HPDBC Chapter 276 The "Sichuan Opera Face Changing" by the Proud Writer and the GTO Casting
Chapter 276 The "Sichuan Opera Face Changing" by the Proud Writer and the GTO Casting
Chapter 276 The "Sichuan Opera Face Changing" by the Proud Writer and the GTO Casting
That afternoon, the producer from Kansai TV, along with the show's core screenwriter, rushed to Kitahara's office.
In the bright and spacious CEO's office, the producer sat on the sofa, his palms sweating with nervousness, holding his teacup with an even more respectful demeanor than if he were meeting the station director. However, the screenwriter sitting next to him, wearing black-rimmed glasses, seemed to have a rather subtle attitude.
Although the screenwriter did not show any obvious hostility, he stood up straight, his chin slightly raised, and his brows revealed the "literary pride" unique to old-fashioned intellectuals.
Within this industry, the screenwriter ecosystem is actually quite polarized. Some seasoned veterans, well-versed in the rules of business, will happily write anything, even garbage, as long as investors provide the funding. But there are also a very few, like the person in front of us, who possess an almost obsessive confidence and protectiveness towards their writing and work.
He had absolute confidence in the script for "GTO," and even privately felt that such a solid, suspenseful, and socially critical script could become a nationwide hit in Japan even without top-tier stars, just by casting any second-tier actor with explosive talent. Therefore, he did not fawn over Kitahara Shin, the capital tycoon and godfather of the film and television industry, as a producer would.
The deeper reason lies in the fact that Kitahara Shin casually crossed over into screenwriting and wrote a script for "Kikujiro's Summer," which immediately shone at the Cannes Film Festival, winning awards that countless screenwriters could only dream of. This made many self-proclaimed highbrow traditional screenwriters in the industry feel somewhat embarrassed.
"President Kitahara," the screenwriter adjusted his black-rimmed glasses, his tone neither humble nor arrogant, even carrying a hint of scrutiny, "we are truly honored to receive your call. But if I may be so bold as to ask, did you decide to take a liking to 'GTO' because your data analysis team told you that this kind of 'unhealthy subject matter' currently has market potential among young audiences, or—did you really read the script yourself and understand what I wanted to express?"
Upon hearing this slightly barbed question, the producer next to him nearly slipped off the sofa in fright. He was sweating profusely, frantically tugging at the screenwriter's sleeve, his mind screaming: "Are you crazy?! This is Kitahara Shin! With just one word from him, our film can secure top-tier marketing and investment in all of Japan! What are you arguing about?!"
In its original historical context, *Great Teacher Onizuka GTO* was a true phenomenon. The 1998 version starring Takashi Sorimachi achieved an average viewership rating of 28.5%, with the finale reaching a staggering 35.7%, redefining the landscape of Japanese school dramas and cementing Sorimachi's legendary status. Its core is incredibly solid; beneath its "hot-blooded comedy" exterior, it incisively dissects the rigidity of the Japanese education system and the hypocrisy of adult society.
Despite the screenwriter's barbed probing, Kitahara Shin was not angry.
He waved his hand, indicating to the sweating producer not to be nervous. Then, he picked up the script from his desk, turned to the few pages with folded corners, and looked at the screenwriter calmly.
"I've never been a believer in cold, hard data analysis. If you only look at data, the theme of delinquent youths would have been saturated in Japanese film and television by now." Kitahara Shin spoke at a measured pace, his voice carrying an extremely comfortable calmness. "What attracted me to this script was the character of Oni-ya Eikichi; he's not some traditional, passionate teacher at all." He's, in fact, a mirror.
The screenwriter paused for a moment, then said, "A mirror?"
"Yes, a mirror that reveals true nature." Kitahara Shin's long, slender fingers tapped lightly on the script cover as he analyzed it clearly. "In current school dramas, teachers are always high and mighty, lecturing. But Onizuka is different. He's violent, lecherous, and even a bit tasteless, but he's more real than any hypocritical adult. He doesn't use those hypocritical school rules to restrain students; instead, he uses the law of the jungle on the streets, using violence to combat violence, to smash down the high walls built in students' hearts by family emotional abuse and school bullying. The most brilliant part of this script isn't how powerful the Oni family is, but that it tears away the hypocritical veil of the adult world."
Kitahara Shin's words were devoid of any obscure professional jargon. He used the simplest and most straightforward language, which even made the producer next to him, who knew nothing about scriptwriting, nod repeatedly and feel enlightened.
More importantly, Kitahara Shin, now a powerful figure at the pinnacle of the entertainment industry with a net worth of hundreds of billions, was actually willing to patiently and meticulously discuss the core of the plot with a screenwriter in such an equal and respectful manner. This respect cannot be faked.
The screenwriter, who had just been putting on airs and displaying an air of "literary pride," now had his eyes completely lit up. The fervor of encountering a true connoisseur instantly shattered all his reserve.
"Yes! Yes! President Kitahara, you're absolutely right!" The screenwriter slapped his thigh, his eyes reddening with excitement. He jumped up from the sofa and rushed to Kitahara Shin's desk. "Especially the scene in the third episode where the ghost family smashes down the wall—what I wanted to express was breaking down that pathetic barrier between teachers and students! Do you think that if the dialogue were slightly—blah blah blah—"
The producer next to him was dumbfounded as he watched the screenwriter, who was aloof and arrogant one second and then transformed into a "fervent fanboy" and started talking non-stop the next.
"Even Sichuan opera face-changing isn't this fast!" the producer thought to himself, but at the same time, he breathed a long sigh of relief, his eyes filled with awe as he looked at Kitahara Shin. That's the personal charisma of a top-tier boss; a few words were enough to subdue a troublesome screenwriter.
After this slightly dramatic little episode, the subsequent negotiations went extremely smoothly.
Not only did Kitahara Shin immediately agree to play the male lead "Oni-ya Eikichi," but he also took control of most of the drama as the largest investor.
With the substantial financial injection from Kitahara Office, the preparation standards for "Great Teacher Onizuka GTO" were instantly elevated to the highest level at the time. Next came the crucial audition and casting process.
In the original "GTA," apart from the male lead Takashi Sorimachi and the female lead Nanako Matsushima (Nanako is already working for Shin Kitahara, so whether she plays the female lead depends entirely on her schedule and interests), the group of problem students in the show was simply a cradle of rising stars where "gods fight."
Yosuke Kuboka plays Yoshito Kikuchi, a genius boy with extremely high intelligence and a gloomy personality; Shun Oguri plays Noboru Yoshikawa, a cowardly but kind boy who is often bullied; and Hiroyuki Ikeuchi plays Kunio Murai, the troublesome gang leader—even Hiroshi Tamaki, Naohito Fujiki, and others have given outstanding performances in it.
One of the core purposes of Kitahara Shin's investment in this drama is to "mentor newcomers" and vigorously cultivate the young artists under his agency.
However, he is also an extremely principled person. He couldn't possibly monopolize all the student roles just to promote his own people, turning the drama into an "internal entertainment" for Kitahara Productions. That would not only ruin the chemistry of the script itself, but also draw criticism from industry peers.
"Spread the word about the auditions. All young actors in Japan who meet the age requirement, regardless of their agency, are welcome to audition," Kitahara Shin instructed Ota's vice president. "Send invitations to promising talents like Oguri Shun, who are currently with other companies or working as independent actors."
Managing Director Ota hesitated for a moment: "President, what about our own company's new recruits—"
"Our company's newcomers have the advantage of directly entering the final round of auditions." Kitahara Shin's tone was calm yet conveyed absolute fairness. "I will try my best to give them the opportunity to stand in the ring, but I will never give them any blatant backdoor treatment. If they lose to outside actors in a clash of acting skills, it means they still need to hone their skills. For this production, the casting, the suitability of acting skills and the role, is the only true pass."
To survive long-term in the entertainment industry, an absolutely fair and just competitive environment is the best crucible to force these newcomers to grow quickly and be reborn from the ashes.
The public auditions for "Great Teacher Onizuka" were held in the main studio of Kitahara's office building.
On the day of the audition, the corridor outside the studio was both dazzling with stars and rife with undercurrents. Almost all the young male actors whose names were known throughout Japan had turned down their other engagements and crowded into this waiting area.
In the corner, Shun Oguri, who was only fourteen years old and looked somewhat immature and thin, was nervously clutching the script in his hands, his palms sweaty. He turned his head and glanced at Yosuke Kuboya, who was sitting next to him with his eyes closed, resting.
Yosuke Kubo had already been signed by Kitahara's agency, but on this occasion, his face showed no signs of the ease one might expect from someone who had "gotten in through connections." Instead, it exuded extreme focus and seriousness. This was because everyone knew that President Kitahara was an absolute "strict father" when it came to casting; if a actor didn't meet his standards, even his own son wouldn't be of any use.
Several young actors huddled together and couldn't help but whisper about the aloof and powerful President Kitahara.
"Honestly, every time I see President Kitahara, I have a strong sense of dislocation," a young actor swallowed and muttered softly. "He seems like one of those veteran actors who've been in the entertainment industry for three or four decades, a living fossil. But if you think about it, his actual debut and rise to fame have only been in the last few years, and he's not even thirty yet—"
Shun Oguri nodded in deep agreement. The sense of dislocation was incredible. They were all roughly the same age, or only half a generation apart, yet while others were fighting tooth and nail for a minor role with a few lines, Shin Kitahara was already sitting on a cloud, a player setting the rules of the game. This kind of overwhelming achievement filled them with profound awe, but also an indescribable envy.
Just then, a small commotion and gasps of surprise suddenly came from the end of the corridor.
Shun Oguri and Yosuke Kubozuka looked up, their pupils immediately contracting.
Yosuke Eguchi, dressed in a casual suit, strode into the waiting area.
At that point in 1996, thanks to national hits like "Tokyo Love Story" and "Under One Roof," Yosuke Eguchi was definitely a top-tier male star in the Japanese film and television industry, and even if his status wasn't quite on par with Shin Kitahara, it wasn't far behind.
"Are you kidding me?! Even Yosuke Eguchi-senpai auditioned?!"
The young people present instantly felt immense pressure. The presence of a monster like Yosuke Eguchi made them truly understand what "a battle of gods" meant. Although Yosuke Eguchi would most likely be auditioning for an adult supporting role in the drama (such as the male lead's friend, Ryuji Danma), the suffocating feeling of competing on the same stage with such monsters still made the newcomers' hearts pound wildly.
Inside the audition room.
Kitahara Shin, dressed in a simple white shirt, sat down with utter ease in the "examiner's" seat at the very center of the long table. The director, producer, and the screenwriter, who had initially been so arrogant, all sat willingly on either side of him. The scene looked perfectly natural, as if he were born to sit in that position that determined the fate of others.
As the actors entered the stage one after another, everyone involuntarily straightened their backs and gave it their all the time the moment they saw Kitahara Shin.
For actors, a profession that relies heavily on luck, Kitahara Shin was like an extremely powerful stimulant.
In recent years, the Japanese film and television industry has seen many "galactic battleship" level productions with huge investments and star-studded casts, but there are countless examples of them suffering a Waterloo due to poor scripts or bad chemistry.
Kitahara Shin was the only exception. He was like an evergreen tree that would never fall, firmly holding onto the absolute throne of viewership ratings. There was even an unspoken consensus in the industry: as long as a drama starred in or directed by Kitahara Shin, the lower limit of its viewership ratings was the upper limit of everyone else's; it was absolutely impossible for it to flop!
For every actor present, this was a golden opportunity to soar to new heights.
The audition process was extremely rushed.
Shun Oguri auditioned for the role of "Noboru Yoshikawa," a character who had long suffered from school bullying and was timid yet kind-hearted. During the scene where he was driven to despair before jumping off the building, he trembled all over and his eyes were red, movingly portraying the youthful despair.
Yosuke Kubozuka auditioned for the role of Yoshito Kikuchi, a highly intelligent but brooding genius troubled youth. He didn't even have many physical movements; he simply put his hands in his pockets and stared at the camera with a cold gaze full of mockery and disillusionment with the hypocrisy of the adult world. That inherent rebelliousness was practically the embodiment of the character.
Yosuke Eguchi was even more adept at auditioning for the role of the male lead's best friend, "Danma Ryuji," perfectly capturing the world-weary and loyal nature of a street tough.
However, no matter how amazing or erratic the actors' performances were, Kitahara Shin, sitting in the main seat, always maintained an elusive "absolute objectivity" in his comments.
"The progression of emotions was smooth, but at the final outburst, your micro-expression control became slightly distorted, and your eyes wandered." Kitahara Shin looked at Oguri Shun in a calm tone.
"The rhythm of the dialogue is very good, which brings out the character's gloom. However, he could try to tone down his body language a bit more." This was his evaluation of Yosuke Kubo.
This kind of objective evaluation, which is neither harsh nor overly praising, really tormented these actors.
After the auditions, all the actors who walked out the door wore worried and dejected expressions. Kitahara Shin's words were so accurate that they couldn't possibly discern from them whether they had performed well or had been subtly sentenced to death.
A nod, a frown, or even the sound of a fingertip lightly tapping the table—all from Kitahara Shin—tugged at the fragile nerves of these actors.
The two-day audition has concluded.
Director Nobukazu Kitahara and the screenwriter held a final, heated discussion in the conference room. Three days later, the final list of accepted candidates, which would determine the fate of countless people, was officially issued from Kitahara's office.
Main cast of "Great Teacher Onizuka" (GTO):
Eikichi Onizuka, Nobu Kitahara as Azusa Fuyutsuki (female lead), Nanako Matsushima as (considering scheduling and national popularity, Nanako naturally took on this classic role).
Yoshito Kikuchi - Yosuke Kubote as Yoshikawa Noboru Shun Oguri as Murai Kunio Hiroyuki Ikeuchi as Ryuuji Danma - Yosuke Eguchi
When the list of actors was passed on to each other, their reactions were all different, yet each reaction perfectly reflected their own personalities.
In a cramped rented room somewhere in Tokyo.
When 14-year-old Shun Oguri received a call from his manager, he jumped straight up from the tatami mat. He covered his mouth tightly, tears instantly streaming down his face. After hanging up, this boy, who usually had to pretend to be precocious, rolled around on the bed with his pillow, letting out suppressed screams of ecstatic joy. He knew that his fate had been completely changed from this moment on!
Yosuke Kubo, in the training room of Kitahara's office, didn't react with the usual elation or despair when he saw his name on the call sheet. He simply let out a long breath, a confident smile spreading across his roguish and arrogant face. He casually folded the call sheet and stuffed it into his pocket, even striking a comical victory pose in front of the mirror while whistling, as if it were all part of his plan.
As for Yosuke Eguchi, who was in his luxury apartment, he laughed heartily as he looked at the confirmation letter coming out of the fax machine.
"To be able to play a supporting role for Kitahara Shin and witness the true dominance of this ever-victorious general on set—this deal is definitely worth it." Yosuke Eguchi picked up his coffee, his eyes revealing the composure and anticipation characteristic of a veteran actor.
With the announcement of this incredibly powerful lineup, media and audiences across Japan have already sensed the "spicy storm" that is about to sweep through the entire summer.