After the successful first shoot, we moved on to scenes that would make it crystal clear to the audience what kind of character Lee Sohee is.
A character who can do anything for herself. A character without fear.
We shot cuts that carefully considered how the audience would come to read Lee Sohee as a character.
A scene where she pockets under-the-table money from an entertainment agency to drive down an actor/celebrity’s signing bonus, writes malicious articles, and then, once the contract ends, runs a correction notice to announce the article was false.
A scene where she uses blogs and SNS like “Cyworld World” to raise her value and steadily gather her own fans.
Collecting scenes like these, it felt like the audience would be able to grasp what kind of person Lee Sohee is.
After finishing a certain amount of character build-up for Lee Sohee, the next scene set up the spark of conflict with the chaebol role Kim Sangcheol, played by Junsik.
It was a scene explaining why Lee Sohee comes to feel revenge toward the character Kim Sangcheol.
In other words, a scene showing the trigger that gives rise to Lee Sohee’s sense of vengeance against Kim Sangcheol.
The start of the conflict is the start of the story, the place where people naturally get drawn in, so we had to craft it with particular care.
“Whew…”
Before shooting, I reconstructed the scenes from the script I’d written in my head.
I already had a storyboard written, but something felt lacking.
Just yesterday I’d run these scenes through my head hundreds of times, but suddenly something felt awkward.
“…”
No matter how hard I thought, I couldn’t put a finger on what was lacking.
Is it the script? Or is it the direction I have in mind?
“Will a scene like this actually win empathy?”
“Director. We’re all set.”
At the staffer’s words, I figured I should watch first and think, and I readied the cue.
“Ready!”
“Scene 13, Cut 1, Take 1!”
Clack!
“Action!”
Wearing sunglasses, Kwak Yeonji stepped out of an expensive foreign car and spat her gum on the ground.
Then she glared at Kim Sangcheol’s secretary, who was standing outside.
The secretary looked at her as if he’d done nothing wrong and actually snapped back first.
“Hey… how can you park your car like that here!”
“What?”
Yeonji slid her sunglasses down a touch and stared straight at him.
The annoyance filling her large eyes created an atmosphere that could make you flinch.
Maybe that’s why the driver extra was scared, but not wanting to show it out of pride, he shouted,
“What are you staring like that for!”
“Beat it, small fry.”
Ignoring the driver, Yeonji approached Kim Sangcheol’s car and tapped on the window.
“Roll it down.”
At her words, the dark-tinted window slid down, and with a haze of smoke, Park Junsik appeared.
“What?”
Momentarily thrown by the smoke billowing out, Yeonji snapped at him as if nothing had happened.
“If the dog you keep hits a person, the owner takes responsibility, doesn’t he? Not sit there sunk in the seat refusing to come out.”
Junsik looked at her for a moment like, what kind of person is this, then gave a little scoff and said,
“You don’t know who I am? Ah, or do you know who I am and that’s why you’re mouthing off like this?”
At his words, Yeonji frowned.
“What are you even babbling. You idiot. Don’t you start with an apology?”
“Watch your mouth, will you?”
“What?”
“Get lost. Don’t kill my mood.”
“Cut!”
Watching the take, the crew nodded and murmured.
“Wow, the acting’s killer. Both Junsik-ssi and Yeonji-ssi. The tension is tight.”
“Right? Can you even train eyes like that? Is that practice?”
Sure enough, like the staff said, the acting was good.
Their natural psychological sparring.
It gave off the feeling of villain meeting villain.
Even so, the awkwardness in my head didn’t go away.
“Yeonji! Can you come here a sec?”
“Yes!”
Collecting the surrounding staff’s praise, Yeonji came over to me.
“What is it?”
“Something’s missing. But I don’t know what it is.”
Lee Sohee isn’t a righteous, good role, but the audience still needs to empathize as they watch her being wronged.
Only then will they find the revenge Lee Sohee brings about appealing.
But seeing the actual result, it wasn’t a scene you could empathize with.
“From the audience’s point of view, I’m not sure that last scene really lands the empathy.”
“Hmm…”
Hoping I might find a hint from Yeonji who may have researched the character Lee Sohee more than I have, I asked her.
She fixed her eyes on the monitor where she and Junsik were on screen.
“It really does feel too forced for the emotion of revenge to arise… It seemed fine just reading the script, but once I actually see it on screen, it doesn’t really come through.”
Showing that a character comes to feel a certain emotion due to a series of events isn’t difficult.
But if you show it too easily, for some people it can feel childish.
To keep the character’s emotions from becoming childish, most famous clichés are built on a sense of loss.
There’s nothing easier than loss as the engine for revenge.
Just look at that movie where the protagonist is a killer. He kills dozens of gang members because they killed the puppy his late wife left him…
But things like vengeance for one’s parents, or revenge for someone she cherished, don’t fit Lee Sohee, a character far removed from the emotion of affection.
A counterattack in retaliation for an attack on her would be much more natural.
Was the contempt I chose as the engine for revenge just too weak?
My head grew crowded at the thought that I might need to revise the script mid-shoot.
It’s not like a novel with internal monologue; because we were revealing the emotion indirectly through the actor’s performance and the director’s staging, it wasn’t coming through clearly.
How can I lay bare Lee Sohee’s sense of humiliation more starkly…?
“Yeonji. I’m sorry, but—”
“Yes?”
“Can we add one more beat? Junsik-hyung! Hyung, come here too!”
At my words, Junsik hurried over and asked,
“What is it?”
“Yeonji, let’s adjust the camera angle and add a slap. I think we need at least that. Don’t worry, you won’t actually get hit. And hyung, let’s add a line where you order your driver.”
“Hmm… got it for now.”
“Yes. I think that’s good! I feel like it’ll emphasize Sohee’s emotion more.”
After aligning with the actors, I relayed it to the crew as well. We rolled again.
“Ready!”
“Scene 13, Cut 1, Take 2!”
Clack!
“Action!”
The beginning was almost copy-paste of the same performances, and now it was time for the beat with my idea baked in.
“What are you even babbling. You idiot. Don’t you start with an apology?”
“Watch your mouth, will you?”
“What?”
While Yeonji and Junsik were in a power struggle, Junsik addressed the driver in a gentle voice.
“Hey. Driver.”
The driver actor bowed to match Junsik’s eye level.
Junsik stroked the driver’s cheek for a moment, then slapped him hard.
Smack!
“This wench just called me an idiot. You get what I’m saying, you bastard?”
“Yes… sir.”
“Good.”
Junsik gave Yeonji a greasy smile and a little wave, and the car window rose and shut.
“This bitch… trying to take away someone’s rice bowl…”
“What are you talking about. Move. Hey! Get out here! You son of a—”
The driver grabbed Yeonji and shoved her.
With a newly set camera composition, through the camera waiting behind where Yeonji fell, we staged it to look as if the driver slapped Yeonji as she lay there.
“Cut! Okay! That works.”
I checked the cut we’d just shot.
Yeonji’s acting as if she’d been slapped was good.
Using an ambiguous angle, we’d staged a shot that would easily fool people.
“This should do.”
It felt a little empty that the issue raking through my head was solved by a slap.
But since every human knows how degrading and humiliating it is to be slapped—
At least this much would lead anyone watching to “She had every right to be furious.”
“Um… sunbae?”
While I was monitoring, at some point Yeonji had come to stand beside me.
With her brows slightly drawn and her eyes full of resolve, she looked like she had something to say.
“Huh? What is it? That last shot was really solid.”
“Rather than faking it… wouldn’t it be better to shoot it a little more openly from the side? I think sharp-eyed viewers will catch on.”
“No, we don’t need to go that far… Hey, first relax your eyes. Your eyeballs are going to pop out.”
With effort added to her already big eyes, it really did feel like they might pop.
“I’m really okay… I want to be acknowledged for my acting this time, for sure… If you’re staging it this way because of me…”
“Sigh…”
Sure, if we shoot it the way Yeonji says, we’ll get a better shot.
We could make a living, vivid cut. But still…
“Are you sure you can do it? It’s going to hurt a lot…”
“Yes. I can do it. Please let me. Please!”
Begging me to let her get hit…
She must have been under a lot of stress from the newspaper articles about her acting, even if she didn’t show it.
Even with headlines like “Please curse out Kwak Yeonji!” pouring down, the way she endured and tried to turn it into an opportunity to bounce back quietly impressed me.
“I hope you’ll really be okay… I’ll talk to the actor playing the driver first.”
The actor playing the driver which was a bit-part, looked between me and Yeonji with worried eyes when he heard.
“Uh… me? I’ve never actually slapped a woman…”
“Please think of me as a man and hit me!”
“I’ve never truly slapped a man either, though…?”
Yeonji’s passion was tremendous.
She even clenched both fists and pleaded emotionally with the extra.
“Please. Sir. I’m begging you. Just do it without thinking.”
“…”
The man cupped his face in his large hands and sighed.
“Let me practice a bit first… I need to control the force…”
Then, about ten minutes later.
His reddened hand looked like he’d been studying in depth how to hit in a way that would hurt less.
“Let’s go… Let’s try to get it in one.”
“Yes!”
When Yeonji answered with a bright smile, the bit-part actor looked at her like she was crazy.
And we shot them on a diagonal angle.
“This bitch… trying to take away someone’s rice bowl…”
“What are you talking about. Move. Hey! Get out here! You son of a—”
The bit-part actor grabbed Yeonji and shoved her.
Maybe because he knew the next action was the slap, his movements seemed a little more forceful.
This time, diagonal.
We framed Yeonji and the bit-part actor from a diagonal angle, and as she lay there, he slapped her across the cheek.
Smack!
The shot of Yeonji getting slapped was captured starkly.
And her eyes, now full of fury, locked on the driver.
“Cut! Nice! Someone bring an ice pack for Kwak Yeonji’s face! Quick!”
Go Sangwoo handed Yeonji the ice pack he’d prepared, and though her eyes grew moist, she didn’t lose her bright smile.
It looked like she was trying to minimize the bit-part actor’s guilt as much as possible.
“Yeonji-ssi. Your resolve is something else… I didn’t know you were that kind of actor.”
Beside us, Jinsu looked at her with pity and spoke.
“Right…”
Junsik too, asked after her with concern, and Yeonji smiled and nodded that she was fine.
“Are you okay? Did it come out well?”
Pressing the ice pack to her swollen cheek, she asked in a voice full of anticipation.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m good. I think the actor playing the driver hit me technically.”
“Alright… let’s take a look, see how it came out.”
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