HPDBC Chapter 200 Kikujiro's Summer Premiere Reception
Chapter 200 Kikujiro's Summer Premiere Reception
Chapter 200 Kikujiro's Summer Premiere Reception
Kitahara Shin closed the script and stood up from the judges' panel.
Nanako Matsushima and Takako Matsu each had their own merits in their solo performances. But this is, after all, a drama with two leads, and today we're not just looking at the quality of their acting, but more importantly, who is a better fit for the role of "Ken-suke Komikado".
Kitahara Shin walked to the center of the open space.
"You can't see the effect just by acting alone. Let me perform a segment with you."
He chose a classic argument scene from the script. Machiko accuses Komekado of using any means necessary for money, and the two clash head-on in the agency, which is the core clash of values in the entire drama.
Kitahara Shin looked at Nanako beside him: "You go first."
Nanako took a deep breath and walked to the opposite side of Kitahara Shin.
She stared into Kitahara Shin's eyes, trying her best to put on a serious face and adopt the righteous and awe-inspiring posture that belongs to a passionate newcomer.
"You have absolutely no bottom line as a lawyer!"
Nanako loudly recited her lines: "Doesn't your conscience hurt at defending such a wicked person who spews lies?"
He had memorized his lines very well.
But the taste was completely wrong.
When she looked at Kitahara Shin's face and uttered those sharp, accusatory words, her tone involuntarily softened. The fierce, head-to-head confrontation originally required by the script was transformed by her into a kind of complaining with a hint of coquetry.
Kitahara Shin stopped what he was doing and waved his hand.
"Relax," Kitahara Shin instructed. "You're dealing with a money-grubbing bastard right now. Don't hold back. Speak more forcefully and look at me more fiercely."
Nanako nodded and closed her eyes to compose herself.
Let's start over.
The result remained the same. When she met Kitahara Shin's gaze again, the imposing aura she had painstakingly built up instantly deflated. She subconsciously resisted saying such vicious and harsh words to Kitahara Shin, and simply couldn't bring herself to do it.
Kitahara Shin noticed something amiss.
"Alright, let's take a break." Kitahara Shin turned his head. "Matsu Takako, you give it a try."
Matsu Takako immediately stepped forward.
She didn't have the heavy psychological burden that Nanako had. While looking at the script just now, she had already grasped the single-mindedness of Mayuzumi Machiko, like a "morning drama heroine".
"We are seeking the truth, not playing legal word games!"
Matsu Takako straightened her back, her voice loud and clear, her eyes meeting Kitahara Shin's without flinching, filled with suppressed anger and stubbornness.
Kitahara Shin immediately got into character, switching to Komikado's tone, leaning forward, and retorting at an extremely fast pace.
"The truth? Don't be ridiculous! Are we gods? We're just mortals who get paid to do things! If you want the truth, go to the police, go to God, don't come to a lawyer!"
Matsu Takako was forced back half a step by his rapid-fire lines, but she immediately gritted her teeth and stood up, sticking her neck out and loudly refuting him.
The two exchanged lines, their dialogue tightly intertwined, instantly maximizing the comedic tension and dramatic conflict on set.
The audition is over.
Kitahara Shin nodded and turned to look at the Fuji TV producer and director next to him.
Several high-ranking TV executives in suits exchanged glances and nodded. No further explanation was needed; they all understood the situation.
Kitahara Shin walked over and discussed it with them in a low voice.
The producer lowered his voice: "Kitahara-san, Matsu Takako's aura is definitely more suitable. That kind of fair, selfless, and somewhat stubborn quality contrasts the most with Komikado, and the comedic effect is the best."
Kitahara Shin agreed.
He turned his head and looked at Nanako, who was standing in the corner.
Nanako realized she had messed up the audition. She was looking at Kitahara Shin with pitiful eyes, like a kitten caught in the rain, her hands nervously twisting together.
Kitahara Shin sighed softly.
That's all for today. You can go back and wait for further notice.
The two bowed and left the audition room.
The auditions continued in the afternoon.
Legal High is essentially an episodic drama. Each episode features a different case and the parties involved, so apart from a few main characters, there aren't many regular cast members who need to audition.
Even so, Kitahara Shin still sifted through all the actor profiles sent by various agencies.
He stopped looking through the resume.
The resume in my hand has a familiar logo printed in the upper right corner—Johnny & Associates. Below are audition applications from several young male idols.
Kitahara Shin found it somewhat amusing.
Previously, Johnny & Associates had done a lot of behind-the-scenes sabotage and maneuvering to protect their artists' ratings and even suppress them. Producers like Oyamada were also very close to Johnny & Associates. The feud between the two was practically an open secret in the industry.
As a result, as soon as news of his new drama was released, Johnny's immediately sent their own people to audition.
Everything seemed as if nothing had happened.
Kitahara Shin placed his resume on the table.
It must be said that some large companies are indeed flexible and adaptable. In the entertainment industry, a place of fame and fortune, face always comes after profit. When Kitahara Shin demonstrated overwhelming viewership dominance and held the best resources, his former rivals simply couldn't be bothered to dwell on old grudges.
There are no permanent enemies, only permanent benefits.
Kitahara Shin picked up the thick "Complete Book of Six Laws" beside him and continued to recite the next article from memory. Then he called out to the assistant at the door.
"Call the next person in."
The audition ended quickly.
After several producers and directors gathered their opinions, the decision was made on the spot.
Kitahara Shin, carrying the list, personally went to the company's lounge. Pushing open the door, he found Matsu Takako and Matsushima Nanako chatting on the sofa, the atmosphere subtly tense.
Kitahara Shin glanced at the two of them and said, "Takako, could you please step out for a moment?"
Matsu Takako blinked, her heart skipping a beat. This practice of keeping someone behind alone, in her opinion, usually meant she'd been rejected and was being sent away first. She bit her lip, glanced at Kitahara Shin, and silently left the lounge, closing the door behind her.
Only two people remained inside.
Nanako immediately composed herself, flashing Kitahara Shin a sweet smile, her tone carrying a habitual fawning quality: "Teacher—"
Kitahara Shin walked over and sat down next to her, then reached out and took her hand in his.
He could clearly feel that Nanako's body was stiff at that moment.
"Alright."
Kitahara Shin said gently, "I know you're a little sad right now, but don't be too upset. There will be plenty of opportunities to work together in the future."
Hearing this most direct word of comfort, Nanako's feigned smile instantly crumbled. She suddenly lost her composure, her voice trembling: "I wanted to perform well—but during our scene rehearsals, I don't know why, I just couldn't bring myself to project that aggressive feeling towards you."
"You probably care about me too much."
Kitahara Shin looked at her and said, "When acting with me, you don't need to think about who I am. Before thinking about who I am, I am first and foremost the character in the script. Only by letting go of that identity can we perform better."
Nanako bit her lip, and tears finally streamed down her face uncontrollably.
Seeing her pitiful state, Kitahara Shin didn't bother with any more lectures. He turned around, reached out and hugged her, gently stroking her hair and patting her back like he was comforting a child.
Nestled in a familiar embrace, Nanako felt a little calmer, and much of the grievance in her heart dissipated.
But regret still lingered in her heart. She already knew the outcome when Kitahara Shin exchanged that glance with her in the audition room. It was truly a pity that she hadn't been able to beat Matsu Takako and miss out on the lead role where she would be acting alongside her teacher.
A few minutes later.
After comforting Nanako, Kitahara Shin pushed open the door and walked out of the lounge.
In the corridor, Matsu Takako was leaning against the wall, holding a cup of coffee to her lips, her head down, exuding a depressed aura.
Kitahara Shin walked over with a smile: "Why do you look so unhappy?"
Matsu Takako glanced at him and sighed, "Losing the audition is bound to make you unhappy. It's not unacceptable, though, considering my experience is indeed limited, and my acting isn't as good as Nanako-nee's—"
She stopped abruptly mid-sentence. Her gaze fell on Kitahara Shin's chest—a large wet patch on his shirt, clearly soaked with tears.
She looked at the water stain with some confusion, just about to ask a question.
Kitahara Shin spoke first, laughing as he said, "You're the one who was chosen to be the female lead."
Matsu Takako froze on the spot. It took her a full few seconds to process the meaning of those words, then she blinked rapidly, looking at Kitahara Shin with disbelief: "Really? Is it really me? How could it be me?"
"Of course, we'll choose whoever acts the best."
Kitahara Shin said truthfully, "Your performance was better than Nanako's, and overall, your temperament is more in line with the silly, single-minded feeling of the heroine of Legal High."
After hearing this, Matsu Takako's expression turned somewhat strange: "Silly? Isn't Nanako-nee more fitting? She usually seems much sillier than me."
"That's hard to say."
Kitahara Shin shrugged. "She only seems silly to certain people. In reality, she's quite intelligent."
Meanwhile, in the lounge just a wall away.
Nanako sat on the sofa, having completely wiped away her tears. She pursed her lips, her eyes flashing with an unyielding spirit.
Although she and Matsu Takako have a very good relationship and call each other "sister" affectionately, she absolutely does not want to give up easily when it comes to work and vying for a position next to the teacher.
She silently told herself: Next time, I must win. And I must win fair and square, so that no one can say a word.
She will definitely defeat Matsu Takako.
end of August.
Kikujiro's Summer has been officially released.
Thanks to Kitahara Shin's tireless promotion on various programs, long queues formed outside the cinema on the day of the premiere.
The vast majority of the audience came because of Shin Kitahara. While Takeshi Kitano's previous film, *Violent Cop*, won a Blue Ribbon Award, the audience for yakuza films is very limited. Many self-proclaimed film industry insiders and some viewers even felt that Kitano was somewhat unworthy of his status. They bought tickets simply to give Kitahara face.
But on the eve of the release, a bombshell announcement from the media shifted everyone's focus.
The main screenwriter of "Kikujiro's Summer" is Kitahara Shin.
Although co-writers such as Shinji Nojima helped polish the dialogue on the credits, the main framework and core concept of the entire story were all written by Shin Kitahara.
In this era, it's quite novel and rare for popular actors to directly transition into producing stories and participating in film production. After all, most actors can easily make a fortune simply by relying on their popularity to act in movies and endorsements, without having to bear the huge risks of producing and writing screenplays.
The industry and media are all watching this movie closely.
If Kitahara Shin's self-written films achieve great success, the market's perception of him will be completely reshaped. He will no longer be just an actor, but a producer capable of creating top-tier content.
In a movie theater in Shinjuku.
Many familiar faces came to the premiere.
The Sato family of three bought a large bucket of popcorn and sat in the center of the screening room.
Looking around, the audience for this film includes not only young fans, but also many middle-aged working professionals and housewives with children. The age range of the audience is very broad.
The box office results for the first day were released quickly.
"Kikujiro's Summer" performed steadily, ranking in the upper-middle range of the day's box office. Considering Takeshi Kitano's previous box office appeal, this start is already quite good.
But this is not enough.
On the same day, "Summer Love Song," produced by Oyamada, was also released nationwide.
Oyamada's strategy was simple and brutal: he poured money into the production, cramming the most popular young idols of the moment into the cast. On the premiere day, the idols' fervent fans flocked to Toho's various theaters to book out entire screenings in an effort to boost sales.
Relying solely on a cast of celebrity faces and a massive marketing campaign, "Summer Love Song" saw its box office soar on its opening day, directly dominating the top spot on the daily box office charts and placing it in the very upper tier.
Looking at the data panel from the first day.
That star-studded idol romance blockbuster still firmly suppresses this road movie directed by a "box office poison".
The reaction after the premiere was surprisingly lukewarm.
There were no excited shouts or heated arguments like when watching a popcorn blockbuster. Most of the audience members who left the theater were quiet with smiles on their faces, and some even had red eyes.
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Even before the plot, what occupied their minds was Joe Hisaishi's incredibly catchy piano score, "Summer." The light and lively melody, like a summer breeze, made almost everyone who left the theater hum along involuntarily.
This completely goes against outside expectations.
Prior to this, both Takeshi Kitano's existing audience and fans who came to support Shin Kitahara assumed that this would be a commercially stimulating film or a hard-boiled movie with cold violence.
No one expected that this would be such a pure and heartwarming road trip story.
This contrast resulted in a somewhat quiet atmosphere during the opening day, and the box office performance was only average. But that's not important. What's truly terrifying about this kind of heartwarming, healing film is its long-lasting, subtle impact.
This was first noticed by those discerning film critics.
Renowned film critic Takahashi was one of the leading figures who previously launched a scathing critique of Takeshi Kitano in newspapers, deeming him "unworthy of his position." He considers himself a staunch orthodox filmmaker, utterly disdainful of the illogical gore found in yakuza films and averse to commercial popcorn movies that rely solely on star power. He firmly believes that films must possess a rigorous three-act structure and depth.
Today, with a critical eye, he watched both "Summer Love Song" and "Kikujiro's Summer" in one go.
After watching the latter, he sat in the dark theater for a long time. This film had no standard structural theory at all; it was simply a story about a scoundrel uncle leading a child aimlessly in search of his mother.
But this touching tenderness made the nearly fifty-year-old man wipe away tears for a long time in his seat.
That evening, Takahashi returned to the magazine's editorial office.
My colleague came over with a notebook: "Takahashi-senpai, did you go see those two new movies? How did you feel about the two movies going head-to-head?"
Was the anime "Summer Love Letter" good?
Takahashi blinked and stood there stunned for several seconds.
Takahashi: "Uh—I've completely forgotten what 'Summer Love Song' is about."
My colleague looked surprised: "Really? What about 'Kikujiro's Summer'? Is it good?"
Takahashi: "That's not a simple matter of 'looking good or bad' —"
He didn't know how to describe the feeling for a moment. Takahashi immediately pulled out a chair, sat down, stuffed a blank sheet of paper into the typewriter, and began to write furiously, typing directly on the keyboard.
He abandoned his usual condescending and critical tone, and used almost every word of praise he could think of in the dictionary, even including flattering phrases like "a flash of genius."
It's not just Takahashi.
That night, many film critics across Japan who shared Takahashi's sentiments sat at their desks.
These usually biased and critical writers were surprisingly united this time. They completely ignored Kitano Takeshi's past labels, set aside their prejudices, and began to write one effusive piece after another praising the film from the bottom of their hearts.
An extremely rare, completely positive and unified storm of public opinion is quietly brewing in the writings of these most discerning individuals, waiting for its first eruption tomorrow.
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