On this day, the gates of New Line Cinema were crowded with people.
A huge audition event was taking place.
Because The Lord of the Rings was being filmed in three parts—a groundbreaking project—there were a lot of roles to cast. For Hollywood's middle- and lower-tier actors, struggling to find work, this was an opportunity of a lifetime.
Many had never seen such a wealth of roles available to lesser-known actors like themselves in a movie.
When Robinbaum and Orlando Bloom arrived at New Line, the place was already bustling.
Nearly every role had three to four people vying for it, and with over thirty roles to audition for, hundreds of actors were participating.
To speed up the process, the film's production team divided the auditions into four groups: A, B, C, and D.
Group A auditioned for the lead roles, members of the Fellowship of the Ring.Group B auditioned for major supporting roles—those that were crucial to the plot and had substantial dialogue.Group C auditioned for minor supporting roles, those with just one or two lines and brief appearances.Group D was for the smallest roles, essentially "extras," and was outsourced to a casting agency.
There were simply too many people.
Despite New Line's growing success, it was still a small production company affiliated with Warner Bros. Their headquarters was limited in space, and with hundreds of people crammed inside, the environment was chaotic.
This also gave some people with ulterior motives a chance to take advantage.
Orlando Bloom, on his way to the dressing room, noticed a pretty actress entering the men's room with a man who appeared to be a New Line employee.
Robinbaum, walking beside him, sneered and muttered, "That woman is confused. I've seen that guy before. He's a clerk at the bottom of New Line, with no power. She's probably been tricked."
"What a mess!" Orlando Bloom lamented.
"This is how this industry works," Robinbaum said with a shake of his head. "For a chance, people will fight like wild dogs. I once saw an actress slip laxatives into a competitor's water, just to make her look foolish during an audition."
Orlando Bloom was stunned. "Isn't that method too despicable?"
"Despicable? It's a drop in the bucket compared to what people will do to climb up—destroying a competitor's costume, spreading itching powder in their underwear, causing car accidents, even injuring someone on set... the list goes on."
Robinbaum looked at Orlando seriously. "You've just entered this world. You don't know how ruthless people can be. Be careful—never drink water that's been opened, never eat food offered by strangers, keep your costumes with your assistant, and most importantly, don't offend anyone you can't afford to!"
"Like Martin?" Orlando asked.
"Yes, like Martin!"
Orlando sighed, "It's sad for someone starting out. When can I be like Martin—standing at the top of this industry, without a care in the world?"
"Keep working hard, kid. Take it step by step. You can do it!" Robinbaum encouraged, but privately he thought it was impossible. Orlando didn't have Martin's family background or talent, and the chances of him reaching Martin's level were slim to none.
They entered the actor's dressing room, where they saw Viggo Mortensen, who was preparing for his role as Aragorn. He was already getting his makeup done.
"This guy is nearly a lock for the role," Robinbaum whispered. "The other contenders are just here to fill out the competition. That's why I didn't let you consider it."
"Who's behind him?" Orlando asked.
"His mentor is Warren Robertson, who has a wide network and is very well-connected. Aragorn will be his role."
"Warren Robertson?" Orlando thought for a moment. "The founder of the Warren Robertson School of Drama in New York?"
"That's the one."
Orlando Bloom couldn't help but feel envious.
Although he had also graduated from a professional drama school—the Guildhall School of Music and Drama in London—his influence in Hollywood was minimal.
Hollywood did have its own network of English actors who supported each other, but Orlando hadn't earned the right to be part of that circle yet. Robinbaum's network, though not high-level, was still wide.
They entered the dressing room, where Robinbaum led Orlando Bloom to the makeup artist responsible for Faramir's look. After a quick exchange, he waved the artist over.
An actor who had been waiting before Orlando Bloom scowled, muttering, "Why does he get to go first?"
Although his voice wasn't quiet, the other actors—also competing for the role of Faramir—remained silent, some even giving him mocking glances. The atmosphere grew awkward.
The makeup artist glanced at the disgruntled actor before coolly responding, "If you don't like it, you can leave. I'll put makeup on whoever I feel like first."
The man fell silent and stayed in place, pretending to be oblivious.
There was no room for the usual "underdog triumphs" fantasy here. This wasn't a fantasy braindead novel.
The makeup artist turned his attention back to Orlando Bloom, sizing him up with a slight gleam in his eyes—every makeup artist hoped to work with a handsome face.
And Orlando Bloom's face was undeniably a good one.
"What a pity," the artist thought. "This face should be used for an elf, not a rough character like Faramir."
"Boy, take a seat," the artist instructed.
"Uh, thank you," Orlando said, glancing at Robinbaum, who gave him a knowing look.
The makeup process began, and as it progressed, a small smile tugged at the artist's lips.
"Very impressive," the makeup artist muttered.
As the makeup was applied, Orlando's already striking features began to take on a slightly rougher edge, but still carried an air of elegance. The thick brows and faint beard added a regal touch to his youthful face, giving him an unexpected sense of authority.
When the other actors behind him saw his appearance, their frustration was palpable.
This was the power of a good face.
[•———•——•———•]
𝙥𝗮𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙤𝙣(.)𝙘𝙤𝙢/𝙂𝙤𝙙𝙊𝙛𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧