Action 3. Masterful Craftsmanship
A pig's head airlifted from Seoul had several 100,000-won bills stuck into it.
Many directors these days skipped rituals, calling them relics of a bygone era, but plenty still believed that omitting them would bring accidents.
Director Jung Hee-soo was half and half.
He didn't put much stock in it personally, but it felt like he was doing it for the sake of his fellow directors.
The ritual wrapped up in a brisk twenty minutes, and the pig's head, having fulfilled its duty with a few photos, was distributed among the staff.
Normally, managers with some downtime would devour these, but...
"This is a first for me on a set like this."
As the now-familiar staffer said, our drama had no actor managers.
Not that none of the eight actors lacked agencies, but none had dedicated one-on-one managers.
The funny part was that the child actors shooting with B Team in Seoul this afternoon did have managers.
Musing on that, I took in the cabin surroundings.
It was astonishingly identical to the cabin in the script.
The area where I'd intervened most during pre-production wasn't the script or acting.
It was the art direction.
The art director had even asked if I was ditching CE work to become a aesthete.
I'd been so nitpicky that there were tense moments when the director got offended mid-process, but...
"It turned out great, right?"
"Yes. Exactly like I pictured."
"Learn set design sometime. You've got a knack for it."
The director was thoroughly pleased with the final product.
It's not just the DP who's an artist.
The art director is an artist who drags the spaces from the script into the real world.
If the created art satisfies, any conflicts along the way are just minor hiccups.
After that, Art Director Jo Tae-seok dropped the formalities with me and promised to work together on the next project.
I recorded his bold declaration on video while we drank.
"I was a pain, throwing my weight around. Thanks for indulging me."
"Forget it, man. Honestly, it pissed me off sometimes... but this is better. Beats handing it off and then bitching later that it doesn't match your vision."
"You think so?"
"You had a clear plan, didn't you? You have no idea how many execs just spout bullshit."
Well, I'd actually seen it, so of course I had a plan.
The gold-plating art director headed inside to check the interiors, but I kept scanning the surroundings.
Honestly, it was surprising.
The cabin matching was my doing, but the natural environment being spot-on too? What was that about?
Especially this tree.
The tree in front of the cabin where the first victim, Jeong-hoon, hangs himself matched my memory perfectly.
Did that mean what I'd seen was destined to become reality?
I was lost in serious thought, knowing there were no answers, when—
"Do Hyun-woo CE."
Director Jung Hee-soo called me.
"Let's start shooting."
Jung Hee-soo, 43 years old.
He started with indie films, earned acclaim for his direction, and notched commercial successes.
Among rookie directors debuting in major projects in the last decade, he was rated the most promising... but.
His forays into dramas had all bombed spectacularly.
So Gongbeomche was crucial for him too.
With faith in his skills, two flops were forgivable.
But three? People's expressions turned odd.
"He's too focused on direction at the expense of mass appeal, isn't he?"
"Seems like he can't handle long formats..."
Three straight failures turned suspicion into solid evidence.
In that sense, when Tvic's Do Hyun-woo shoved that absurd casting at him, Jung Hee-soo had nearly walked.
He could humbly accept a flop due to direction, but one from bad casting? Unfair.
What changed his mind were the writers.
He genuinely liked Gil Sang-hoon and Ko Young-tae as people.
Like much younger cousins, without exaggeration.
Their first meeting was at a college script contest.
Jung Hee-soo had planned to just judge.
A director of his caliber directing student scripts? Absurd.
But their final presentation blew him away.
They analyzed their script's structure like engineering designs, and it was captivating.
Later, over drinks privately, he was convinced they'd become big writers someday.
Impulsively, he directed their short play, and the result exceeded expectations.
They became casual contacts after that.
Plus, Gil Sang-hoon and Ko Young-tae conceived Gongbeomche while Jung Hee-soo rambled about 40-something friendships over booze.
So it didn't feel like someone else's project to him, and the writers naturally demanded him for Tvic.
Even with Do Hyun-woo's trash casting, quitting wasn't easy.
His mind started shifting bit by bit when he got the revised script.
He was helping a junior's indie shoot, so script review was delayed.
"What the..."
Chills hit the moment he read it.
The time leap gimmick fixed all of Gongbeomche's prior flaws in one stroke.
The problem came next.
"Do Hyun-woo CE is a total genius!"
"He gave all the ideas, you know?"
"There was even stuff about past flashbacks..."
"Do CE said..."
"And here too..."
Gil Sang-hoon and Ko Young-tae had become Do Hyun-woo's devotees.
Jung Hee-soo didn't like it one bit.
How many years had they wasted tied to Tvic?
How many pages redone with each new CE?
It was time for trial-and-error to end and good ideas to emerge.
Do Hyun-woo did it alone? Please.
Company resources and their past scripts as reference.
Yet somehow, gaslit into believing it was all Do Hyun-woo's doing.
In Jung Hee-soo's mind, Do Hyun-woo morphed into an old demon toying with kids.
Plus.
'These punks weren't just calling me a genius?'
He wouldn't admit it, but it felt like betrayal by his nephews.
Of course, those feelings faded a lot during script reading.
"Clear the scripts and let's try it."
Do Hyun-woo's instant immersion pull on the actors was impressive.
Even directing script fixes later felt like he knew his stuff.
Still, lingering bias led to his half-test, half-mischievous question.
"Isn't the acting a bit off?"
First shoots with green actors going stiff? Normal.
Even vets had it sometimes.
So the Gangwon shoot focused on Part 1 script for that reason.
Usually ignoring timeline for cost efficiency, but this call sheet accommodated inexperience.
Jung Hee-soo's question had no easy answer.
Just retakes until they loosened up.
But...
"Hold on. Let me talk to the actors."
Do Hyun-woo whispered a few words, and—
"...Cut! Okay!"
Okay on the first take.
Impeccably clean acting.
More shocking was Do Hyun-woo's follow-up.
"I've watched them the last few months, so I get it... but how'd you spot it, Director? Impressive."
What?
Spot what?
Unable to ask, he cleared his throat.
"Ahem, thanks for the help."
"No problem. Call me anytime you spot more. I know their habits best, after all."
Habits?
What habits?
Do Hyun-woo left, leaving Jung Hee-soo clueless.
Fortunate, perhaps?
The next two long takes nailed okay without issue.
Trouble hit on bust shots.
"Tch..."
Acting solid, but awkward somehow.
Full shots looked fine to the eye, but lens output showed subtle differences.
Nine times out of ten, trust the camera.
'Shoulder line issue?'
In dramas unlike films, shoulder alignment mattered hugely.
Viewers fixated on it after faces in close-ups.
Spotting Do Hyun-woo then, face expectant.
'Maybe...?'
Pretending to ponder, Jung Hee-soo called.
"Do CE."
"Yes. I'll relay your thoughts to the actors."
I hadn't said anything?
But same result.
Do Hyun-woo murmured to them, and a perfect take emerged.
Do Hyun-woo grinned at the okay call.
"You checked their indies, right? No way to sense that on instinct alone."
"Uh, yeah. Sure."
"As expected, amazing."
What?
Teasing me?
But his face was too bright, satisfied.
As Do Hyun-woo left, Jung Hee-soo deployed his ultimate move.
Sound director summoning.
"O Director?"
"Yes."
"Can you pull the audio of Do CE talking to the actors separately? Worried about his directing style. Results good, but process matters."
Too far to hear, but mics caught it.
Sound director was an old collab.
Close enough for jokes.
"Director Jung. Honestly, no clue."
"...About what?"
"What Do CE said."
"Heh, who do you take me for."
Hee-soo, 43.
An age where honesty was tough.