There's No Business Like (Chinese) Show Business

The stereotype of the young folks who head to Hollywood with big dreams and stars in their eyes is a familiar one. If the movies and TV have taught me anything it is that just about anybody who tells you they're an actor is probably a waiter/ress or a barista waiting for their big break. Today, the Los Angeles times ran a long article on the front page in Column One about the life of Chinese movie extras in Beijing waiting for their big break, Chinese want a piece of 'Action!'

The life of a Chinese extra bears little resemblance to their Hollywood counterparts:

Production companies pay $7 to $12 a day for extras, but less than half of that generally reaches the actors, given the giant sucking sound of middlemen. Many are poorly treated during production of the 400 movies and thousands of television programs made here each year. This is a country, after all, where lax labor laws can make it cheaper to use humans than computer automation.

Complaints of agent rip-offs abound. Some of the victims who stream in from the provinces with stars in their eyes and a few hard-earned dollars in their pocket find themselves locked in houses where they're charged for food, rent, costumes and agent fees until they're broke, says Zhang Gang, co-founder of the Self-Support Center for Small-Time Actors, a group that fights exploitation.

...

Chen Haoran, 21, offers a tour of his living quarters: a pile of rug liners, some old clothes and a plastic Mickey Mouse shopping bag in a pedestrian underpass he shares with 20 men 300 yards from the gate. You get used to the steady stream of people staring at you, he says, but those who cover their noses in disgust as they pass, not so much.

The lights on the roof of the tunnel burn all night, he says, and the underpass floods when it rains. When it gets really bad, he sleeps in a chair in an Internet cafe for $2 a night.

The police sometimes chase them out of the underpass, but most residents drift back. "Our dreams are here," he says.

Despite the difficulties, dreams still come true:

But the highs can make it all worthwhile, some say. "It's such a joy to act," says Ding Liang, 57, who became an extra after being a soldier, farmer, miner and laborer. "Once you do it well, you feel such a sense of achievement. It's better than anything else I've done in my life."

Another source of inspiration is the likes of Wang Baoqiang, a Hebei village boy who haunted these same gates as recently as 2004 before catapulting to fame. In late August, Wang was voted the most popular TV actor in China, arguably making him one of the biggest stars on the planet.

Across town at his studio, Wang, 24, now surrounded by publicists, producers and hangers-on, reflects on his meteoric rise and the dream he embodies for many extras. "I know many see their hope in me," he says. "As an extra, I lived in a shabby room and earned a few dollars a day. Now, I'm supporting my parents. I feel like I'm living the dream."