Pen and Paper Translations

A few days later, the shoot wrapped completely.

For the ending within the story, the protagonist, Lee Sohee, exposes Kim Sangcheol’s crimes, draft-dodging, drugs, assault, through a newspaper article, and the film closes on a happy ending where the villain Kim Sangcheol serves a prison term.

If this happened in real life, he would have gotten a suspended sentence or been found not guilty, but if you deliver that kind of ending even in a movie, it is not a commercial film.

It is not an exposé picture that reproduces real-life injustice as is, so we tossed the audience a refreshing blast of payoff.

It would have been nice if everything ended when filming did, but editing remained.

It would have been great to hand it off entirely to someone else, but there were not many people I could entrust it to.

We brought in a picture editor, and after a few more weeks of discussion with him, practically living in the edit suite, we finished the cut quickly.

The rhythm of commercial films mostly aims for a fast tempo.

The protagonist’s anguish or pain should last a short time, and what people call catharsis or the rush should be edited to last as long as possible.

“Nggh… let’s stop here for today. By tomorrow we will really be done.”

“Yes, Director.”

The editor looked as if he had been waiting for those words all along, the dark circles under his eyes seeming to vanish in an instant.

“Then I will see you tomorrow.”

I left the edit suite and waited for Junseong in front of Seonghyeon Productions.

The moment he saw me, he laughed and said,

“What are you, a zombie? You look like you are about to die.”

“If you live in an editing room for a few weeks, you will end up like this too.”

“If you have lived there for weeks, you should go home. What do you even have to talk about?”

“I will tell you there. Let’s go to the hof.”

When I said it as I got into his car, he asked,

“Head near your place?”

“Yeah. I am paying.”

“When you pay, get something pricey, man.”

“You cannot buy that place’s vibe with money. Where did your romance go?”

At my words he snorted and nodded.

“The vibe there is killer.”

As soon as we got to the hof, we ordered what we always did.

Start with one bottle of soju, two 500-milliliter draft beers, and one whole fried chicken.

“Ahh, that hits the spot. So what did you want to talk about?”

“What I mentioned before. Let’s do it.”

“You have mentioned more than one thing. Be specific.”

“An entertainment agency. I found a good person.”

At that, he frowned slightly and asked,

“A good person? Who is that?”

“Go Jin… no, Mr. Go Sangwoo.”

“Sangwoo?”

He looked at me with a face that could not decide if this was good or bad.

“If we are going to make money, we should really pull hard. With my eye, your business head, and Mr. Go Sangwoo’s business acumen, we could create enormous synergy. And you and Go Sangwoo are friends, right? That makes it even better, no?”

“Hmm…”

He propped his chin as if weighing it for a moment.

“Then why did you keep it from me? I did not even know you two were friends.”

“Keep what. You never asked, so I just did not say it.”

“So you tried not to pick Kwak Yeonji on purpose…?”

“That is delusions of grandeur, man. Up through the second round of auditions, Lee Seobin was good too, remember?”

He put down his beer, grabbed the soju bottle, and poured soju into his beer glass.

“You too?”

“Call.”

Soju spilled into my beer as well, creating a cocktail of sorts.

Maybe because the soju ratio was pretty high, the beer in the glass looked a touch clearer.

“But if he is so savvy, why did he leave Kwak Yeonji like that?”

“He tried everything, he reached out to you, and to me too. Do you think managers who run that hard, that passionately to develop their actor, are common?”

At my words, something seemed to occur to him and he let out a brief laugh.

“What are you laughing at?”

“I remembered something he said.”

“What did he say?”

“He told us not to take lobbying from the other agency. Is he not totally nuts? As if their own lobbying would not be enough…”

“I like him even more.”

My reaction made him burst out laughing.

“What you are supposed to say here is not that you like him, but that he is crazy.”

He studied me and continued,

“Or do crazies feel a sense of kinship with each other…”

“So, what do you think?”

“Hmm… that line of work hinges on connections too… and I heard Go Sangwoo has only been at it for about a year. Will that be okay?”

“Yeah. There is a reason it has to be Go Sangwoo.”

Even with my certainty, he looked at me skeptically, as if unconvinced.

“And how much do you even know about show business? You blast loud music all day and do not even watch TV.”

“No, I know it well. I care a lot about the entertainment world.”

That within twenty years, colossal stars will come out of Korea.

That because of it, people around the world will take a great interest in a country called Korea, and Westerners, who had been obsessed only with samurai-like Japanese culture, will start paying attention to Korea too.

If I could just move that timetable up a bit… it would be easier for my films to spread across the world.

“First we need to prep the <Jawol> screening. Talk later. It is not like Go Sangwoo is going anywhere.”

At his words, I nodded. <Jawol> was what mattered right now.

After we emptied a few more bottles, we parted.

He called a substitute driver, dropped me at home, and headed back.

When I walked in for the first time in a while, my mother looked at me with pity.

“Oh my, son. In just a few weeks you have aged to a crisp.”

Her worried tone brought a smile to my face.

This is family…

“At this rate you will never marry… and you reek of alcohol!”

Maybe that warmth was my mistake, I hurried into my room to lie down before the nagging barrage could begin.

---

Taesan Film.

CEO Kang Junmo, backed by Taesan Group’s capital, hired Director Kim Surin, who had won Best Picture at the Cheongpung Film Festival with <Our Boss>, to make a movie.

“We can crush those bastards no matter what, right?”

To Kang’s question, Kim Surin answered with an easy smile.

“All of Hyeyum Entertainment’s marquee actors have signed on. Their ticket power cannot be compared with the likes of Kwak Yeonji.”

Hyeyum’s CEO, Kim Mujin, in order to somehow paper over the fact that Lee Seobin lost her spot to Kwak Yeonji, found another project immediately.

That project was none other than a Kim Surin film.

Hyeyum Entertainment and Taesan Group had a common enemy, Director Gyeong Chanhyeon.

“That is true. Those half-baked idiots. These days if you have Lee Seobin you are guaranteed at least a million admissions. To pull a stunt that stupid…”

“Ha ha… exactly, sir.”

After chatting more with Kang Junmo, Kim Surin returned to his office.

Right where it was most visible sat the Cheongpung Film Festival Best Picture trophy.

Every time he looked at that award, Gyeong Chanhyeon’s face came to mind.

The Cheongpung Best Picture had been one of Kim Surin’s dreams.

He achieved that dream, yet the world did not care about his award.

Some people even praised Gyeong’s crazy stunt.

“Ha.”

He first saw Gyeong Chanhyeon at the Korea National University of Arts graduation showcase.

He remembered thinking it was hard to believe a student about to graduate had made a film of that level.

But that was only the beginning for him.

After <Lady in the Locked Room>, the films he made, <Night> and <Desirelessness>, shook Korean cinema.

Thanks to that, in just a few years the number of theaters exploded, and even his own film, <Our Boss>  succeeded woth big, thanks to Gyeong.

But now, Gyeong was a competitor.

If he could not beat him, Taesan Film would discard him, and then he might never again be able to make a film with capital this large.

The taste of conglomerate money.

For Director Kim Surin, who had started in independent film, a completely new horizon had opened.

No wobbling because of money, no worries even if the schedule slipped.

“I have to win somehow.”

An opportunity like this would not come again. By any means necessary, he had to beat Gyeong Chanhyeon’s new film.

---

Before the public screening, Lee Junseong watched <Jawol> with the crew and cast.

It flaunted a completely different charm from the previous works.

He had heard that directors who create masterpieces find it hard to overcome their own limits.

Yet for Gyeong Chanhyeon that difficult thing seemed trivial. Each new film surprised people with a wholly different feel and a different narrative.

Kwak Yeonji’s acting too seemed to have grown even more since the audition, delivering a much better performance.

With this one film, she might ascend to the ranks of Korea’s top actresses.

That is how perfect the character was, how perfect the visual, and how attractively she was, not simply nice.

She created tremendous immersion.

But Gyeong himself let out a long yawn, looking like a man with nothing on his mind, as if he did not even realize what he had done.

“You can yawn watching that?”

“I have seen it too many times. Just in editing, I watched it dozens of times.”

At his response, Junseong could only give a hollow laugh.

The “Ten-million Film” Gyeong had said he would make after receiving the Trend-Setter Award.

Seeing the finished cut, the thought sprouted in Junseong’s heart that it might be possible.

“How is it to you. Is it good?”

“This one is completely different again. Yeonji’s acting, and Junsik-hyung’s too. And the direction? Not a single weak spot. It is fun, and the revenge is satisfyingly crisp.”

Kang Junmo of Taesan Group, who had treated his life as total garbage. In the on-screen villain, Junseong saw Kang’s image.

Maybe that is why, when the villain crumbled, he felt an even greater catharsis.

“Trash like that really all need to be taken out.”

“Reality and movies are the same to you?”

“They are different…”

He sighed  then chuckled.

Suddenly he felt as if this movie were Gyeong Chanhyeon offering him comfort.

“Thanks.”

“For what?”

“Forget it, thanks for helping me make money.”

“What are you even saying? Do not make that tender face out of nowhere.”

Gyeong frowned at the sudden thanks.

“Anyway, put some muscle into the marketing now. Taesan Film is already doing this and that.”

At Gyeong’s words, Junseong propped his chin and thought for a moment.

Taesan Film had deployed every tactic they used for .

Photo cards, pledge events, every tool, setting the bait on fire even before release.

If they fell behind in marketing, they could not pull in casual viewers, only die-hard fans who always sought out Gyeong’s films.

For a hit, the audience you have to grab is the casual crowd.

Thinking they were already trailing there made him sigh.

“Got any good ideas…? They are copying your <Night> marketing tactics verbatim. Especially Lee Seobin photo cards, I hear they are selling for high prices on secondhand sites.”

“Hmm…”

Gyeong looked as though he were mulling it over.

“Stuff like that will make overseas audiences go nuts again…”

“We submitted <Desirelessness> and <Night> too, but we did not get invited…”

Worried, Junseong looked at Gyeong.

“Better not to expect anything. So far, not a single Korean director has ever been invited overseas…”

“What did you say…?”