Acting with Intent (1)
A voice called out from behind Yeon-woo as he spoke.
"It would have been better if we could shoot with our Boramae fighter, but the prototype hasn't even rolled out yet, so we brought a T-50B instead."
Yeon-woo turned to find a military officer wearing major's rank insignia standing there.
"Hello. I'm actor Ryu Yeon-woo."
He offered a polite greeting, and the officer returned it with a crisp salute.
"Major Go Chang-gwon of the 239th Special Flight Squadron."
Yeon-woo nodded at the introduction, glanced at the uniform, and extended his hand for a handshake.
"The Black Eagles. It's an honor."
Major Go Chang-gwon looked surprised as he clasped the offered hand.
"Ah, you know of us?"
The Black Eagles were the Air Force's specialized aerobatic team, dedicated to precision flying. They performed at international air shows and handled major national events like Armed Forces Day exhibitions.
As Yeon-woo gazed at the fighter jet with bright, eager eyes, Major Go added,
"I've been informed that you're cleared to sit in the co-pilot's seat here on set."
"Ah, I see."
Yeon-woo nodded with a faintly disappointed expression. The storyboard included a takeoff sequence, and he had privately hoped they might actually fly. Even after years as an operative, he had never ridden in a fighter jet, so the prospect had stirred real anticipation. But of course they would never risk putting a civilian in the air—not with the possibility of an accident. They would probably composite the background with the chroma key screen stretched behind the aircraft and swap in separate flight footage for the takeoff.
A T-50B is more of an aerobatic trainer than a true fighter, but still... what a shame.
Yeon-woo let the regret go and surveyed the surroundings. In the end, what mattered today was not the jet—it was the acting.
Director Lee Yong-su approached and murmured into his ear.
"Looks like we'll have to start with the fighter scenes today. At best we might get two takes, Yeon-woo."
"Only two?"
Yeon-woo echoed the question, and the director shook his head with a troubled look.
"The client insisted the fighter sequence had to be in there, so the Ministry of National Defense issued a cooperation order to the Air Force—and even then they barely allocated us any time. I don't know the internal politics, of course."
Yeon-woo nodded quietly. Looking at the storyboard, he had assumed they would build a full-scale mock-up or handle it with CG. He had never expected an actual fighter jet to appear.
Hmm. The client is Chairman Seo Tae-gwang.
It seemed there was still some quiet friction between certain generals and the Ihan Group over the recent defense industry corruption scandal.
If it was just a simple boarding shot, they could have filmed it at an air base. Why go through the trouble of hauling the jet here and then slap a time limit on it?
Either way, he had already crafted the performance scenario down to the last detail. If he nailed it in a single take, there would be no problem.
"Today's shoot should be fun."
Under Director Lee Yong-su's crisp direction, the crew finished preparations at speed. Yeon-woo walked onto the set in a flight suit.
Major Go Chang-gwon smiled as he approached the young actor wearing the one-piece Air Force flight suit.
"You're the most dashing pilot I've ever seen. A bit hot and restrictive, isn't it? We brought an actual flight suit, so..."
Yeon-woo grinned, already knowing what the major was fretting about.
"It's the aramid fabric. I'm fine. I can handle it."
"Oh? You're well-informed."
Yeon-woo scratched the back of his head.
"I have a bit of interest in military gear..."
"Is that so? I suspected as much the moment you recognized the Black Eagles."
Aramid fiber possessed ballistic strength and heat resistance that kept it from melting even near five hundred degrees Celsius. Major Go seemed to warm to the young actor even more, deciding he was a fellow military enthusiast. In truth Yeon-woo was no mere enthusiast—he had spent years living in special-operations gear made of the same material—but he let the assumption stand.
Director Lee Yong-su's voice rang out.
"All right, the complicated setups can wait. Let's start with the modern era and work our way back."
There were quite a few scenes to shoot today. Filming in chronological order would have meant beginning with Goryeo-era Seo Hui and ending with the modern Air Force pilot. But the Ministry had only managed to free up the aircraft for a tight window, so the fighter sequence had to come first. Beyond that, the further back in history they went, the more facial hair and complex makeup would be required. Shooting in reverse order would be easier on both Yeon-woo and the makeup team.
But that means I'll have to reverse my emotional calibration.
He had rehearsed countless times. He strode confidently in front of the camera.
"Major, please board the aircraft first. We'll run the extras' blocking once."
Major Go nodded and climbed into the cockpit.
"Our permitted window is extremely tight, so after rehearsal we'll try to get it in one take."
"Yes, sir!"
"Let's go. High cue."
They began the blocking rehearsal.
Yeon-woo walked forward in the flight suit, helmet in hand. Extras clustered around him, checking the suit and poring over the operations plan, explaining last-minute details right up to the ladder. He nodded, then climbed the ladder attached to the cockpit.
Director Lee Yong-su watched and gave a satisfied nod.
"Okay. We'll shoot the real take on that same path. Get the cameras ready."
At the director's signal to begin principal photography, Yeon-woo climbed back down the ladder he had just ascended.
Then the real take began.
The camera operator rode the dolly track, following Yeon-woo as he walked the rehearsed path. Yeon-woo moved with his mouth set in a firm line, face almost devoid of large emotional shifts. Extras swarmed him, checked various points, and peeled away again while he kept walking, gaze fixed ahead, expression still unchanged.
"Hmm..."
Nothing was exactly wrong, yet Director Lee Yong-su looked faintly unsatisfied. Reading his face, the assistant director whispered beside him.
"...A little flat, isn't it, Director?"
Lee Yong-su stroked his chin and looked at the AD.
"You feel it too?"
"Yes."
While the director fretted, Yeon-woo finished the fairly complex blocking and settled into the co-pilot's seat. The canopy closed over him; the entire sequence had been captured in a single continuous take.
"Cut. It's not that anything's wrong, exactly..."
Director Lee kept tilting his head. Actor Ryu Yeon-woo's recent work had all been strong, and the live set simply felt different from the storyboard the agency had sent. When he compared it to the resolute, brilliant performance of Seo Hui in Star Beyond the River—a reference he himself had studied during prep—this felt too bland.
He spoke to Yeon-woo as the actor climbed down and approached.
"Actor Ryu."
"Yes, Director."
"Everything's fine, but it feels a little underpowered. I'd like to go again with a more cinematic intensity."
Yeon-woo nodded.
Looks like his reading of the commercial storyboard differs from mine.
He had more or less expected this reaction from Director Lee.
"Understood. Would it be possible to check the take we just shot?"
"Of course. Jin-seong, put it up on the monitor."
"Yes, Director."
A crew member worked the controls, and the field monitor displayed the footage Yeon-woo had just performed. He watched, nodding.
"Confirmed. Thank you."
He headed back to the starting mark for the next take.
The first take came out exactly the way I intended. Still, direction belongs to the director, so I'll give him the performance he wants.
He had deliberately kept the emotion restrained in the first take, so his own goal was already achieved. Which version made the final cut would be the director's call.
The cameras rolled again.
This time, following the director's request, Yeon-woo walked with a more solemn, steely expression. His eyes burned as if he meant to annihilate every enemy before him; his purposeful stride radiated passion and resolve.
Watching through the field monitor, Director Lee Yong-su finally looked satisfied.
"Yes—that's it. Actor Ryu just needed to warm up. We can call this the OK take."
Clearly the director had interpreted the storyboard differently from Yeon-woo; the second performance earned applause.
"Okay! Cut! That was excellent, Yeon-woo."
"Was it?"
Yeon-woo climbed down the ladder wearing a faint, unreadable smile at the director's OK.
Meanwhile Director Lee approached Major Go Chang-gwon and offered a handshake.
"Thank you so much for your cooperation today, Major."
"Not at all. I simply carried out my orders. I'm glad we could be of help."
The crew moved quickly, opening the rear doors of the studio. Yeon-woo hadn't noticed on the way in, but looking now he realized the space had been converted from an aircraft hangar.
Kim Min-su, who had been waiting in the back, approached with a bottle of water.
"Wow, Actor. How's that plane getting home? There's no runway—it can't fly out of here. Are they going to load it onto something?"
"Ah, Wonju Air Base is right next door. Just a short drive out the back road."
Major Go answered, having overheard. Kim Min-su smiled at a sudden absurd thought.
"If they got into a traffic accident on the way, the insurance company would lose their minds. Imagine filing a claim that says you collided with an airplane."
"...They'd probably ask if you meant a mobility scooter."
Yeon-woo answered the manager's nonsense with complete seriousness. After years of field work he had seen every bizarre incident imaginable; he never dismissed even the wildest hypothetical as pure nonsense.
Listening to the ridiculous exchange between actor and manager, Major Go scratched his head and clarified.
"...Ahem. Military vehicles escort the aircraft front and rear, so an accident is essentially impossible."
"Ah, that makes sense."
Kim Min-su nodded, curiosity satisfied.
Through the fully opened hangar doors, Major Go and the other military personnel departed. The set still had a mountain of remaining schedule.
Director Lee Yong-su's voice rose again.
"All right, let's get ready for the modern-to-contemporary sequences."
Filming accelerated. The modern pilot scene was finished, but five more plot segments remained—from Seo Hui all the way to the boy soldier—so everyone braced for an all-nighter.
In the center of the now military-free set, staff members whispered among themselves as they watched Ryu Yeon-woo finish a scene as an independence fighter.
"...Whoa. Did you see that performance just now?"
"For a second I thought we were actually standing on the Manchurian plain."
An lighting crew member rubbed the goosebumps on his arms while staring at the actor pouring out such intense work, then spoke as Yeon-woo headed into the makeup room for the next scene.
"Think we might actually wrap before dinner tonight...?"
The hopeful remark drew a head-shake from another crew member adjusting a light.
"No chance. We've got six sets today."
"But he's already chewed through two of them. We haven't even had lunch yet."
"Chewed through? What is this, a bulgogi burger combo? Look at the remaining sets. Unless Ryu Yeon-woo one-takes every single scene, just the setups will eat hours."
"Hmm, maybe."
Whether or not he sensed the crew's longing for an early wrap, Yeon-woo entered the makeup room and began transforming into a boy soldier of the Korean War.