”

“Today, I intend to run a workshop on emotional immersion. I’m not sure if I’m qualified for it, though.”

“Ooh— BJ! BJ!”

The juniors cheered, calling out his nickname amidst their playful teasing. It was an unexpectedly informal atmosphere.

“I don’t really like that nickname. It feels like it’s suggesting that I can’t do any acting apart from tragedies.”

“Hahaha—”

“Yes, well, I am known for my sad performances. I attribute that to ‘the authenticity of emotion.’ Surprisingly, the audiences are sharp. Even though they know that it’s acting, if they don’t feel that the emotion is real, they immediately turn away. So, where does this authenticity of emotion come from?”

Hansung looked around at his juniors.

“I believe that the actor’s experience plays a significant part. Actors with many ups and downs in life tend to express emotions more richly. As you may know, my own life has not been smooth.”

He gave a self-deprecating smile.

His impoverished childhood, a long period of obscurity, and the death of his young daughter. His stained past was now packaged as a life reversal with his stardom, and it had become the subject of numerous articles. Even his anger towards the journalists contributed to the depth of his emotions.

“But that doesn’t mean you have to contract an incurable disease or lose someone around you to become a good actor. When you were sad, did you truly feel that sadness deeply? Your greatest joy, your greatest sorrow, your greatest anger; practicing portraying these feelings and deeply savoring them to broaden the spectrum of your emotions is called ‘Emotional Maximization.’”

[Emotional Maximization]

He wrote a phrase on the blackboard in the auditorium, put down the marker pen, and then warned the students.

“Today is going to be a tough day.”

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