Persona

I wonder how that child grew up.

After The Child drew attention at home and abroad, Lee Young-chang followed it with one successful film after another, until he stood among the ranks of the great masters.

Nearly every actor in Korea dreamed of appearing in a Lee Young-chang film. Even famous foreign actors were no exception.

Though he could cast any of them with a single phone call, he found himself missing the boy who had vanished — Yoon Jae-hee.

If he'd just grown up the way he was, would he have turned out like Do-jun?

After remarrying, Lee Young-chang would watch Yoon Su-heon's two other sons and imagine, roughly, how Jae-hee might have grown.

Even as he made films with the most celebrated actors in the industry, a thread of regret had always lingered in a corner of his heart.

They had only made one film together, The Child, but Yoon Jae-hee had been Lee Young-chang's persona. The empty place left by his vanished persona had never stopped aching.

Lee Young-chang recalled the first time he'd seen Yoon Jay — at Yoon Su-heon's funeral.

He's grown into a fine young man.

The Yoon Jae-hee who had charmed every crew member on set was so different from the Yoon Jay standing before him now that he hardly matched his imagination — and yet Lee Young-chang had recognized him at a single glance.

And now, here he was, sharing drinks with the boy he'd found again at a pojangmacha near BIFF. A sudden wave of feeling washed over him. Getting old did soften the heart, apparently.

"Ever since we met again, you've been expecting a great deal from me, haven't you, Director?"

"My, you caught on, did you?"

"You make it so obvious, how could I not?"

True — there had been a time when he had. But the moment he settled on a title for the scenario he'd been agonizing over, that expectation had fallen away.

"I wanted to ask whether I'm still worth comparing to the child I used to be."

Yoon Jay frowned slightly, as if he couldn't quite read his own heart.

Playing Yoo Tae-hyuk in Intermission had freed him from his obsession with perfection. That was what had made it possible to tell the three people at his agency the truth.

But the most important recognition of all — Lee Young-chang's — still remained.

"Director Shin of Intermission resolved his old conflicts through his work. You wanted that too, didn't you? You always envied Director Shin so much."

Lee Young-chang didn't answer right away, steering instead to another topic.

"Yes. You really do notice everything."

"Well, you make it so obvious. How could I not?"

Then he tossed Yoon Jay's own words back at him. Yoon Jay received the drink Lee Young-chang offered with both hands.

"Actually, I did consider studying directing."

"With your talent, you'd learn it in no time."

"The technical side, maybe. But art depends so much on feeling, doesn't it? That part isn't something you can acquire just by imitating someone."

Yoon Jay refilled Lee Young-chang's empty glass.

He had sensed an extraordinary talent in Yoon Jay, and yet the man showed not a trace of arrogance. Lee Young-chang smiled with quiet pride. He really had grown up well.

"I don't have the time to sit around waiting for that."

"......"

"And I wanted to make one more film with you, Director. I was too young back then."

Lee Young-chang looked steadily into Yoon Jay's eyes and let a gentle smile spread across his face.

"Jay."

For a moment, it sounded to Yoon Jay's ears almost like Jae-hee.

"The audition is already over."

"Did I pass?"

"No — I stopped it. There was no longer any need to keep watching."

Lee Young-chang was looking at the shadow of The Child in Yoon Jay.

Just as in The Child, he had seemed to leap straight off the page as Park Dong-hwa, and the brief glimpse of acting he'd shown in Daldongne after his debut had proven, once again, that his roots ran deeper than the rest.

If this boy could carry that kind of performance from beginning to end, I'd want him in my film no matter what.

But that way of thinking had been wrong. A film is made together.

An actor is not merely someone who performs — they are the one who draws a character out of the film's world, while the director's role is to weave that world tighter and denser, and to make it shine through direction.

Yoon Jay was no longer Yoon Jae-hee.

"You are not a man who needs my approval, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠or anyone else's."

And Lee Young-chang was not in a position to be choosing, either.

He wasn't waiting for Yoon Jay to raise his acting to some standard, nor anything of the sort.

In the film industry, an actor who worked consistently with a single director was called that director's persona — an actor said to be the director's very double.

Lee Young-chang intended to be the opposite: a director who became Yoon Jay's double.

"You are already a remarkable person, just as you are."

Yoon Jay felt his throat tighten for no reason he could name, and took a sip of water.

"There's no proper scenario yet, but I've named the film Father."

The Child would become Father, and rise again. Lee Young-chang caught a glimmer of anticipation in Yoon Jay's eyes.

"Ever since you disappeared like that, there were times I regretted having cast you in The Child."

"No, that was people who were in the wrong — not you, Director."

"You believe that now?"

"Now? Yes. I do."

At Yoon Jay's steady expression, Lee Young-chang smiled warmly.

"Is there a special reason you named it Father?"

"Not as director and actor — I wanted to give you a film like a gift, simply as an old friend. To say thank you for coming back."

Just as his adoptive father Henry Jenkins had raised Yoon Jay on love, Lee Young-chang would give him Father, and through acting, let him resolve the wounds life had dealt him.

A work that would stand as his welcome-home ceremony — for the man walking the actor's road again as Yoon Jay.

"I'm sorry it took me so long."

"......Thank you."

Lee Young-chang patted the shoulder of the bowed head and chuckled warmly. He should have done this long ago.

He couldn't stay late on account of his next schedule. After a brief parting promise to meet again, someone caught Lee Young-chang's arm as he headed back toward his hotel.

"E-Excuse me, Director Lee."

It was a reporter who had been sitting at the far end of the pojangmacha's tables, watching the two of them the whole time.

"I'm Im Yi-hwa, a reporter with Cinemove Magazine. You interviewed with us before, remember?"

"Ah, yes. I remember."

"Might I ask you a few questions?"

"Hmm......"

Lee Young-chang made a face of mild discomfort. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠He knew all too well what reporters were like, but it didn't displease him — and besides, his conversation with Yoon ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Jay had gone so well that his mood was good.

Seeing that the director didn't seem put off, Reporter Im hurried into her question.

"You seemed quite close with actor Yoon Jay just now — are you perhaps keeping him in mind for your next film?"

"Nothing has been decided yet."

"It looked like you were having a very serious conversation, though......"

"Hmm......"

Lee Young-chang deliberated briefly. That boy seemed just about ready to go public anyway — letting a little of it slip early wouldn't hurt.

"Yes. I'm considering that young man for the lead in my next film."

"Oh...... the lead?"

A director of Lee Young-chang's stature could make headlines with a mere cameo. And this wasn't even a supporting role — the lead? Reporter Im's face lit up with interest.

"Because he acts well. You think so too, don't you, Reporter?"

"Oh, absolutely. He hasn't even been debuted that long and he's remarkably good. So, what kind of film is this next project of yours......?"

"Well...... let's just say it will be a film about breaking a mask."

Persona — from the Latin word for the mask worn by actors in the ancient Greek theater.

And Yoon Jay was a man who wore a mask.

Through Father, Lee Young-chang would break that mask — for the sake of a man who was finally learning it was all right to show his true face.

"Mr. Jay! Hello there!"

Having just finished the GV screening and talk for Permafrost at the Busan International Film Festival, Yoon Jay turned around at the commotion rising behind him.

"Just — just one question, that's all!"

"Seung-woo, Jin-woo, hold on a second. If it's really just one question, there's no harm, is there?"

Jung Seung-woo and Han Jin-woo were blocking a man who looked every bit the reporter.

"Thank you! Im Yi-hwa of Cinemove Magazine. Whoa, you really are tall."

"Would it be better if I came down like this?"

Yoon Jay willingly spread both legs to the sides, lowering his eye level.

Caught off guard by the sudden move, Reporter Im had to whip her head to the side. Whoa, my heart's pounding so hard I can barely look at him straight.

"Director Lee Young-chang said he's considering you for the lead in his next film, Mr. Jay."

Han Jin-woo had been glaring, braced for some pointless question, and then his eyes softened on their own.

"Did he say that?"

"Yes. The article's already up — you hadn't seen it?"

The reporter showed Yoon Jay the screen where her own article had been published.

"Anyway — how do you feel about it?"

"......If it's Director Lee's work, it would be an honor. I'll look forward to the day he calls for me again."

Calls for me again? What's that supposed to mean? Must be awkward with Korean, since he grew up abroad, she thought.

Reporter Im brushed it off without a second thought and settled into a nearby café to hammer away at her keyboard, writing follow-up articles.

The meeting of the two men had drawn far more public attention than expected.

And Permafrost wrapped up its run in success.

What's more, Permafrost was also nominated for Best Picture, Best Editing, a Technical Award, Best Art Direction — and its director for Best Director as well.

Naturally, the race shaped up as a head-to-head between Intermission and Permafrost.

If my kids can't win, then you lot don't deserve to win either.

There were those who watched all this with a bitter eye. Lee Seo-won, successful at a young age, had made plenty of enemies, and Yoon Jay too had faced endless interference from every direction since his debut.

Someone seized on the fact that Lee Seo-won had been dining frequently with the festival committee chairman, and let it fly.

Yoon Jay's Best Actor nomination is honestly understandable.

The gist, though, was this: isn't Lee Seo-won going around begging for his actor to be handed the Best Actor award?

Reporter Kang Chang-hoon, who had been digging into the story relentlessly, had already uncovered the whole inside story.

That Yoon Jay fellow won Best New Actor ages ago — it'd be awkward for him to win it twice, wouldn't it?

"Time to make my move, I'd say."

Reporter Kang Chang-hoon grinned as he stared at the article he had written long ago, just waiting for this moment.