Early on Thursday morning, Martin got into his old Ford and rushed to the Midtown Art Theater.
In the theater plaza next to Peachtree Street, a crowd of hundreds had gathered.
This was a gathering place for temporary actors in Atlanta.
In plain terms, it was a temporary labor market.
Martin had co here yesterday morning and even encountered a TBS TV program selecting audience actors, but he wasn't chosen.
Whether in Los Angeles or Atlanta, the supply of bottom-tier actors far exceeds demand.
Lacking connections and organizational support, even finding pure background artist work required luck.
Martin found a place to park his car and upon entering the plaza, he saw Robert's big head.
Robert's hair was neatly combed, and he was dressed in an old-fashioned suit, saying, "We just have to wait, the captain hasn't co over yet."
Martin took a quick glance and asked, "Did you put this together specifically?"
Robert replied, "This might increase the chances of being chosen, but honestly, I don't have any other ideas—I'd be happy with just a line."
Indeed, it was all about luck, and Martin said, "Buddy, good luck to you."
People from the Marietta Theatre Company trickled in, including Martin; all of them were temporary workers and penniless.
Captain Jero drove up in a Lexus, asking everyone from the theater company to wait at the edge of the plaza. He made a call, and once a bus stopped on Peachtree Street, he shook hands with the fat man who got out, exchanged a few words, then waved towards the plaza, "Get on."
The fat man, not seeing anyone oddly or particularly striking in appearance, spoke another word to Jero and then began selecting temporary workers.
Martin hurried to the front and boarded the bus, scanning the front row by the door where a folder lay on the inside seat.
He chose a seat on the other side of the sa row, while Robert went further inside.
Martin sat on the outside, observing the plaza through the window.
The fat man was picking people, and the selection thod was simple: choose those who looked the part.
Martin deduced from recent information that Atlanta, being far from film production centers like New York and Los Angeles, had just unveiled incentive policies and lacked a mature market for extras and an established system of agents.
To so extent, Jero was equivalent to an agent.
The laws and regulations of California and New York didn't apply here.
The bus quickly filled with people, and the fat man stood just across the narrow aisle from Martin.
Martin refrained from striking up a conversation rashly.
The bus hadn't gone far along Peachtree Street when it suddenly slowed down.
Up ahead, near the State Capitol Building area, a protest march appeared.
Television and newspaper reporters were also following and filming the event.
The fat man craned his neck, focusing on what was ahead. He didn't curse; instead, he said, "Let's give way to those people. Once they've passed the next intersection, we'll turn and take a detour."
Printed on the vests of the protesters was the na "ATL Freedom Association." Martin gauged the fat man's reaction and mumbled to himself as if thinking out loud, "Are they fighting for their legitimate rights?"
His voice wasn't loud but was audible to the fat man, who replied casually, "This is a famous progressive group in Atlanta; they've done many remarkable things."
Martin confird that the fat man was inclined towards the protesters and imdiately adjusted his seat, "Are they doing sothing remarkable this ti too?"
The fat man clearly knew, "Several conservative leaders from the Wesleyan Association of Georgia claid that won are rely dependents of the family and must follow the will of the family, sparking this protest."
Martin said, "That's a very socially significant move."
The chubby guy proudly said, "One of the organizers of this event is Mrs. Kelly Gray, the boss of our Gray Company."
Unexpectedly, this chubby guy was a good employee who reflected his boss's sense of urgency. Martin quickly found a topic to forge a closer relationship, saying, "My friend, and many of her friends, have always wanted to join the Freedom Association to do sothing for the fight for freedom, like participating in socially aningful events. They're always ready to participate.
It's just a pity that they can't find the right person to introduce them."
As long as food is provided, let alone a few dozen people, Elena could bring hundreds of people from the Clayton Community.
As for Elena volunteering at the Conservative Faction of the thodist Association.
That's not the point, Elena has said that as long as the compensation is right, it doesn't matter who she believes in.
"I know many distinguished mbers of the association." The chubby man definitely had a future at Gray Company, actively recruiting supporters for his boss. He took out a business card and handed it to Martin, "I'm Andrew, call anyti if you want to join."
Martin accepted it seriously, took out a prepared business card and handed it over, "Martin Davis."
Just before the bus turned off Peachtree Street, another marching group entered Peachtree Street, bearing the flag of the thodist Association.
The two groups hurled insults at each other across the divide, sparking an uproar in the neighborhood.
The happiest among them were the dia reporters.
......
After half an hour or so, the bus arrived at a farm north of Atlanta.
The production crew had rented the farm and set up so 19th-century plantation-style scenes. Actors dressed in period costus were already made up beside the wooden houses serving as temporary makeup rooms.
As Martin got off the bus, he saw Captain Jero waiting at the entrance of the farm.
Andrew approached Jero and said directly, "There are two special roles, with a daily pay of 100 US Dollars, working until 4:30 p.m., with overti at an hourly rate of 10 US Dollars. Get so of your best actors over here."
Pure extras were paid by the hour, just 5.15 US Dollars.
Jero imdiately thought of that idiot Martin who still owed him mbership fees and was the first to call out his na, "Martin, co here!" Then he shouted, "Cohler, Robert, Jones."
Nobody owes money! Jero then told the chubby Andrew, "Martin is not bad, you might want to consider him first."
Andrew rembered the na, and as soon as the person arrived, he picked Martin, "Martin Davis, and... you, co with ."
Robert, who followed close behind Martin, beca the other lucky one.
Jero led the two towards the wooden house, while the others had to follow the set personnel to the open-air temporary makeup area.
Robert nudged Martin, and Martin signaled him to keep quiet with his eyes.
The two followed Jero into the wooden house and, after waiting for a bit, were called in to get their makeup done.
While they were changing and having their makeup done, an assistant ca over to brief them on the scene.
There were no lines for their roles, but there was plenty of movent involved.
The two played assassins trying to kill the female lead. They ran into the garden where the female lead was, only to be shot down by the male lead. Then cos the heroic rescue and the love story between the male and female leads.
In other words, for the filming of this scene, Martin and Robert needed to lie dead throughout.
Background artists lying dead on the ground, of course, earned more than those standing.
Robert was a seasoned background artist; Martin went without saying.
There was no difficulty up front, just strictly following their marks. After shooting twice, they were done. One of the tis the director called cut because the male lead dropped his gun.
Then ca the big scene, where the two lay motionless on the ground.
The male and female leads embraced each other deeply…
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