Editing.
The giant of the film industry, Bels Lucas, once said that editing was the stage that completed a film. It involved determining the number of frames per second and assembling thousands of shots into a single scene, requiring one to view and decide on everything objectively.
If actors and directors showcased outstanding performances and direction to engage and persuade the audience, editing had to convey their intentions while maximizing the storytelling experience for the viewers.
No matter how great a masterpiece was, if it became cluttered, the audience would inevitably feel bored and stale. In this sense, Editor Go Sangdeok was holding his head in frustration.
“Sigh.”
He watched every single piece of raw footage from the film, The Priest’s Confession. Before editing, he read the script to understand the film and even watched the footage in reverse to better grasp the director’s intentions. Yet, the more he did, the more it seemed like Go Sangdeok’s hair wouldn’t survive.
“Isn’t the ratio quite low?”
The shooting ratio in filmmaking was typically 10:1, meaning ten takes were shot to create one scene. In Hollywood, they often maintained a 20:1 or 30:1 ratio, while the Korean film industry usually stuck to 10:1. However, even that was often considered excessive.
“What’s going on? This isn’t like Director Shin Seonghyeon.”
Director Shin Seonghyeon, who helmed The Priest’s Confession, was known for his insistence on reshoots, with a ratio reportedly as high as 20:1. He kept filming until he achieved the scene he envisioned. As a result, some actors who had worked with him often referred to him as stubborn, an art fanatic, or the all-nighter director.
Yet, for some reason, the ratio for The Priest’s Confession was around 5:1, largely due to the supporting and minor roles. The main scenes, at most, went through three reshoots.
“There’s nothing to discard.”
He seemed to understand why. The scenes with the main actors, both the initial takes and reshoots, were flawless. The reshoots were mostly because of changes in camera angles rather than dissatisfaction with the actors’ performances.
Just then, Director Shin Seonghyeon entered the editing room.
“Editor Go!”
Director Shin Seonghyeon walked in, arms full of snacks, and was startled to see the dark circles under Editor Go Sangdeok’s eyes.
“Hey, Editor Go, are you sick? Why do you look like that?”
“You, of all people, should know why I look like this. I can’t even begin to figure out how to edit this.”
“What? Is there a problem with the shots?”
“No, it’s too perfect. No matter how hard I try, I can’t find a single scene to cut. But we can’t have a movie that runs for a day and a half. Ugh, do you know how many nights I’ve stayed up?”
“Hmm, if that’s the problem, I can’t help you there. Don’t complain, I’ll buy you some meat to cheer you up, Editor Go.”
“Is this the time for jokes? I’m really going crazy here. This is the first time in my editing career that I’ve been stuck like this.”
Director Shin Seonghyeon gave a faint smile. In Chungmuro, Go Sangdeok was known as a small giant in film editing. His schedule was so packed that he wouldn’t have been able to take on Director Shin Seonghyeon’s project without having a personal connection with him. If someone like him was struggling this much…
“Director Shin, what about the music? Not the mixing, but the music that will guide the overall flow. No ordinary music director can handle this. I got chills just watching the footage.”
“Director Choi Yul is handling it.”
“Choi Yul? The music director who won the Grand Bell Award for his debut work?”
Wow.
Editor Go Sangdeok expressed his admiration. Although he has edited Director Shin Seonghyeon’s works before, he had never seen a project that captured both commercial success and artistic value like this. Director Shin Seonghyeon’s works had always been criticized for leaning too much toward artistic value.
Personally, he found it unfortunate, but he also liked Director Shin Seonghyeon more for it. The Korean film industry needed at least one stubborn artist like him to progress. But now…
“You’ve gathered a complete dream team.”
This project was meticulously prepared. Director Shin Seonghyeon asked cautiously,
“What do you think of this project, Editor Go?”
Editor Go Sangdeok, known as a small giant in film editing, was also exceptional at predicting commercial success. Directors often struggled to view their work objectively, while editors viewed films from the audience’s perspective. Among editors, Go Sangdeok’s insight was so renowned in Chungmuro that he was called a fortune teller.
He looked at the intense gaze of the lead actor dressed in a black cassock on the editing screen and said firmly,
“It will make a mark in adult-rated films.”
***
On top of the jar stand, where snow had piled up neatly, plump little sparrows were leaving their dainty footprints. It was because of the millet scattered there to keep them from starving through the winter. Sitting on the porch, watching the snow blossoms bloom abundantly on the bare branches, I felt a sense of calm.
“Mother didn’t even tell me to come down.”
It would be a lie to say I wasn’t a bit disappointed. With the filming over, I had planned to visit Namhang after a long time, but Mother insisted I rest, so I gave up on the idea. She said that with the Lunar New Year approaching, the market would be even more hectic if I joined in.
“Grandfather is busy too.”
Grandfather was engrossed in preparing for a new project. Since he insisted on laying every foundation with his own hands, starting with location scouting, it was hard to even catch a glimpse of him as he travelled around the provinces.
Because of that…
In this vast mansion, only the sparrows and I were left alone. Even my uncle, who used to show up several times a day, had returned to his main job, living up to his title as a “National Actor.”
Having lost the title of the “Nation’s First Love,” he now aimed to claim the title of the “Nation’s Last Love” or something like that. Anyway, seeing him in his usual state, it was hard to believe he was a legendary actor.
It was then…
“Who’s there?”
A stranger entered the mansion. The figure was so large, like a bear walking in, that the sparrows, which had been pecking at the millet on the jar stand, flew away in a hurry with their plump bodies.
“Bongchun-hyung, what’s up today?”
It was Bongchun-hyung, dressed in a thick black parka. Wearing a street vendor’s hat, he truly resembled a bear.
“The CEO wants to see you for a bit. He said he called, but you didn’t answer?”
“Oh, I must have missed it while I was lost in thought. But why does the CEO want to see me?”
“He said he has something to talk about. Let’s go. By the way, you haven’t had lunch yet, right? These are really delicious.”
He handed me roasted sweet potatoes in a paper bag. They were so perfectly roasted that steam was rising from them even in this cold winter. I took a sweet potato, cut a piece, and scattered it on the jar stand.
The plump sparrows came back down to peck at the sweet potato as if nothing had happened, occasionally glancing at Bongchun-hyung, who looked like a bear, in a cute manner.
“A variety show?”
The moment I entered my agency’s CEO office, I heard something that made me doubt my ears.
“I know you don’t usually appear on variety shows, Yeongguk.”
“Well, and there’s still at least a few months until the movie release, so there’s no reason to appear for promotional purposes yet.”
“Well, do you remember the film Man of August you shot as a child actor?”
Of course, how could I forget? It was the project that made me decide to live as an actor.
“Do you remember Jiyong, the FD who worked with you during that shoot?”
“Jiyong-hyung?”
I still vividly remember the crew from the Man of August shoot, especially Jiyong, who was from Busan and was someone I was quite close to, second only to PD Yu Myeonghan.
That’s because FD Jiyong took such good care of a mere fourteen-year-old child actor, paying attention to even the smallest details like a real older brother would.
“FD Jeong managed to become a junior PD at MBS Drama Department, skipping over the AD position. But he messed up a project and seems to have been transferred to the Variety Department. He’s been assigned a pilot program and begged us to ask you if you could help him out.”
It wasn’t uncommon for someone to be transferred from the Drama Department to the Variety Department. Honestly, the term “demotion” might be offensive to a PD in the Variety Department. However, since it was rare to move from the Variety Department back to the Drama Department, the term wasn’t entirely inaccurate. He must had been in a hurry.
“To be promoted from FD to PD in just three years is incredibly fast, but to be demoted so easily?”
“With such a rapid promotion, there must have been many who saw him as a thorn in their side. The first project he took on as a junior PD failed spectacularly, so they sent him to the Variety Department. If he doesn’t perform well there, the bus to the Drama Department will have left for good. PD Yu Myeonghan was outraged about this transfer, saying it doesn’t make sense to send someone to the Variety Department over one failed project. But the Drama Department head said it was better than sending him to the provinces to shoot early morning documentaries.”
“For PD Jeong, this must be his last chance.”
The MBS Drama Department head tried to understand PD Jeong Jiyong’s situation as much as possible. If he were sent to the provinces, it would be nearly impossible to return to Seoul, especially in the Drama Department.
Although it was not like a centralized system, the Seoul Drama Department oversaw the entire region. However, if he showed decent results in the Variety Department, there’s a chance he could be transferred back to the Drama Department.
“Alright, I understand.”
“Aren’t you curious about what kind of pilot it is?”
“Anyway, CEO, you think we should help out at least once, don’t you? Back then, when you came all the way to Busan to see me, they said PD Jeong helped you a lot. ”
“I knew you’d say that. And there’s one more thing I need to tell you.”
Another one?
“Yeongguk, do you know the playwright, Jeong Yongdae?”
“Are you talking about the playwright Jeong Yongdae who won the Daehan Literature Award?”
“Oh, you know him. These days, young people aren’t interested in plays, so they don’t know. He wants to meet you in person. Since you’ve been busy filming The Priest’s Confession, there have been no ads or interview requests, but as soon as the filming ended, lots of people started looking for you.”
I couldn’t shake off this bewildered feeling. It’s even more surprising than when PD Jeong asked for help with the variety show pilot. How could I not know the playwright Jeong Yongdae? When I entered the university’s theater and film department, the professors talked about him so much that their mouths wore out.
They praised him, saying it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to call him the second Shakespeare of Korea. But according to what the professors said back then…
“They said he had retired from writing.”
What on earth was going on?
***
The playwright Jeong Yongdae couldn’t contain his trembling heart. Hadn’t he been in such a severe slump for the past three years that he couldn’t write a single line? It was as if he had stepped into a quagmire from which he couldn’t escape, unable to pen even a single sentence. On his way to meet the person who had inspired him to write again, his heart was naturally overflowing with emotion.
“Hello, I’m Actor Jang Yeongguk.”
Ah, he’s so handsome. How could someone look so manly? The feeling was entirely different from when he had visited the film set through a university hoobae’s help. In the somber figure dressed as a priest, there was an unspoken sense of reverence and aura. But now, he seemed like a charming college student.
Indeed, an actor must have a significant gap between their public and private personas. It was the actor’s skill that would bridge that gap.
“Yeongguk, do you happen to know me?”
“How could I not? Playwright Jeong Yongdae is one of the most renowned playwrights in Korea. Honestly, I was surprised to hear that you wanted to see me. I heard you only write theater plays.”
“You’re too kind. I gained a bit of fame thanks to winning the Daehan Literature Award. And it’s true that I only write theater plays.”
“Then why me?”
Yeongguk was puzzled. In his past life, he hadn’t been particularly close to theater. Sure, he had once filled in at the Hyesung Theater Company, but that was just a fleeting incident.
“I’m not good at beating around the bush. I’ll get straight to the point. I would like you to appear in my play.”
“Me? As you know, I’ve never properly learned theater acting.”
“That’s not true. I was deeply impressed by your performance at the Hyesung Theater Company. To be honest, I didn’t expect you to agree to meet me like this. As you know, theater isn’t exactly a lucrative business, so I can’t offer you the fee you might want. But what I want is a one-time theater performance.”
“If it’s a one-time performance, are you planning to submit it somewhere?”
“Yeongguk, do you know about the Daehan Theater Festival?”
The Daehan Theater Festival.
How could he not know? It’s the stage that every theater person in Korea dreamt of. It’s also the stage where numerous Korean theater companies simultaneously presented their works. However, the selection process was so complex and demanding that it was difficult to even get nominated with ordinary works and actors.
Yeongguk, too, had once participated in the Daehan Theater Festival as an actor in his previous life but hadn’t even been nominated. At that time, Yeongguk’s theater experience was too limited to be considered a true theater person.
“Are you planning to present your next work at the Daehan Theater Festival?”
“That’s right. To do that, I desperately need your help. In fact, the person who inspired me while writing this piece was none other than you, Yeongguk.”
“I’m grateful and a bit bewildered that you say you were inspired by me. I remember my appearance at the Hyesung Theater Company was quite brief.”
Playwright Jeong Yongdae shook his head. Time was not important when it came to inspiration. For Jeong Yongdae, who had been on the verge of giving up writing due to a prolonged slump, Yeongguk’s theater performance was nothing short of a lifeline from the heavens.
“Could you tell me what the plot of this play is?”
Yeongguk asked curiously. What kind of inspiration had he provided that made the once-retired playwright Jeong Yongdae pick up his pen again?
“Yeongguk.”
Jeong Yongdae licked his dry lips and continued.
“Do you know the greatest Casanova of the Joseon Dynasty?”
