You knew it, Jani! xD
[Gyeong Chanhyeon! ! Congratulations.]
“Uh…?”
My name.
My three-syllable name and the film I made were resounding through the Grand Théâtre Lumière.
And then came the thunderous applause.
Even with Kwak Yeonji and Junsik-hyung beside me staring wide-eyed at me, it didn’t feel real.
“Sunbae! Don’t space out! Get up! Hurry and act cool!”
Yeonji, next to me, poked me in the ribs, and only then did I come to my senses a bit, stand up, and head to the stage with the interpreter.
The Un Certain Regard presenter handed me the ribbon-wrapped prize, gave me a thumbs-up, and smiled brightly.
“I really enjoyed your film. Please give us a wonderful acceptance speech.”
“Ah… haha. Yes. Thank you.”
Standing at the mic, I barely held down the heart pounding even harder and put on a relaxed-looking smile.
My head was spinning so badly that I closed my eyes and silently repeated a certain comedian’s line to myself.
“Everyone in front of me is just rice husks! They’re all people who watched my film and were amazed! Don’t be intimidated! Gyeong Chanhyeon!”
After I ran that through my head and opened my eyes, I felt a little calmer.
The interpreter next to me also seemed very nervous, blinking as if waiting for my words.
“Uh… hello. You’re all having a good evening, right?”
When the interpreter rendered my opening, affirmative responses came from the front.
“Still, I doubt anyone’s having as good a night as I am. At least until the Competition awards are announced.”
Maybe they found that funny; some people in front burst out laughing, and the mood grew even more convivial.
“First of all, my thanks to everyone who watched my film without prejudice. I’ll take this award as not only mine, but as an award for the Korean film industry.”
Bringing in the Korean film industry as the banner for my award, it might bring a good wind to our industry.
High-quality films.
If it’s properly proven that our films can also work overseas, other directors will take on the challenge and make good films.
“This alone is a big enough award for me, but next time, I will come back with a film worthy of an invitation to Competition. Until then, I hope you won’t forget my name.”
With that, I gave a deep bow, and the people in front applauded me.
As I stepped down, Yeonji and Junsik-hyung were smiling brightly.
Yeonji looked at me and beamed, then said,
“Tonight, you can finally eat with a clear mind.”
“Ha… now that the nerves are gone, I’m starving.”
The next evening.
To have dinner with Chester, I set out with Junseong in an outfit that looked comfortably smart but not too casual.
“But seriously, why would some critic suddenly ask you out for drinks? When I read that he watched the films on bootleg because the rights didn’t sell, I thought he was out of his mind.”
I had to agree with Junseong to some extent.
It was strange that an American critic I’d never met suddenly acted familiar.
“Chuan Haiyan. Still, doesn’t that name sound kind of cool?”
“It looks like nothing at all.”
“How about, when you make a movie in America later, you go as Chuan Haiyan instead of Gyeong?”
“I’m going to let them know it’s ‘Gyeong.’”
At my words, Junseong laughed like he couldn’t believe me.
“It’s bad enough that whenever I say my family name is Gyeong, people always ask if it’s Jung. ‘Gyeong’ is too much.”
“What a small heart.”
“What would Mr. Kim-Lee-Park1 know about it?”
Trading nonsense with Junseong, we arrived at the restaurant quickly.
A white man in his fifties, legs crossed, caught my eye from afar.
He must have seen us too. He stood up.
“An-nyong haseyo?”
In awkward Korean, he greeted us first, and thanks to that we laughed and greeted him warmly.
“Is that the right pronunciation?”
“For a first try, it was excellent.”
When I said that, Chester laughed loud and clapped me on the shoulder.
“You practiced a lot! Don’t tell me that was your first time. That’d make me a little sad.”
Chester had a knack for breaking the ice.
At first, with formalities, we kept it polite, but after a few glasses of wine, as we chatted, he smiled with a roughened voice as if to say enough was enough.
“Let’s stop with the pointless niceties. I only endured that boring, oh-so-prestigious awards ceremony because I was waiting for tonight.”
“Haha, we’re not big on empty formalities either.”
At Junseong’s words, Chester grinned.
“Good, then. I was worried for nothing. I thought we’d waste like two hours on useless icebreaking and I’d have to rack my brains about how to start the conversation!”
“Haha…”
“Let’s order something first. The food’s really good here. You two look like you’re still at the age where you can really put it away. Any dietary restrictions?”
“No. None.”
“Then I’ll order. Maybe I can pick dishes similar to ones from your country?”
Chester, oddly giddy, even bouncing his shoulders, was about to order when he looked at us and asked,
“You’re not planning to eat for three hours like the French, are you…? I’ve heard Koreans like to do everything quickly. Is that right?”
“Exactly. We’re fine just filling up fast on good food.”
“Heh heh, good.”
After calling the server and finishing the order, Chester widened his eyes as if he’d remembered something and looked at me.
“Oh, right. Director Kyung. Congratulations on your award.”
“Thank you, but… it’s ‘Gyeong,’ not ‘Kyung’.
“Huh? Gyeong?”
“Gyeong. That’s it.”
I corrected the pronunciation a little, and Chester, sounding a bit apologetic, repeated,
“Hmm… Gyeong?”
“Yes. That’s it.”
“Sorry about that. I get annoyed too when people butcher my name like a dog when I’m in another country. You must’ve been annoyed. I apologize for that.”
“Well, ‘annoyed’ might be a bit much…”
Beside me, Junseong clenched his teeth as if holding back laughter.
Perhaps embarrassed, Chester changed the subject to something else.
“So, what’s the relationship between you two? Doesn’t seem like an ordinary director–producer pair. People in those roles aren’t usually this close. Especially when you’re about the same age—you must have fought like crazy making movies.”
“We’re college alumni. As for fighting, we wrapped most of that up back in school.”
“Oh… so you were young men who began a dream together?”
Chester looked back and forth between me and Junseong with interest.
“Well, if you put it that nicely, we can only be grateful.”
“Heh heh, you’re impressive too, to have recognized a director like this.”
“I have a nose for money. Back in school, this guy smelled more like ‘art disease’ than money… but at some point, the smell of money started wafting strong.”
At Junseong’s line, Chester even clapped, laughing big.
My English wasn’t great, but since I could follow their conversation, that was a relief.
“Director Gyeong. Any directors you like? Favorite works, perhaps.”
At Chester’s question, I mentally checked through the few greats still around and said,
“I’m a fan of Stanley Kubrick. I still have a poster of <2001: A Space Odyssey> in my room. <Full Metal Jacket>, <The Shining> , <Eyes Wide Shut> , <A Clockwork Orange> , and so on. I think I’ve watched all his films dozens of times.”
“Oh… Stanley Kubrick, huh… He was a madman and a crank, but one hell of a talent. There really aren’t directors like that these days.”
Chester looked at me for a moment, as if surprised, then smiled softly.
“Come to think of it, your films are closer to Kubrick’s than to most current films. The pacing of the direction matters, and you can find meaning in the direction itself… in that sense, the old films were good. Maybe that’s why I felt intrigued watching your work.”
Sipping wine, Chester looked at me.
“But you don’t look anything like a Kubrick type. Do you know what kind of man he was?”
“Roughly. That he was a perfectionist and an oddball?”
“Not just an oddball. He was like an old man who acted as if he’d bet everything on film. There probably isn’t an actor who speaks fondly of him, eh? Heh heh. I hear Jack Nicholson almost wanted to kill him.”
I could only nod at Chester’s words.
A man crazy about film.
There was nothing else that fit Stanley Kubrick.
He made such a perfect SF film, <2001: A Space Odyssey>, at a time with no CGI that there’s even a conspiracy theory he filmed the Apollo 11 moon landing.
“So do you, by any chance, harbor a grudge against Hollywood like Kubrick did…?”
“I don’t have anything like that.”
“In that case… want to swim in the big pond? I can build the connections…”
Even as he asked, Chester rubbed his palms together and looked at me like prey, clearly excited to hear my answer.
“Hmm…”
I hesitated for a moment.
Hollywood.
It’s good to go in through solid connections, but what happens inside is a big unknown.
The environment for making films in Hollywood is entirely different from Korea.
Right now, the reason I can make films comfortably is because Junseong lets me run free and backs me all the way.
But if I were to make a film in Hollywood right now, I’d have to work with a producer other than Junseong, and then I might be pushed around by a Hollywood producer, unable to wield real power and unable to make the film I want.
Even Director Bong Joon-ho, when he made <Snowpiercer>, had a producer ruthlessly cut out twenty-five minutes.
Even though the edited scenes were ones that could have let audiences savor <Snowpiercer> more deeply, the producer cut them simply for being “slow.”
It was a relief that Tilda Swinton, one of the leads, insisted there had to be a director’s cut and took Director Bong’s side.
If not for her, those cut scenes might have been lost forever.
“…”
Because of those thoughts, I delayed answering, and Chester watched me closely with a meaningful look.
But I still couldn’t answer.
It’s Hollywood, after all.
Hollywood has the power to influence the world’s film industry.
But if I don’t have strong power myself, my influence over my own films will drop.
Unless from the start I build a production company in Hollywood, or become a director whom Hollywood itself recognizes…
“I don’t think it’s time yet.”
“Huh…?”
Taken aback by prey that didn’t bite right away, Chester blinked. And Junseong, translating my words, looked at me, startled.
“If I try to be a director in Hollywood, unless I create my own company, I’ll be little more than a producer’s puppet. What I want isn’t to be a puppet; it’s to make films myself.”
“Heh heh, I knew I had a good eye for people. You pass. Passed.”
“Pardon…?”
At the unexpected reaction, Junseong and I looked at each other, then back at Chester.
- He’s teasing about common Korean surnames. ↩︎
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