Chapter 12: Chapter 12: The Priority of Debt
On Thursday early morning, Martin drove his old Ford to the Midtown Art Theatre.
Hundreds of people gathered at the theatre plaza next to Peachtree Street.
This was Atlanta's gathering spot for extras.
To put it plainly, it was a temp labor market.
Martin came here yesterday morning and encountered a TBS TV show selecting audience actors, but he wasn't chosen.
Whether in Los Angeles or Atlanta, the supply of low-level actors far exceeded the demand.
Lacking connections and not belonging to any organization, even finding work as a pure background artist required luck.
Martin parked his car and spotted Robert's large head as soon as he entered the plaza.
Robert had his hair neatly combed and wore an old-fashioned suit. He said, "Wait a bit, the director hasn't arrived yet."
Martin glanced at him, "Dressed up specially?"
Robert replied, "This increases the chances of being chosen. Honestly, I just want a line."
Luck really mattered. Martin said, "Buddy, good luck to you."
Members of the Marietta Theatre Group arrived one after another. All of them, including Martin, were temps and broke.
The director, Jerome, arrived in a Lexus and told everyone to wait at the edge of the plaza. He made a call then greeted a heavyset guy who got off a bus on Peachtree Street. Jerome shook hands with him, said a few words, and then waved towards the plaza, "Get on the bus."
The heavyset guy saw that there were no oddly unattractive or particularly unique-looking people and told Jerome before selecting the temps.
Martin quickly rushed to the bus, grabbing a seat in the row directly behind the file binder placed on the inside seat of the front door.
He chose the seat on the other side of the same row, with Robert sitting inside.
Martin sat on the outer side, watching the plaza through the window.
The heavyset guy was choosing people, simply picking whoever he found pleasing.
Based on recent information, Martin judged that, being away from New York and Los Angeles, Atlanta didn't yet have a mature market for extras or a supporting agents system, with incentive policies just rolling out.
To some extent, Jerome acted as an agent.
California and New York laws didn't apply here.
The bus quickly filled up, and the heavyset guy was just an aisle away from Martin.
Martin didn't strike up a conversation rashly.
The bus drove along Peachtree Street for a short distance before suddenly slowing down.
Up ahead near the State Capitol, there was a protest.
TV and newspaper reporters were also covering it.
The heavyset guy stretched his neck to watch without cursing. Instead, he said, "Let's make way for them. Once they pass the next intersection, we'll turn and take a detour."
The name "ATL Freedom Association" was printed on the protesters' vests. Judging by the heavyset guy's attitude, Martin murmured, "Fighting for their rights?"
Though not loud, the heavyset guy heard him and said casually, "That's Atlanta's renowned progressive group. They've done a lot of incredible things."
Martin deduced that the heavyset guy sided with the protesters, adjusted his position, and said, "This time too, they are doing something incredible?"
The heavyset guy clearly knew about it, "Some conservative leaders of the Georgia Methodist Association claimed that women are merely household subordinates and should follow family wills, sparking this protest."
Martin said, "A very meaningful action."
With pride, the heavyset guy said, "One of the organizers this time is our boss at Gray Company, Ms. Kelly Gray."
Unexpectedly, the heavyset guy was a dedicated employee. Martin quickly seized this chance to bond, saying, "My friend and many of her friends have always wanted to join the Freedom Association and contribute to the cause of fighting for their rights. They are eager to participate in such meaningful activities, but they haven't found the right introduction."
If meals were provided, Elena could even get a few hundred people from the Clayton community, let alone dozens.
As for Elena volunteering at the conservative Methodist Association, that wasn't the main point. Elena always said, belief aligned wherever the pay was right.
"I know many outstanding people in the association." The heavyset guy, who definitely had a bright future at Gray Company, handed Martin a business card: "I'm Andrew. If you want to join, just give me a call anytime."
Martin took it seriously, then handed over his prepared business card: "Martin Davis."
Before the bus exited Peachtree Street, another protest group entered the street with the Methodist Association banner.
The two sides hurled insults at each other from a distance, and the whole area was in chaos.
The media reporters were the happiest.
...
After over half an hour, the bus arrived at a farm in northern Atlanta.
The crew had rented the farm and temporarily set up some 19th-century plantation-styled sets. By some wooden houses used as makeshift dressing rooms, actors in period costumes had already finished their makeup.
Martin got off the bus and saw Jerome waiting at the farm entrance.
Andrew approached Jerome directly, saying, "There are two special roles; the daily rate is $100. Work ends at 4:30 PM, and overtime pays $10 per hour. Get your best actors."
Background extras were only paid $5.15 per hour.
Jerome immediately thought of the idiot Martin, who still owed him fees, and first named him: "Martin, come here!" Then he called out, "Kohler, Robert, Jones."
No one could owe him money! Jerome then said to Andrew, "Martin's good, you should consider him first."
Andrew remembered the name and picked Martin as soon as he saw him: "Martin Davis, and... you, follow me."
Robert, who followed closely behind Martin, became the other lucky one.
Jerome led them towards the wooden house, while the rest followed the crew to the open-air temporary makeup area.
Robert poked Martin, who signaled with his eyes for him to shut up.
They followed Jerome to the wooden house and waited a bit before being notified to go in for makeup.
While getting their makeup and costumes, an assistant came to explain the scene.
There were no speaking lines, but plenty of movement.
They played the roles of assassins trying to kill the female lead, rushing into a garden before being shot by the male lead. Then, there would be a rescue scene leading to the male and female leads falling in love.
Basically, Martin and Robert needed to play dead bodies throughout that scene.
Background artists lying on the ground earned more than those standing.
Robert was a seasoned background artist, and Martin even more so.
There was no difficulty upfront. They followed the blocking directions precisely and got it in two takes. The only time the director yelled cut was because the male lead fumbled, dropping his gun.
Then the main event came - they laid on the ground, motionless.
The male and female leads embraced passionately...
*****
https://www.patreon.com/Sayonara816.
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