The first part of the shoot was a build-up scene aimed at showing that the police officer (played by Lee Jung-woo) and the gangster (played by Kim Seung-hoon) are close friends. Yet, there was a subtle awkwardness between them.
If you didn’t know how these two acted in movies released in the late 2000s, you wouldn’t notice anything unusual; it was only a slight awkwardness.
“Cut! NG!”
At my shout, both actors stopped and looked at me. The crew also stared, as if wondering why I’d called an NG when they thought the take was fine.
“Both of you, come here for a second!”
I rechecked the monitor. On the surface, there wasn’t anything obviously awkward. They weren’t doing anything special—just exchanging silly jokes and laughing. Still, in small details, I could sense unease.
Their acting looked fine at a glance, but “fine” wasn’t what I was after. I wanted them to fill the frame with authenticity, yet their relationship still felt too much like acting.
“Is there a problem…?”
Kim Seung-hoon asked cautiously, and Lee Jung-woo, standing behind him, also watched me intently as though waiting for an explanation.
Time is everything in film production, so you could see this as a waste. But there really was an issue. If left unchecked, it could grow worse, especially during the film’s highlight scenes.
From the way they rewatched the monitor, neither actor seemed to grasp what the problem was.
“Doesn’t it look okay?”
“You still seem a bit uneasy with each other, right? It’s not what I want. I’d like you two to look like genuine friends on-screen.”
As I tapped the monitor, Lee Jung-woo folded his arms with a blank expression, and Kim Seung-hoon gazed at the screen as though he didn’t understand.
“So what should we do…?”
“Have you two tried swearing at each other yet?”
The question made both men stare at me blankly.
“No…? Do we need to?”
“Do we really have to swear?”
They looked incredulous, but it couldn’t be helped if I wanted them to dive deeper into their roles.
“Here’s a quick assignment: start by letting loose with some insults, right now. We’re racing the clock here, remember?”
Kim Seung-hoon and Lee Jung-woo stepped away from the crew to a spot where they stood facing each other in silence.
“Are we really doing this?”
Lee Jung-woo broke the silence. Kim Seung-hoon smiled.
“If the director says so, we gotta do it.”
Then, with a grin, Kim Seung-hoon launched into it:
“You damn piece of sh**! You think the director’s a joke? How dare you ignore what he says! Who do you think you are?”
Lee Jung-woo scowled slightly.
“You’re really doing it?”
But he still didn’t react much. In his mind, stooping to that level of trash talk was childish.
“Oh, so no response, huh? You f***ing piece of—!”
“Huh?”
Lee Jung-woo let out a half-laugh, but he still didn’t swear back.
“Man, you’re stubborn. The director told us to do this. You don’t want to? You stuck-up little jerk—pretending you’re the only real actor here? I’m an actor too, you a**hole!”
“All right, all right… enough already.”
“He’s the one who told us to do it. You think I’m enjoying this?”
“You seem like you’re enjoying it.”
“That’s just in your head.”
Seeing that Lee Jung-woo still wouldn’t respond, Kim Seung-hoon scratched the back of his head in embarrassment.
“Let’s just say we did it and call it good. It’s not like they’ll check. This isn’t elementary school homework.”
“Right. We’re not kids. They’re not going to—”
Suddenly, there was a rustling sound from behind them.
“We do check. Because we’re crazy.”
Lee Jun-seong popped out from behind a bush where he’d been hiding.
“Huh? Producer?”
“Oh, come on, guys. Trying to weasel out of it…?”
Caught off guard, Kim Seung-hoon looked at Lee Jung-woo, who also seemed flustered and just stared back at Jun-seong.
“Director Gyeong insisted I follow you, rather than sending someone from the crew. Turns out his hunch was right.”
If we had sent a regular crew member, the actors could have convinced them to look the other way. But Lee Jun-seong was basically the first devotee of ‘Kyung Chan-hyunism,’ so there was no persuading him.
“You really think this makes sense, Producer?”
Lee Jung-woo was starting to show his annoyance.
“Sensible or not, let’s do what Director Gyeong says. When you do as he says, it’s like manna from heaven,” Jun-seong replied.
Seeing Lee Jung-woo grumble, Jun-seong grabbed Kim Seung-hoon by the arm and pulled him aside.
“Whoa, whoa—what’s up?”
With a sly smile, Jun-seong leaned in and whispered something so only Kim Seung-hoon could hear.
“…You think that’ll work?”
“Trust me. It’s the same trick Director Gyeong and I used on Lee Jung-woo. He calls it a ‘trigger button.’”
“A… trigger button?”
“Right. Not just random swearing—there’s a specific word you need to use. Anyway, I’ll leave you to it. You’re not kids, so you’ll manage, right?”
As Jun-seong walked away, Lee Jung-woo let out a big sigh.
“Ready for round two?” Kim Seung-hoon asked innocently.
“No! Seriously, how is this supposed to—”
“Shut up, you petty jerk!”
“…What?”
Lee Jung-woo’s face changed instantly.
Seeing his reaction at last, Kim Seung-hoon grinned triumphantly and shouted even louder:
“I said petty! You petty little bastard!”
“P-petty…?!”
Lee Jung-woo took a deep breath. With no manager around to calm him, his anger boiled over.
“You damn f***er… calling me petty? Are you out of your mind? I oughta sew that loud mouth of yours right shut—!”
Kim Seung-hoon burst out laughing at Lee Jung-woo’s vivid insults. Realizing what he was doing, Lee Jung-woo came to his senses, shaking his head and rubbing his forehead.
“Wow, Jung-woo. You’re really good at that. For a moment, I thought you were possessed.”
“Was that the producer’s idea?”
“Yep. They said you’d definitely start swearing if I called you petty, and they were right. Ha!”
“Ugh. They’re all insane.”
“That just shows how serious they are about this movie. Kinda makes me like them more.”
Nodding in reluctant agreement, Lee Jung-woo gave a small grin.
“All right, let’s go show those maniacs we did our homework.”
At that, Kim Seung-hoon let out another burst of laughter, and they returned to the set.
While the actors were off insulting each other, I swapped out a few props on set that I didn’t like. Everything that appears onscreen is my responsibility—from their performances down to random pebbles on the ground.
That responsibility felt a bit suffocating, but not entirely in a bad way.
“We’re back!”
I heard Kim Seung-hoon’s call. It was clear something had changed between him and Lee Jung-woo. Before, they only had a surface-level familiarity, but now they’d glimpsed more hidden sides of each other.
“So, you two ‘opened up’?”
At my question, Kim Seung-hoon looked surprised.
“How’d you know?”
“It’s obvious.”
“Sending the producer to spy on us… how do you expect us to trust you?” Kim Seung-hoon teased.
“This is art made with someone else’s money. It’s less about trust and more about proof. If it were my own money, then sure, I’d rely on faith alone.”
“Fair enough… but the director really should’ve heard Jung-woo’s swearing. Pfft… I’ve never heard anything like it.”
Lee Jung-woo frowned slightly at that.
“There’s nothing to hear.”
Their dynamic was already much better. Swapping insults can be the fastest way for guys to bond—if polite conversation maintains distance, casual cursing can tear it down.
“All right, if you’re both ready, let’s start filming again!”
“Yes!”
At my word, the crew, who had been on a short break, leapt into action.
“Ready!”
BEEP—
“Scene 1, Cut 1, Take 2!”
Clack!
Jun-seong, the cinematographer, the lighting director, and I sat in front of the monitors, watching breathlessly. I hoped the scene would feel more natural and that our time just now hadn’t gone to waste. We focused on their performances.
“Wow… the acting looks so much more natural,” the cinematographer remarked, looking at me. “They’re not doing anything drastically different compared to before, so how does that happen?”
“It’s magic,” I said. “The magic of human connection.”
“Whoa…” Jun-seong nodded at the monitor.
“All they did was swear at each other, and it’s like magic. Unreal.”
In truth, I already knew they could reach this level of performance. Though their acting skills hadn’t yet peaked, they were capable of this.
“Cut! Okay! Great work!”
The crew broke into smiles. Some members hurried over to tell the actors they should quickly check the playback because it was so much better than before.
“Director, is this okay now?”
“It’s so much better than earlier. Take a look and compare.”
Checking the footage, Lee Jung-woo and Kim Seung-hoon both looked surprised at their own more natural performance. Lee Jung-woo tried not to show it, but I’ve studied his expressions long enough to notice.
“Wow… it really does look more natural.”
“I like it.”
“Hey, Jung-woo, do that swearing again—like before—”
“Mm!”
Lee Jung-woo clamped a hand over Kim Seung-hoon’s mouth.
“All right, we’ve got a busy day. You two spent some time ‘bonding,’ so let’s keep rolling,” I said.
“Got it!”
We quickly continued shooting the opening scenes. Unlike a short film, a feature offers plenty of room for character development. This was sure to draw the audience in from the start. When audiences get immersed in the characters—especially ones soon to be played by rising stars in Korea—it’s a winning combination.
“Hey, why are you grinning like some weirdo? Share the joke,” Jun-seong asked, looking at me.
“Come on, weirdo?”
“You looked downright pervy just now.”
“Look who’s talking.”
“I’m a little sexy, right?”
“You idiot. Pervy and sexy aren’t the same thing.”
“So what were you smiling about?” he asked curiously.
“I was wondering when I’ll become a ‘ten-million’ director.”
Jun-seong let out a small laugh.
“Should we bet on which will come first—Korea making the semifinals in the World Cup or you hitting ten million admissions?”
“Uh… I’ll put my money on the semifinals.”
“What’s this, Chan-hyun? Talk about a lack of confidence,” he said, looking at me as though I were pathetic.
But the semifinals are next year… That’s really soon.
Leave a Reply