“I really enjoyed the movie.”
“Oh, thank you very much.”
Hearing praise from Jun-seong’s mother, I answered with a slight smile.
“I’m Jun-seong’s mother.”
“Pardon?”
I already knew, of course, but I feigned surprise, widening my eyes as if caught off guard.
“I guess he never mentioned it.”
“Oh… yes.”
“Well, knowing his personality, it makes sense he’d keep it to himself.”
“Haha, yeah. He’s got a lot of secrets.”
“Still, I wanted to come say thank you. Because of you and your family, he seems to have grown into a decent person.”
“Sorry? A decent person?”
When I first met him in my early twenties, he’d clearly been kicked out of his house or something, and he was always on edge.
Granted, I was on edge too, but talking about movies together, it was like we agreed to put our sharp edges away and became friends.
Even so, hearing someone say he’d “become a decent person” didn’t really sound like him at all.
“Since he was a kid, he got into all kinds of trouble, and then one day he was suddenly set on pursuing film. I don’t know what got into him.”
“Yes, I heard a bit about that. That you didn’t speak for six years because of it…”
“I worried about him a lot, but it’s such a relief—he seems happier now.”
Just then, tears started to well in her eyes. And at the same moment, my phone rang.
[Crazy Bastard]
It was a call from Jun-seong.
No clue whether she saw the name pop up, but if I answered and she noticed it was saved under “Crazy Bastard,” there’s no way a mother would be thrilled to see her son labeled like that.
“Go ahead and take it, no worries.”
“Ah, excuse me for a moment, then.”
I stepped outside the office to answer.
“Hello?”
“Where are you?”
“Still at the theater.”
“Agape? Or that Star place we hit…?”
“Yeah, Agape. Your mom’s here in the boss’s office.”
“What? Mom’s there? Why?”
“No idea. Gotta go—she’s waiting.”
“Hey, wait—”
Click.
I went back into the office. She was dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. I pretended not to notice and sat down again.
“He talks about you a lot, you know.”
“Ah, haha. Well, he exaggerates, I’m sure.”
I did my best to play humble, waving my hand in denial. Apparently she liked that, because she looked at me with a very gentle expression.
“After seeing your movie, I understand why he praised you so much.”
“Thank you…”
We ended up talking for quite a while. She really embodied the word “mother.” She talked about how her son had been living, what he was talented at, and asked about his career path—like I was his teacher or something, even though I wasn’t.
Then—
Bang!
There was a short, forceful knock, and the door flew open.
In came Jun-seong, breathing heavily, glancing between me and his mom.
“Hah… so what brings you here?”
“You told me to come watch your movie.”
“But this is the manager’s office, though…”
It was almost funny to see him acting so polite in front of his mother—he usually never looked like this.
“Did Dad not come?”
“He’s working.”
“What’d he say?”
“He looked impressed but insisted it was boring. You know how his pride is. He’d never admit he liked it.”
“True, haha.”
“Anyway, I was just thanking Director Gyeong here. I almost went to his home to thank him in person but decided to come here instead.”
“….”
All Jun-seong did was smile awkwardly in silence.
“When you have some free time, bring Director Gyeong by the house.”
That was actually really great news. Possibly huge news.
“The house?”
“Your dad won’t say it himself because of his pride, but he seemed to like it. So come over and have a meal or something. Bring Director Gyeong, too.”
He just stood there, saying nothing. His expression was somewhere between laughter and tears, probably thinking of all the frustration he’d held back.
Seeing that, his mother stood, walked over, and hugged him.
“You’ve really been through a lot, my son. I’m sorry I couldn’t help you sooner.”
And he finally let out the tears he’d been holding back.
After his mom left with her attendants, we headed to a pub to talk things over.
“It’s not just a casual dinner.”
Jun-seong spoke seriously. I nodded, biting into a chicken drumstick.
“I’m serious—listen up.”
“I’m listening. Go on.”
He sighed.
“They’re basically taking a look at what we’ve got. Think of it as a kind of interview.”
“An interview?”
“Yeah. We need to be totally prepared. If my dad agrees to invest…”
“Then we won’t have to tiptoe around other investors, and we can make the movie we want.”
“Exactly. It’d solve the biggest problem in filmmaking. But did you see this coming?”
“Huh? Why?”
“You’re so calm. It’s like you’re acting like this was bound to happen. You can even eat right now? Dude, this could be a once-in-a-lifetime chance!”
“What’s your problem with my drumstick? I didn’t do anything to it.”
“You really are crazy.”
Honestly, I could see why he found my reaction odd.
The fact that we’d both been invited to the house was more like an offer for a joint “pitch.” They were basically considering us as a package deal.
“Hey, how much did you talk me up at home? Your mom kept going on about how great I am.”
“Just mentioned you a few times.”
He was obviously lying. Someone who’d known him for years could spot it a mile away.
“Oh, really? But why would they invite me to a big interview if you only said a few words?”
“I don’t know, man. Anyway, do you have any plan in mind?”
“Well, originally I thought about turning The Woman in the Secret Room into a feature film. But if we actually land serious funding…”
Then we wouldn’t have to restrict ourselves to a micro-budget thriller.
Of course, we still had to consider what the investor would want.
“You got a better idea?”
“Not sure yet. I’ll have to think about it. What about your business angle?”
“My business?”
Sure, the immediate concern is financing a movie. But looking further ahead, maybe forming our own production company would be a better move.
“A production company?”
“Yeah. If we want outside investment, forming a production company makes sense. It’ll be smoother that way.”
“Hmm…”
Before I went back in time, four major distributors dominated the industry: JC, MEW, Long Box, and Shellon Day.
In a perfect world, I’d like to form a studio that handled production, distribution, and exhibition, the way those big players do. But we’re just getting started, and aiming too high could ruin us.
Right now, the priority is a production company. We can wait to become an investor/distributor after we’ve actually had some success.
Given that major corporations haven’t fully realized the profit potential of film yet in this timeline, there’s an opening. Normally, they start paying attention after a blockbuster like Shiri, but here Shiri doesn’t exist.
If we can succeed with a few films before they catch on, maybe we can join the ranks of those four big distributors. Of course, we’d need hits on the level of Shiri to make that work.
“So I guess we just need to draw up a plan to start a production company. That way we’ll have an easier time attracting investment.”
“Right. Meanwhile, I’ll craft a script that’ll blow your dad away. Let’s go hard starting tomorrow. Deal?”
“Deal.”
Starting the next day, we holed up at home preparing for the interview.
Jun-seong worked on the business proposal, while I tried to figure out what kind of movie would convince his father.
What would be best?
I was writing this script with the goal of winning over an investor—a businessman who wants guaranteed returns. That’s how businesspeople think: Will my money come back or not?
A disaster movie like Haeundae? It drew ten million viewers in my original timeline, but the reviews weren’t great. Plus, we don’t have the CGI resources for that yet.
“Sigh…”
If we look purely for commercial appeal, all that comes to mind is big Hollywood-style stuff, basically Marvel movies. But we can’t even handle CGI for Haeundae, let alone Iron Man with lasers shooting from his palms.
“The best bet might be…”
A historical drama.
That’s usually a safe choice. Parents can bring their kids, thinking it’s educational. Couples on a date might like it if there’s a romance aspect. Older folks generally enjoy historical settings, too.
But it’s the year 2000. Historical dramas haven’t truly gone mainstream yet. Without something like The King and the Clown, a businessman might not see the point in a big historical flick.
So what’s the safest option?
“Dude, you’re gonna dig a hole in the floor pacing like that.”
“It’s not easy trying to guess the investor’s taste.”
“Just focus on money. How about installing a ‘capitalism patch’?”
If it’s strictly about money, we need a cheap production cost with big returns.
I opened the internet and scrolled through this year’s movies.
In my old timeline, there should be Joint Security Area (JSA) by Park Chan-wook, Peppermint Candy by Lee Chang-dong, and Die Bad by Ryoo Seung-wan, but none of those exist here.
Instead, I saw some cheap-looking gangster noir flicks.
“Noir’s trending these days, right?”
“Yeah, it’s doing well. Did you see Night of Blood?”
I did, out of curiosity, but it was so bad I walked out halfway. It couldn’t hold a candle to John Woo’s A Better Tomorrow.
“You remember Kim Su-rin, that senior who got some contribution award at the grad film fest?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“His gangster film is making waves right now. They marketed it as ‘raw male energy’ or something, and it’s doing pretty well. They must’ve landed a decent budget—he got a hot new star, Park Jung-hoon, in it. So I guess investors are interested in noir.”
“Right. If it’s selling tickets, investors want a piece. We just have to make sure no one calls our film a lame copy of Kim Su-rin’s, though.”
He shot me a playful look.
“A copy? I’d do it way better.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself. Big dreams lead to big disappointments. It took Kim Su-rin a while to get where he is, you know.”
“I’ll just write something brilliant.”
I started scribbling down ideas for a noir film, recalling Korean classics like New World, Nameless Gangster, The Big Swindle, and so on, thinking of which commercial elements could work.
And from abroad: The Godfather, Heat, Infernal Affairs, and of course, the Hong Kong movie that turned Chow Yun-fat into a star, A Better Tomorrow.
I thought about what made them so successful.
I needed the kind of commercial hooks that would mesmerize investors.
“There. Got it.”
“Huh?”
When Jun-seong looked at me blankly, I grinned.
“Your dad’s practically in the palm of my hand!”
“What the hell are you talking about, you crazy bastard?”
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