Chapter 120: A Documentary of His Life

A stuntman refers to a professional who performs action sequences in place of actors during dangerous scenes in movies or dramas that are too risky for the lead actors to film themselves.

In Korea, stuntmen are primarily employed in crime thrillers, noir films, caper movies, or the comedy genre.

In 2008, a documentary titled We Are Action Actors was released, which somewhat raised the professional awareness of stuntmen — often referred to as action actors — in our country.

Until then, there wasn’t much interest in their profession, as they were often viewed merely as "stand-ins" for actors and were exposed to dangerous situations without much recognition.

However, no matter how much awareness has grown, there is still a significant difference from the situation in Hollywood, where a full-fledged action film industry has taken root.

Specifically, depending on production costs and environmental factors, the average annual salary for a stuntman in Korea is around thirty to forty million won, whereas in Hollywood, double that amount is the baseline.

Given this situation, for Korean stuntmen who earn a monthly salary of about 2.5 million won, this job has literally become something that cannot be done without passion.

Through this research, Kim Seung-pyo and I began gathering interviews with current stuntmen while simultaneously collecting footage of the late Ko Sang-young.

We contacted the directors of the movies and dramas that stuntman Ko Sang-young had appeared in, explained the situation, and collected as much footage as possible from before his face was replaced by the lead actors.

I edited these together and produced a documentary under the working title Stuntman Ko Sang-young.

It was my first time writing a documentary, but I wrote it carefully, binge-watching documentaries on Gatflix to figure out which format would fit best.

Afterward, the first thing we did was look for his family.

Kim Seung-pyo and I met Ko Sang-young’s younger sister, Ko Min-ji, first, and then we all headed to his parents' house together.

"You want to make a documentary about Sang-young?"

Ko Sang-young’s mother, who appeared to be in her sixties, asked as she brought out tea after listening to Director Kim Seung-pyo’s explanation. Her face looked incredibly weary.

"If you don’t want it, we won’t release any parts featuring Ko Sang-young at all. We intend to make the work a documentary about stuntmen in general, so please don’t feel pressured and speak comfortably. We will follow the family’s wishes entirely. Regardless of the outcome, the proceeds from the documentary will be given to the family."

"I don’t want Sang-young’s name to be on people’s lips anymore," his mother said, settling heavily into her seat as if exhausted. "I hated him doing that dangerous work from the very beginning."

"Mom. Still, Sang-young was happiest when he was doing that job."

Ko Min-ji, who was supporting her mother, spoke up softly on her brother’s behalf.

"Enough. I agree with your mother. I don’t want to hear people talking about this and that anymore. It’s not like we’re trying to profit by selling out our dead child. I don’t want to hear about profits or anything like that."

"I apologize if I made you feel uncomfortable."

Despite the sincere apology, the family didn’t say more, but they seemed to have clearly expressed their refusal.

"Mom. Dad. I saw the rough cut the Writer and Director sent me. You two were always disappointed that he was on TV but his face never showed. But they say this movie is entirely for him. He’s the protagonist, and his work and life are all in it. How can we, his family, refuse that?"

"..."

"I think he would want this movie to come out into the world."

Director Kim Seung-pyo lightly touched Ko Min-ji’s arm, as if indicating it was okay now.

"Thank you for taking the time to meet us when you must still be feeling distressed. We should get going now."

After offering a polite bow, Director Kim Seung-pyo and I stood up.

A section of the wall where a family photo must have hung was stark white, unlike the surrounding wallpaper.

Since we couldn't fully empathize with their agonizing hearts, we had no choice but to respect their decision.

"Can I see that video once?"

Ko Sang-young’s father asked, still sitting in his spot.

"Yes. I’ll show you."

Director Kim Seung-pyo connected the laptop he brought to the living room TV and played the rough cut.

Kim Seung-pyo and I decided to step out so they could watch in peace.

Sitting on a bench within the apartment complex, Kim Seung-pyo and I waited for their decision in silence.

"Writer, were you originally interested in documentaries?"

Director Kim Seung-pyo asked tentatively, as if trying to break the heavy atmosphere.

"No. Not really, but I’ve recently come across a few good ones. Documentaries certainly have a certain resonance. Since they construct a story using real people and events, they have a powerful strength."

"That’s true. I tried to produce documentaries a few times when I was in college, but the scripts were really difficult. How should I put it... if you’re not careful, they become too preachy. If the audience feels like they’re being lectured, it’s a failure."

"That’s why I personally hoped this documentary would be Ko Sang-young’s story rather than just a general story about stuntmen. When you follow a person’s life, everyone is bound to feel something different."

"You’re right. I felt that while reading the script you wrote. That you were trying to show Ko Sang-young the human being, not just Ko Sang-young the stuntman."

The reason I could do that was because I had watched the documentaries An Yuseok and Cheon Na Young on Gatflix.

Those documentaries certainly covered the actors' careers, but they also captured what kind of lives they had lived and, consequently, what kind of people they had become.

'I was certain that anyone who watched them would have no choice but to fall in love with the protagonists. Just as I fell for An Yuseok and Cheon Na Young as human beings.'

"Writer! Director!"

Ko Min-ji came out carrying Director Kim Seung-pyo’s laptop.

"My parents gave their permission. They want to do it."

"Really?"

"Yes. They both cried so much while watching. My dad didn’t even shed a single tear at the funeral, but he sobbed like a child after seeing this video."

"That breaks my heart."

"No. Thank you. If it wasn't for this documentary, it would have taken both Mom and Dad much longer to accept his death."

"We’re the ones who are grateful that you feel that way."

"I’m getting married at the end of this year, and my brother was supposed to sing the celebratory song. He’s gone now, but there’s a scene in the video where he’s singing... would it be okay if I played that?"

"Of course. It would be an honor."

"I hope you make it well so everyone in the world knows what a wonderful actor my brother was."

As Ko Min-ji smiled brightly, I saw an overlap with the smile Ko Sang-young often showed in the footage.

"We definitely will."

Director Kim Seung-pyo, who usually avoided making certainties, answered firmly as he took back the laptop.

This work was incredibly precious to him, to me, and to Ko Min-ji and her parents.

We could all tell, even without saying a word.

Various measures and compensation had been arranged to resolve the situation following the filming accident on Traveler.

However, considering several factors such as the psychological treatment of the staff, legal action against the car company, and the public sentiment, it looked like filming would be suspended for at least two weeks.

Because of this, Director Kim Seung-pyo decided to take charge of editing the documentary Stuntman Ko Sang-young in the meantime.

Only a very small number of people knew that the documentary was proceeding, and Gatflix expressed a very positive response.

That made sense, as in the case of the United States, where Gatflix’s headquarters is located, they possessed many high-quality documentaries and were known as a "documentary powerhouse" to people all over the world.

However, Gatflix Korea had been sluggish, failing to produce a proper documentary.

Team Leader Jang Yeon-hee of Gatflix, who saw the rough cut, showed an enthusiastic response, saying that while the demand for the documentary genre in Korea isn't huge, the quality of provided works had also been disappointing.

She immediately linked us with Documentary Team One to push it forward quickly.

Even Gatflix, which had invested a large sum, seemed intent on providing support by mobilizing all means and methods to ensure filming could resume.

Of course, all matters were kept strictly confidential.

This was to prevent any misunderstandings or further deterioration of public opinion that might occur if articles were published prematurely.

At my request, Stuntman Ko Sang-young was to be released quietly without any excessive promotional descriptions.

I judged that if people saw it through word of mouth and formed a positive opinion, the negative sentiment that had affected Traveler would naturally dissipate.

Still, thanks to Team Leader Jang, the documentary, which I had intended to proceed with modestly on a small budget, progressed smoothly with support within a proper production environment.

It was a dire situation, but fortunately, with the help of many people, I was able to do my best.

The current situation also helped me give it my all.

Thanks to Gatflix, I had worked on dramas with a high success rate so far.

I was confident that this drama would also do well once it resumed.

This sense of security was a great help in fully accepting and overcoming the tragedy.

That was when I received a call from Grace Kim, who had returned to the United States.

— Jeong-hyeok. How are you doing?

When I briefly shared the situation in Korea and my well-being, Grace expressed her regret that she couldn't be there for the situation in Korea due to her busy schedule.

"No. I heard that you sent consolation money to Ko Sang-young's family. Thank you."

— That’s just something that obviously had to be done.

"Is thinking that it's 'obvious' a Hollywood thing?"

— Hehe. Then let’s just say it’s because my character is excellent.

"Okay."

— Oh, right. Since we’re talking about Hollywood, let’s have our fifth date.

"...I wonder what Hollywood has to do with a date."

As if she read my momentary hesitation, Grace asked lightly.

— There’s someone I want to show you under the guise of a date.

"Really? In Korea?"

— No. In Hollywood.

Grace said there was someone from Hollywood she wanted to introduce me to and that she would send a plane ticket, so if I wasn't busy, I should come to LA for a date.

When I asked what kind of person it was that she was putting so much effort into introducing them, Grace spoke directly without any hesitation.

— Because I want you to enter Hollywood as your next step, Jeong-hyeok.