Before going into principal photography, with just a few days left until our production press conference, Jun-seong and I were in the office together.
From casting the actors to assembling the crew—and now even marketing—the two of us had done it all.
We had to be extremely frugal with our 1 billion won (10억) investment.
Film production is basically a money pit.
You never know when extra funds will be needed—shoots often run longer than planned.
That’s why producers usually raise money from all sorts of places to ensure good working conditions for the production.
But aside from KMD, there was no other company willing to invest in us.
They didn’t even bother to look at our script.
“Seonghyeon Production? Where’s that?”
“A debut film? And you want us to invest? Get lost!”
“An investment? Are you kidding me? You scammers!”
We got hung up on hundreds of times. Because of that, we had no budget left to hire a marketing team.
That’s why Jun-seong was so busy he hadn’t slept. His eyes were sunken with dark circles.
“You okay? You look like you’re about to keel over.”
“You can sleep when you’re dead… I’ve already contacted all the reporters… and the actors’ agencies too… I hope I didn’t forget anything.”
He ticked off each item in his notebook one by one.
I watched him for a bit and then voiced the thought I’d been considering for a while.
“How about making a pledge at the production press conference?”
“What, like we’re running for office? A pledge?”
He shot me a glare from under those dark circles. He looked like some grim reaper straight out of folklore.
“If we want to hit 2.5 million admissions, we need strong marketing above all else, right?”
“We got a distribution company to secure as many screens as possible, so as long as people have access, we’re good. Marketing, though?”
I let out a sigh and shook my head, and he suddenly looked at me wide-eyed.
“Wait—that look again! You’ve got another idea, haven’t you?”
“What do you mean?”
“That ‘spreading out the mat’ gesture you always do. Before you talked about The Woman in the Secret Room, or how to bring Kim Seung-hoon and Lee Jung-woo together. You always make that face before you say something big. So, what is it this time?”
“At last, you have faith, my disciple.”
“I believe, I believe!” He raised his arms theatrically toward the sky.
“Excellent reaction, Disciple Lee Jun-seong.”
“Just get to the point, okay? What’s your idea?”
“I’m saying we make a public promise. Like, ‘If the movie hits X million admissions, we’ll do something,’ that sort of thing.”
“You think that’ll work?”
“I think so. Plus, we don’t have many other options, seeing as we’re not flush with Hollywood money.”
By now, Hollywood pours a ton of money into marketing—often about 30% of the total production budget—and that number’s only increasing each year.
But we simply can’t afford to spend that much on marketing. Our budget is tight as it is, and we still have so many areas that need funding. So we need a marketing strategy that doesn’t cost much.
One of the best options is making a pledge.
A few years down the line, it becomes popular for actors to show up at press conferences or premieres and announce, “If we reach X number of admissions, we’ll do Y!” It turns into a widely used marketing technique that resonates well with the public.
“Okay, so we promise something. Like what?”
“Hm… something like, ‘If the movie surpasses 2.5 million admissions, the actors will walk around Gangnam wearing the outfits from the film’?”
“…?”
Smack!
He slapped himself across the cheek, then blinked at me in shock.
“What was that for, you psycho? Doesn’t that hurt?”
“I was hoping it was just a dream. It hurts, so why is Gyeong Chan-hyeon spouting nonsense… ughhh!”
“Alas, oh disciple, you’ve lost your faith so quickly?”
“Seriously, what kind of dumb idea is that? And anyway, would that even grab people’s attention? And who’d be interested in such a weird promise?”
“Trust me.”
“But we’d have to get Kim Seung-hoon and Lee Jung-woo’s permission… plus talk to their agencies first.”
“Just trust me!”
“Fine, whatever. I’ll let myself get fooled again…”
Despite his grumbling, he was already writing down my idea.
“Ugh… Fine. We’ll do whatever it takes if we’re aiming for 2.5 million.”
“Exactly. We’ll do anything, man! Seonghyeon Productions has to survive. If this movie’s a hit, investors will be coming to us for a change!”
Hearing that, his eyes lit up.
“And that bastard I talked to on the phone today? I’ll never take his money, no matter how desperate we get… I’d rather sink my own savings than stoop that low.”
“Do you even have enough money?”
He shot me a determined look.
“I’ll take out a private loan if I have to. It’ll be less painful than taking that guy’s money.”
He didn’t sound like he was joking.
“You’re obviously out of your mind. Go get some sleep, you lunatic.”
“I’ve got a mountain of work to do. If you can’t sleep because of your workload, how can I?”
“Let’s hang in there just this once. When this movie succeeds… you know.”
“I know. We’ll hire a bunch of staff next time. I’m not doing this again. In fact, I refuse.”
On the day of the production press conference, we set up in a hanok village near Chungmuro. Jun-seong had called all the reporters.
He went around greeting them personally, repeating, “Please write a good article for us.”
The managers for Lee Jung-woo and Kim Seung-hoon also scrambled around, begging the reporters to take good pictures and write flattering articles about their actors.
“Seung-hoon, Jung-woo! Over here for a second!”
Before the event kicked off, I called them over.
“You heard from your agencies, right?”
“Yes, about the pledge?” Kim Seung-hoon replied.
“Yeah, 2.5 million.”
“You really think we’ll hit 2.5 million…? Wouldn’t people just assume we have no intention of following through?”
“Trust me. We’ll get there.”
We went up onto the stage to hold the press conference. I was a bit startled by the flashing cameras but forced a smile, trying not to show it.
Almost immediately, the cameras focused on Kim Seung-hoon and Lee Jung-woo rather than me, flashing far more intensely.
Lee Jung-woo beamed a bright, cheerful smile—like he’d put on a whole different face—while Kim Seung-hoon faced the cameras with a dead-serious look. Probably his agency’s orders kicking in automatically.
“We’ll begin the press conference for Night (<밤>).”
The MC, whom Jun-seong had hired, started things off. Later on, it might be more relaxed, with a comedian or an announcer hosting, but for now it felt quite formal.
“I’m Park Cheol-woo from Cinema365. This is your directorial debut, as I understand. How did you manage to secure such a large investment?”
“It was thanks to KMD Group recognizing my potential, I suppose.”
Almost all questions aimed at me had the same vibe:
[“New Director. A Large Investment with Uncertain Prospects.”]
They were probably hoping to whip up some controversy, but I calmly answered. “I’m truly grateful to KMD Group for giving me this opportunity to make a good film.”
There was a brief silence, and then, seeming to lose interest in me, they shifted their focus to Lee Jung-woo and Kim Seung-hoon.
“I heard you personally cast these two actors, which was unexpected, since they supposedly don’t get along…”
“All just rumors. There’s no reason to believe every piece of gossip out there, right?” I said with a laugh.
“That’s correct,” Lee Jung-woo added. “You hear a lot of gossip. How much of it is actually true?”
With his beaming smile and Kim Seung-hoon’s stony expression, they were like polar opposites compared to their private selves. But both answered smoothly.
“I’m Kim Jong-jin from Seoul Cinema. Both of you are rising stars—could you each share a brief thought on your goals?”
This was exactly the question we’d been waiting for. I gave Lee Jung-woo a nod, and the two of them stepped up to the mic. Immediately, the flashes erupted like crazy.
“If Night surpasses 2.5 million admissions nationwide, I’ll go on a one-day date with one lucky person!”
At Lee Jung-woo’s statement, the atmosphere among the reporters changed.
“2.5 million?”
“Sounds like he’s just saying he won’t have to do it…”
“That’s an absurdly high number…”
I could hear them muttering. It was only natural—after all, they didn’t know how our film would do.
Once they quieted down a bit, someone called out:
“What about you, Kim Seung-hoon? Will you pledge anything?”
He looked straight into the bursting flashes, a subtle smile on his lips.
“If Night surpasses 2.5 million admissions, I’ll wear my costume from the movie and dance in front of Gangnam Station!”
Given his usually cold, masculine image, that was the last thing anyone expected. The press burst into laughter.
“Is there some significance to 2.5 million? That’s way more than the current biggest hit. Don’t you think it’s unrealistic?”
“The director says it can happen, and we believe in him,” Kim Seung-hoon said calmly.
“But this is Director Gyeong’s first feature, right? Why are you all so sure?”
“Producer Lee Jun-seong says the universe is on Director Gyeong’s side,” Lee Jung-woo said with a playful grin, glancing at me.
I gave a slightly awkward laugh in return.
“He’s just being mischievous. But yes, we’re confident. We’re giving it our all.”
The way Lee Jung-woo vouched for me felt genuinely moving. Having these stars back me so openly—now it was on me to repay that faith by making the best film possible.
A few days after the press conference, we finally started shooting.
Since there weren’t really any pledge-style promotions around yet, our announcement became a hot topic, spreading by word of mouth.
Even Jun-seong was startled by the buzz, eyes wide as if his faith in me had grown even stronger. He clasped his hands together like he was praying to some higher power.
Public interest in the film was already growing, even before we started filming. Now we just had to shoot a movie that would live up to the hype—before that interest vanished.
And then, a few days later…
Filming started in earnest.
I was automatically nervous, knowing there would be way more people on set than we’d had shooting our graduation film.
“Whew… ha… Are you nervous?” asked Jun-seong as we headed to set together.
“Of course. Our whole future’s on the line with this movie.”
I remembered how tense I’d been 23 years ago, before shooting a notorious film.
Back then, there was nothing I could do—I had no power, and I didn’t have Jun-seong by my side. But this time was different. Sure, we’d gotten funding, but everything about this movie—from start to finish—was ours.
“It’s the beginning. Relax.”
“You relax.”
“But you’ve been on sets way more than me, right? Maybe you’re less tense?”
“Doubt it. It’s not like I was there as a director. I was a gofer, basically below a third assistant. Now every single thing that happens on set is our responsibility.”
He gave a little snort and asked, “So is this movie my first child?”
“Son or daughter?”
“You lunatic.”
“Now that I think about it, why is it your kid? It should be my kid.”
“Fine, let’s just say it’s ours. Deal?”
“Deal.”
He folded his arms, looking serious for a moment, then spoke up again, “So how many kids are we having?”
“Baseball team… no, that’s too few. Maybe a full soccer squad… actually, that’s still not enough.”
“You’re gonna spend your life cranking out movies until you drop dead.”
“I wouldn’t mind that.”
We were so nervous we just kept spouting nonsense, snickering as we went along.
When we arrived, everyone was already busy prepping on set.
They greeted us, and since most of them were older than we were, we bowed politely in return.
“We need to maintain some authority now, you know. We can’t have them looking down on us just because we’re young,” muttered Jun-seong. He straightened his back stiffly and gave everyone a stern look.
“You’ve aged enough that you don’t look that young, so don’t worry,” I told him.
“What? You calling me an old man? I mean, I have been going through hell lately, so maybe I am a bit haggard…”
“You always were.”
Before long, everything was ready.
I picked up the megaphone, and the crew and actors all waited for my signal.
“Ready!”
BEEP—
The sound signaled that audio was rolling.
“Scene One, Cut One, Take One!”
Clack!
The third assistant director snapped the slate, then dashed out of frame.
“Action!”
And so began shooting for Gyeong Chan-hyeon’s very first feature film.
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