Sketch — First Day of Filming
"Yeon-woo, it's so good to see you again."
"It really is. It's been a few months since I last saw you directors, hasn't it?"
The staff who came over to greet him were few enough to look like a university film club shooting a graduation project — but a closer look at their faces told a different story. They were dazzling.
From the cinematographer to lighting, sound, and even an assistant director with more on-set directing experience than most full directors, this was the absolute cream of Park Chan-hong's crew. The elite of the elite.
They had already found their rhythm together shooting Master Plan.
"All right. We don't have that much time from the airport cooperation agreement. Let's get started."
At Director Park's word, they took their positions near the departure hall. Yeon-woo and the extras fell into their marks under the assistant director's guidance.
They were short-handed enough that even Manager Min-su and stylist Ye-eun were walking around near the departure hall in the roles of a young couple.
"Ready. Cue."
The departure hall doors opened and Yeon-woo walked out. The camera pressed in tight and started rolling — a deliberate choice to keep the sparse extras from looking awkward on screen.
Damn. Not putting this face front and center would be a waste of the shot, honestly.
The cinematographer framed Yeon-woo's upper body large in the lens and walked backward as he came through. Yeon-woo strode forward, pulled off his sunglasses, swept the surroundings with a bored, indifferent gaze, and took out his smartphone.
"Yeah, Mom. I just got in."
A fluent New York accent rolled out without a hitch. The staff, who had already been left speechless every time he performed in Italian on Master Plan, nodded again at the flawless English.
"You know how it is. I never really wanted to set foot in this country again. But it's work, so what can you do."
He let a stretch of silence hang as if enduring a lecture, then continued with the reluctant nod of someone who'd finally given in.
"Yeah, okay. I'll try to keep a good attitude. It's already night over there — get some sleep, Mom."
He hung up, dragged his suitcase, and walked out of frame.
"Okay, cut."
As expected, an okay came down without a single NG. Now it was Jeong Cheol-min's turn to tense up.
The role Jeong Cheol-min had taken was Manager Jeong — a supporting part that briefly introduces Korea to Jay Miller, the character Yeon-woo was playing, and plants the seeds for everything that follows.
"If you're ready, we go straight into the next cut."
They had only two hours of airport cooperation. Every scene had to be in the can before that ran out.
Staff and actors moved as one, finishing the reset and shifting positions without wasted motion.
"We're going soft-focus in the background, so extras — keep changing jackets and keep walking through as much as you can."
The extras nodded at the assistant director's instruction. Min-su and Ye-eun, expressions a little stiff, eyed the pile of differently colored tops already staged just outside the frame.
"Oppa, that spot where the clothes are — that won't get caught on camera, right?"
"They probably calculated it and put them there. Let's walk through, throw a jacket on, and pass again."
Ye-eun nodded at Min-su's words. All they had to do was walk past at a distance behind the actors — and yet every step of their own two legs, legs that had walked a thousand times before, felt awkward and endlessly long.
"Yeon-woo is amazing. How does he make it look that natural?"
Min-su nodded in agreement.
"High cue."
Director Park's cue rang out. Yeon-woo shifted his weight onto one leg, one hand in his pocket, and glanced around. From posture to expression, anyone watching would have felt it — the distinctive air of a Korean-American who'd just landed in the country.
Then Jeong Cheol-min's voice from outside the frame.
"Hey, Mr. Miller?"
Yeon-woo, still scanning the hall, turned toward the voice beyond the frame.
With the director's okay, they reset again and prepared to shoot Jeong Cheol-min properly.
"Cue that last beat again."
Jeong Cheol-min looked around, spotted Yeon-woo, rose slightly onto his toes, and waved a hand over his head.
"Hey, Mr. Miller?"
As expected of a seasoned actor — the air of an office worker, with a thin thread of tension running underneath. In truth, the expression came from Jeong Cheol-min's own anxiety over how his English would sound; the result, though, was the perfect texture of an ordinary company man sent out to meet a foreigner for work.
He hurried a little toward Yeon-woo and exited the frame.
"Okay. That side was good too."
Now the two of them shared a single frame.
"Teacher, I'll stick to the script — no ad-libs."
"Good. I drilled it into my head, so you'd better match me beat for beat."
Yeon-woo nodded and grinned. Standing in the same frame with his mentor, shooting a film — it was a strange, warm feeling.
"Ready. Cue."
On the cue, Yeon-woo extended his hand first.
"Jay Miller. You're from A Music Company, right?"
Jeong Cheol-min mimicked the body language of a Korean sales worker — rubbing his palm once against his suit jacket before taking the handshake with polite care.
"Please just call me Manager Jeong. I'll take you straight to the company."
"Thanks. Then I'll go with Mr. Jeong — I'm not a celebrity. 'Manager' feels weird."
"Ah, understood. This way, please. We have a car ready."
Relative to the frame, Jeong Cheol-min pointed to the right with both hands and guided Yeon-woo along. There had been no stage direction for the gesture. The real airport entrance was dead ahead where the camera sat, but he calculated the two of them into the frame with veteran precision and pointed at a blank wall as if it were the exit, layering the motion with natural ease.
Behind them, the extras, Manager Min-su, and stylist Ye-eun kept busy — trailing the pair at a distance, ducking out of frame, throwing on different jackets, and walking through again.
"Good. Okay."
Time was short, so the moment a cut landed, the staff were already hauling gear and resetting to the next mark.
"All right, let's go again. Cue."
Yeon-woo followed Jeong Cheol-min as he took the lead. The cinematographer tracked their backs.
"Have you been to Korea before?"
"First time."
"I see. It's a warm country. We'll help you settle in comfortably while you're here."
"…Thank you."
Even from behind, Yeon-woo's performance carried the clear sense of someone not entirely willing — a slightly hesitant step, an answer that came a beat late.
The airport scenes wrapped quickly. Even so, shooting Yeon-woo and Jeong Cheol-min in separate coverage across multiple cuts ate a fair amount of setup time.
"All right — we'll move to LN Entertainment headquarters and grab the in-car dialogue and the scenery in one pass."
"Composer, do you happen to like indie music as well?"
At Mr. Jeong's question, Jay glanced toward the driver's seat.
"I listen to everything. No genre limits."
"Oh? Then how about we stop by the company and head to a festival together? There's no album work for a month or two anyway, and they said they wanted to give you time to adjust."
Jay looked at Mr. Jeong — so eager to take care of him — and nodded.
"Sounds good. Let's go. I'm curious about Korean indie music that isn't K-pop."
Jay turned his gaze back out the window. Looking at the land where he had been born — a place that barely existed in his memory now — the strange, complicated feeling showed plainly on his face.
In his eyes: the lively blue of the Hangang River, and an unfamiliar ash-gray bridge choked with traffic. The contrast seemed to speak for the state of his heart.
The parents who had abandoned him, and the Korea that had sent him to America. And the Korea that, from high school on, had recognized his dream of composing and given him the chance to build a career.
While those opposing feelings spun through him, the car kept moving forward and arrived at the company.
"Okay. Cut!"
After that they shot a few simple scenes at the LN Entertainment building and wrapped the day's work.
"God, it still feels like a dream. Me, appearing in a Park Chan-hong film."
"You should celebrate at home tonight, Teacher."
"Should I? Let's grab some beer on the way in."
Jeong Cheol-min would stay overnight at Yeon-woo's place so they could pick up the indie festival scenes the next day. Yeon-woo smiled at him, then turned to Min-su, who was driving up front.
"Min-su hyung, any plans after you clock out today?"
"Huh? Nothing in particular."
Jeong Cheol-min's eyes lit up.
"Oho — then Manager-nim should join us for a drink, right? Just Yeon-woo and me would be a little dull."
"Uh… sure, why not?"
Min-su normally loved a drink, but the manager's life meant driving at all hours, and Yeon-woo rarely drank — so he had always held back. Yeon-woo knew that, and smiled as he nodded.
"Min-su hyung, drink with us tonight and sleep over. Tomorrow's an afternoon shoot, so we can nurse the hangover and head out together."
"No way — so that's when you found the lighter gun at the claw machine place?"
"Yes, hyung-nim. Cold sweat was pouring off me."
Once the alcohol hit, Kim Min-su's story bag opened wide, and he and Jeong Cheol-min were fast friends. Yeon-woo smiled at the two of them talking over each other, then picked up his phone.
He searched for Master Plan. A month into its theatrical run, the film was on the countdown to ten million admissions.
The production company and distributor were clearly determined to hold screens until the film crossed ten million. At this pace, Yeon-woo thought, even a conservative estimate put the breakthrough inside the week.
Hmm. Wonder how the special episodes of Star Beyond the River are doing.
Riding the show's success, two special episodes cut from making-of footage had been scheduled for an extra week. Those had aired over the weekend.
Hmm? What's next?
Yeon-woo tapped the article that caught his eye.
The recently concluded Star Beyond the River is still riding a wave of popularity.
Among its cast, three men in particular captured viewers' hearts.
Jin Yu-han has drawn attention by choosing the musical Deyandor as his next project.
Son Jin-uk, meanwhile, is set to return in the drama Prisoner, with Lee Young-hwan behind the camera.
But Ryu Yeon-woo still has no confirmed next project of note.
Of course, given the remarkable run he has already put together this year across both the big screen and the small…
Yeon-woo scrolled through the article and nodded. They stayed in touch fairly often, but work talk usually stayed off the table — so he was learning about Son Jin-uk and Jin Yu-han's next moves from the press.
Ah, right — Yu-han did mention he was doing a musical last time. I just didn't know it was Deyandor.
The musical Deyandor had been Yeon-woo's favorite since his previous life — and, in this one, the thread that had let Han Hae-un find him.
Looks like they adapted it into a Korean version.
It was a piece he would have loved to try if the chance ever came. But Yeon-woo, a hopeless singer, thought of his own vocal ability and shook his head without hesitation.
Jeong Cheol-min, mid-torrent with Kim Min-su, noticed Yeon-woo quietly studying his phone and looked over.
"Yeon-woo, what are you looking at?"
"Ah — an article on Jin-uk hyung and Yu-han. Both of them have pieces out about their next projects."
"Our film's an indie, so the reporters probably haven't sniffed out a source yet."
"Yeah. For me it's just 'curious about his next move' and nothing else."
Finished, Yeon-woo looked at Kim Min-su.
"Min-su hyung. They helped me out a lot this time, so I'd like to send each of them a coffee truck at least."
"Oh, got it. How about a snack truck instead of coffee? Those have been popular lately."
Yeon-woo's interest sparked at Min-su's suggestion.