Almost Famous

Thirty-year-old bit-part actor Liu Huamin says his job is like buying a lottery ticket every week. "You make no money from the first 1,000 tickets, but the 1,001st may make you a millionaire overnight," he says. His biggest role over the past seven years had than five lines. But somehow, he never gives up.

"I used to be a barber, so did Andy Lau. I sold groceries on the street, Hong Kong actor Tony Leung Ka Fai did the same," he says.

At 23, Liu left his hometown in a Northeast China's village for acting school in Shanghai with dreams of fame and fortune. Before he embarked on his quest, he was an unemployed high-school graduate, an amateur barber and a street vendor.

Full of passion and expectations after the six-month course, he went to Hengdian, a large studio in East China's Zhejiang Province. Two years later he left the town for Beijing, a city he thought would have more opportunities.

As one of the millions of dreamers in the capital, he joined those squatting outside the gate of the Beijing Film Studio.

The plain building on the Third Ring Road is the Mecca for wannabes from all over the country, waiting for a chance to join a crew.

At 4 to 5 every morning, they assemble outside the studio. Casting staff and buses of different crews show up from time to time, picking them up to play a group of obscure soldiers or passers-by.

"Most of those waiting outside the gate get non-speaking parts or even no-face roles," Liu says. "But they keep trying, some for ideals, some just for survival."

Liu began networking and did not spend long waiting outside the gate.

He soon became familiar with the hotels that housed the producers and shuffled between them, submitting resumes and photos. Sometimes he visited ten producers a day.

He earns about 100 yuan ($14) a day when he has roles, five times the amount of common extra actors. Yet he still lives in a rented house outside the Fifth Ring Road of Beijing, catching the bus everyday between home and shooting locations.

When there is no role for him, he goes back to his sales work at subway stations. However, he counts himself luckier than most of his competitors.

Liu's friend Wang Mingying is one of the most common extras in the industry. The 30-year-old also has stars in his eyes and is still hoping to get his big break.

Ten years ago he brought his lifesavings - the entire 7,800 yuan ($1,055) he saved from his first job as a guard - and gave it to a kungfu school in Hebei. He hoped to become the next Jet Li.

During the school's stunt course, Wang and others were pushed off a two-storied building onto sponge mats. After graduation his dream of stardom came crashing back to earth. He could not get any movie work and scored a job as a salesman.

But his dream was awakened during a holiday to Hengdian where he met various production crews. He began the bit-part actor career, and found it hard to withdraw.

"You cannot imagine how powerful the drive is, when you really find something you like," he says. "Only during acting can I experience different lives. I can be a kungfu master, a hero, or even a beggar."

He quit his job three months later and stayed in Hengdian. His girlfriend left him, saying he was not doing a real job.

He moved to Beijing as soon as Liu did, only to find life was just as hard. At his most difficult times, he lived with a friend, and ate instant noodles everyday. Today, his annual income is less than what he earned a month as a salesman.

"I have no regrets," he says. "I still like the job, it's magic. Even if you make no money for 10 years, when you get famous, you can win back all the investment in the 11th year.

"That's the charm of this industry. What I lack is only a bit of luck. If I had the luck of Wang Baoqiang, I would also be a star."

Wang is one of the lucky ones sitting outside the Beijing Film Studio. He has co-starred in a Feng Xiaogang film and featured in a hit TV drama.

Also a believer of the "luck theory" is Li Jun. The former bank guard left his hometown in Inner Mongolia in 2000. After several years of squatting outside the studio, he now works in different crews, assisting the lighting directors or cinematographers.

His work involves pushing the track or helping control the elevator. Every morning he gets up at 5, because he is living on the outskirts of the city where the rent is low.

Usually he finishes work at 9 pm, sometimes at midnight or even later. Li says he is happy about the job, because at least he remains part of the game, so that when the chance comes, he will be ready to go.

Li's income can be anywhere from nothing to 2,000 yuan ($270) a month, he says.

He remembers clearly the first day he saw Li Yong (a famous TV anchorman), who was driving a BMW. "The whole day I was thinking, can I be like him one day?"

The passion fades day by day, though. When in 2004 he saw director Chen Kaige among thousands of extras playing soldiers in the blockbuster The Promise (Wu Ji), he was not excited at all.

"I have seen so many who gave up," he says. "They changed the job or went back to their hometowns. When you see so few can make it in this industry, you feel frustrated. But meanwhile I cannot leave now - I have been buying the lottery for ten years, maybe the 11th year is my year. If I left now, I would regret."

Li says he wants badly to hear the voices of his parents, but he seldom calls back, feeling ashamed that he is unsuccessful in his career and does not have a family at 30.

His mother urges him to marry all the time, but he can hardly support himself. His friend Wang says Li only calls after getting roles with lines.

In their spare time, Li and his friends read lines to each other and play short skits. They dream about attending real film academies, knowing that a diploma really counts in China. But thinking of the high fees, all they can do is sigh.

"This industry is cruel. Really very few can make it," says Wu Yuanchao, a TV producer. "You need not only efforts, patience, but also a bit of luck. So before you enter the world, ask yourself whether you are prepared, both physically and mentally."

But Li and his friends say acting is an addiction. "Chance is a seductive thing," Li says. "Sometimes I can see it, but most times I cannot. I want to leave, but my feet cannot move."

(China Daily 12/25/2007 page20)