A Genius Director Who Dominates OTT Platforms - Chapter 66
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This chapter was translated by Lunox Team. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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The Genius Director Who Dominates OTT
Episode 66
* * *
There’s something I’ve felt since Accomplice – I think I learned my job wrong.
Originally, a CE dispatched to the set is supposed to represent the OTT’s position and organize and report on the situation at the set…
“Director, wouldn’t it be better if Park Seong-hwa spoke less?”
“Right. It was good when I read it in the script, but coming from the actor’s mouth, it’s more bland than expected.”
“Then I’ll ask for a favor.”
“Yes. I’ll ask the writer to revise similar tone dialogues.”
“? No, not that.”
“Then what?”
“Please convey it to actor Kim Ra-un.”
“…Me?”
“Yes. Quickly.”
Why do I keep ending up watching directing next to the director?
Even receiving constant love calls from Art Director Jo Tae-seok.
The workload intensity even increases as filming progresses.
“Director. Could you ask Jae-yul to change his gaze handling?”
“How?”
“Tell him to lift his head a bit more.”
“…Couldn’t the director handle that much himself?”
“While you’re at it, please include anything that looks lacking in your eyes too.”
“…Yes.”
“Quickly. We don’t have time.”
Wait, did Director Im’s personality change?
He definitely paid a lot of attention to my reactions when preparing for filming.
Even though I said it wasn’t necessary, he reported everything that happened when he went out as C Team director.
“Director. Could you ask actor Kim Ra-un to take a little strength out of his voice? The changed voice is good, but it seems a bit excessive.”
“…Yes.”
After spending half a day like this, I couldn’t stand it anymore and asked Director Im Un-jae why he was acting like this, and the answer was simple.
“When I ask you, Director, it’s accurate and fast, isn’t it?”
“…”
“I heard Director Jung was like this too?”
No. Director Jung wasn’t this bad.
That man had his stubbornness.
“Director Im’s personality seems to have changed a bit.”
“Since we’ve started filming, there’s no worry about director replacement, right?”
“…You’re ambitious. And calculating too.”
“Of course. How do you think I survived in the music video industry? That’s a war zone too.”
Director Im Un-jae, who’s a year older than me, hummed and muttered.
“You should try directing too. You have the talent.”
“What did you say?”
“It was a joke.”
I really think I learned my job wrong.
It’s all because of Ju Yeong-hun, right?
This happened because he didn’t teach me anything.
While bickering with Director Im Un-jae and getting through filming, the atmosphere on set began to quiet down as it approached midnight.
Im Un-jae and I also fell silent.
The reason was simple.
The first two-person scene between Jeon So-ra and Kang Min-sik was approaching.
Everyone was curious.
Would Jeon So-ra’s acting, after years of hiding, remain the same?
Was Kang Min-sik, an unknown theater actor, a Cinderella story? Or the worst casting ruined by Dohyeon-u’s personal connections?
What would their chemistry be like?
Even the actors resting in the van timed their arrival to crowd onto the set.
Today’s filming portion for the two wasn’t small, but there were no decisive scenes that would determine the direction of their character development.
I deliberately arranged the call sheet that way.
I was worried it would be difficult for Min-sik Sunbae to adapt if difficult scenes came from the start.
But since I couldn’t avoid it forever, I scheduled the last shoot as a scene where Han Guk-yeong and Sa Mo-yeon clash.
If today’s scene wasn’t good, I was thinking of shooting it again tomorrow.
Team Owner Han Guk-yeong was a character worth that effort.
For 【Caught at Fingertips】 to succeed, Han Guk-yeong needed to stand firm.
Han Guk-yeong.
CEO of the domestic AI company 【Rolemodel AI】.
Though he grew up in an orphanage, he had tremendous genius, and thanks to that, he was adopted at the late age of 13 by an infertile professor couple.
At 24, his adoptive parents died in a mysterious accident, leaving him an inheritance.
This brought tremendous suspicion and humiliation from his relatives, but Han Guk-yeong truly loved his adoptive parents.
Enough to stake his life on their wishes.
His adoptive parents, who were economics professors, wished to build a virtuous company.
After going through many hardships, the business Han Guk-yeong seriously started was an AI startup.
This is where his life changed.
Someday, all industries and nations would become dependent on foreign AI.
To prevent this, there absolutely had to be a domestically sustainable AI company.
He came to have this sense of mission.
But reality was harsh.
Funds hit rock bottom, investors turned their backs, and domestic conglomerates coveted his technology.
If Rolemodel AI failed, they could swallow Han Guk-yeong’s core technology whole.
At this critical moment, what Han Guk-yeong chose was issue-making.
“Let’s create the biggest issue with the technology we have.”
Namely, E-sports.
He gathered all his money to acquire sponsorship of Seong-hwa Empire, which had been recording last place for several seasons, and planned to introduce AI technology to make them the strongest team.
A delusion only a crazy person would have.
He was a born eccentric.
A fact revealed at the end of the drama is that the best director recommended by Han Guk-yeong’s AI model is Park Seong-hwa.
So Han Guk-yeong stands at the beginning and end of the entire story.
I saw this setting in the script, but writer Gil Sanghun thinks I was inspired by F1.
He said it reminded him of when Red Bull, an energy drink company, first entered F1 and received mockery like “Just a beverage company?”
And for this Han Guk-yeong to stand tall, his relationship with Sa Mo-yeon is essential.
Sa Mo-yeon.
From the same orphanage as Han Guk-yeong.
Initially a co-founder of Rolemodel AI, but later a character who sides with the conglomerates.
She was a villain who did her best to destroy Rolemodel AI.
But behind her actions lay obsession, love, and mixed feelings toward Han Guk-yeong.
Originally Sa Mo-yeon was a salaried CEO of a private equity fund serving as the conglomerates’ hands and feet, but the setting changed when Jeon So-ra took the role.
Considering Jeon So-ra’s glamorous image, they added the setting of her being a conglomerate’s illegitimate child.
The feeling that a conglomerate daughter-in-law had an affair and sent the illegitimate child to an orphanage, then the chairman belatedly called her back for appearances.
In reality, it wasn’t for appearances but to target Han Guk-yeong’s company.
Honestly, it’s not a setting I saw in the original script, and it’s not particularly welcome either.
It feels… excessively typical, doesn’t it?
But I agreed to adopt it because the existing setting alone couldn’t utilize 100% of Jeon So-ra’s image.
When I asked Jeon So-ra, she said she liked this version better too.
Just because she became an illegitimate child didn’t change the content or tone at all.
It didn’t match my taste, but the story did become richer.
It also gave legitimacy to leading a private equity fund at such a young age.
So the chemistry between Han Guk-yeong and Sa Mo-yeon was extremely important.
In terms of drama weight, the story about Han Guk-yeong and Rolemodel AI takes up about a third.
From the middle part, Sa Mo-yeon even intervenes in the E-sports scene to prevent Seong-hwa Empire from winning, stealing team members or sponsoring opposing teams.
So if this storyline settles successfully, it becomes a two-track drama, but if it fails, it becomes a one-track drama with unnecessary content attached.
The scene that could gauge the direction of that outcome…
“Director. We’re ready.”
Was unfolding right now.
* * *
Part 2, Scene 17.
One year ago, daytime, flashback.
Korea Venture Investment head office corridor.
Sa Mo-yeon’s first appearance scene.
Despite successfully finishing his presentation, Han Guk-yeong comes out to the corridor, sensing his failure to secure investment.
He shouts “Let’s go!” as usual, acting nonchalant, when the sound of high heels comes from beyond the corner.
Click-clack.
Han Guk-yeong unconsciously looks in that direction…
Sa Mo-yeon appears in glamorous attire.
Sa Mo-yeon spots Han Guk-yeong, stops briefly, then approaches with an expressionless face.
“Korea? Venture? Investment?”
“What?”
Sa Mo-yeon points to the ‘Korea Venture Investment’ letters carved in the corridor.
“I need to know what went wrong to help you.”
“Help me?”
“If Korea didn’t work out, I’ll help you leave, and if Venture didn’t work out, I can find you an acquirer who’ll run it better.”
“Why are you leaving out Investment?”
Sa Mo-yeon, with cold eyes.
“Because you’re not qualified to receive investment.”
“Me?”
“You say you do business, but you’ve never invested in people, have you? You only trust your own head.”
“Hey, it’s been a while since we met, are you really going to be like this? Didn’t you miss me?”
Sa Mo-yeon’s expression hardens further at Han Guk-yeong’s light attitude.
“I missed you desperately. Seeing you fail.”
“…”
“When was it? I think I first thought that when you were starving while scraping together server fees.”
“Why do you hate me so much? We have a history together.”
“What does time matter?”
Sa Mo-yeon takes a step closer.
“So in there, did they convert the time you devoted to your company into value?”
“Aren’t you doing that right now?”
“What?”
“Since our company is so precious, a chaebol daughter like you is showing interest in someone like me, right?”
“…If you know that, why don’t you sell it?”
“I’ll sell it expensively, very expensively. It’s a company that wasted even your youth, so billions won’t even come close.”
Han Guk-yeong smiles slyly and steps back.
Since your birthday is in a few days, congratulations in advance. It was nice seeing you.”
Han Guk-yeong passes by Sa Mo-yeon.
The moment they pass each other, coldness settles over Han Guk-yeong’s previously smiling face.
And over Sa Mo-yeon’s face spreads a very faint smile, so faint you might think it’s an illusion.
Like a wildflower peeking out from under hard concrete, like a fragrance.
* * *
People go wild for a singer’s high notes, but they say expressing low notes is actually much more difficult.
Acting is the same way.
Audiences applaud explosively emotional acting, but what actors find much more difficult are scenes where emotions are held inside.
If you hold them perfectly, viewers can’t see them, but if you hold them clumsily, it looks awkward.
In that sense, Jeon So-ra’s acting was perfect.
While acting out hatred, you could smell the hidden affection between the lines.
She hates that he can’t invest in people, hates that he does business while starving, but the real reason a chaebol daughter shows interest.
All of that was hidden in the spaces, not in words or actions.
It was truly amazing.
I could never do acting like that even if I died and came back to life.
But equally surprising was Min-sik Sunbae’s acting.
He didn’t accommodate Jeon So-ra, nor was he overshadowed by her.
No matter how much Jeon So-ra clawed at him, he acted like wind flowing through fingers.
Even the fragment-like emotion visible at the end was perfect.
As if he already knew why this scene, which wasn’t particularly remarkable content-wise, would determine the direction of both characters.
Even though it was a scene that couldn’t be seen from Park Seong-hwa’s perspective, I felt certain.
That Han Guk-yeong and Sa Mo-yeon in the script’s world would have worn exactly the same expressions.
But it wasn’t Nana Director who could give the most candid assessment of Min-sik Sunbae’s acting.
It wasn’t his fellow actors either.
It was.
“That actor…”
“He doesn’t have an agency?”
The managers scattered around the set.
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This chapter was translated by Lunox Team. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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