Tokyo: My Best Actor Gear List

Chapter 30 The Director's Bottom Line

The humidity during the rainy season cannot be completely suppressed even by the air conditioning in a photography studio.

Producer Ishida stood outside the fire door of Studio 3, the script in his hand slightly soggy from sweat.

He unbuttoned his shirt collar, but still felt breathless.

Ten minutes ago, a phone call from "Takada Kogyo" disrupted all his plans.

Without any pleasantries, the other party dropped the bombshell: "Ishida-san, if we still see that supporting actor named Kitahara acting so arrogantly in the final cut, we will reconsider the additional investment we promised for the next film."

Even without mentioning names, Ishida knew who was behind it all.

Kanai and the agency behind him.

In this industry, cutting off someone's livelihood is more ruthless than killing their parents. Ishida is a businessman; he has to make a choice.

A strong "Cut!" came from inside the shed.

Ishida wiped his face, pushed open the door, and went inside.

……

Kinji Fukasaku was sitting behind the monitor, a half-smoked cigarette dangling from his mouth.

The previous take went very smoothly. Kitahara Shin's close-up profile at the edge of the shot was extremely powerful, and the cold, hard texture made Fukasaku very satisfied.

"Director, is now a convenient time?"

Ishida leaned over and handed over a bottle of oolong tea, a professional, ingratiating smile on his face.

Fukasaku Kinji glanced at him sideways, refusing to take the tea: "Spit it out."

"It's about adjusting the notice board..."

Ishida lowered his voice and didn't directly mention cutting scenes. Instead, he started by addressing the production aspect: "Director, there have been too many rainy days lately, and the location shooting is three days behind schedule. The finance department at 'Takada Kogyo' is pressing for the budget, saying that film consumption has exceeded the limit."

He paused, observing the director's expression, and seeing that Fukasaku remained silent, he tentatively revealed his true purpose:

"I was thinking, in order to finish filming before the wrap-up date, could we... optimize that final showdown scene at the dock?"

"Optimization?" Fukasaku Kinji's hand holding the cigarette froze in mid-air as he exhaled a smoke ring.

"Yes, the original melee combat design was too time-consuming; just the martial arts routines alone would take two days."

Ishida pointed to the latter half of the script, his tone so sincere it seemed he was thinking of the production team, "If we change it to Matsuda-san shooting Sawada through the shipping container, it's cheaper and the pacing is more intense. Today's audiences like the satisfying feeling of solving a problem with a 'bang,' and dragging things out for too long just feels tedious. What do you think?"

This is a very vicious trick.

If this is changed, the character of Sawada will be completely ruined. No matter how well the groundwork is laid, in the end he will just be a target under the protagonist's gun.

Kinji Fukasaku slowly turned his head.

Those cloudy eyes stared at Ishida, not immediately roaring, but revealing a shrewdness that saw through everything.

"Ishida."

The veteran director flicked his cigarette ash, his voice chillingly calm, "Do you think I'm senile and can't distinguish between 'optimization' and 'castration'?"

Ishida's heart tightened, and his smile faltered: "Director, I really did this for the budget..."

"Don't use the budget as a fig leaf."

Kinji Fukasaku coldly interrupted him, "Was it pressure from Matsuda's agency? Or did that nouveau riche Takada think that a supporting actor was acting too well and stealing the spotlight from their 'big star'?"

Cold sweat instantly broke out on Ishida's forehead.

Now that he'd been exposed, he had no choice but to bite the bullet and use a shield: "Director, since you know the situation, you should understand my predicament. President Takada's words were very harsh... He said that if we don't 'clean up' Kitahara-kun's scenes, then the marketing budget for the next film will probably have to be reassessed."

The air froze instantly.

The staff moving equipment around them slowed down their movements.

Dozens of ears perked up.

Kitahara Shin, sitting in the shadows in the corner, was untying the prop bandages on his hands.

Upon hearing this, he stopped unwrapping the bandage.

He didn't pretend he didn't hear, nor did he continue to act cool by bowing his head.

Instead, she slowly raised her head, her eyes, still retaining a hint of theatricality, coldly locking onto Ishida through the crowd.

That look wasn't fierce, but rather an extremely calm scrutiny. It was like looking at a mouse that had foolishly jumped into a lion's cage.

This silent gaze sent a chill down Ishida's spine more than any rebuttal.

"Market expectations?"

Shinji Fukasaku repeated the word.

He didn't get angry immediately, but instead slowly took a drag of his cigarette and blew the smoke straight at Ishida's face, which was plastered with a fake smile.

"Cough cough..." Ishida coughed twice, choked by the fumes, but dared not dodge.

"Are you trying to tell me?"

Kinji Fukasaku narrowed his eyes, tapping his fingers on the thick storyboard, producing a dull thud. "I, Kinji Fukasaku, have been making films for thirty years, and I'm not as knowledgeable about the market as those idiots sitting in offices looking at reports?"

"No, that's not what I meant..."

"So what do you mean?"

"Go back and tell those idiots who only know how to look at financial statements."

Kinji Fukasaku slowly stood up and stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray with such force that it looked like he was going to crush it.

"This is Toei's film set, not Takada Kogyo's backyard."

The director's voice wasn't loud, but every word had a rough, sandpaper-like quality: "How to move the camera, how to edit, is the director's prerogative. You think it doesn't meet your expectations? Fine."

He pointed to the studio door, his tone chillingly calm:

"Go issue an official document with your production committee's seal, clearly stating in black and white: 'The production company forced the director to cut scenes.' If you dare to issue this document, I dare to cut. When the movie is released and the reviews collapse, don't blame me, Kinji Fukasaku, for not warning you."

"Director... this... this didn't have to come to this..." Ishida broke out in a cold sweat instantly.

That's the trick of a seasoned veteran.

I won't argue with you; I'll only talk to you about responsibility.

Once that signature is made, the producer will have to take the blame for the "bad movie," and Ishida wouldn't dare to take that responsibility even if he had a hundred lives.

"Tens of millions?"

Kinji Fukasaku sneered, his eyes sharp as knives. "When did that old fox Takada become Kanai's babysitter? To please an idol, he's even disregarding his own return on investment?"

He picked up the script on the table and slammed it heavily on Ishida's chest, forcing the man to take two steps back.

"Go back and tell President Takada,"

The director pointed to the studio door, his tone revealing a disdain for capital, "If he wants to let these tens of millions go down the drain, then keep listening to that gigolo's pillow talk! Want to cut scenes? Fine! Make him send over the stamped withdrawal agreement, and I, Kinji Fukasaku, will not stop him!"

"Director... this..."

"besides,"

Kinji Fukasaku interrupted him, his voice even colder, "By the way, tell Takada that since you've invested money in making a movie, you should respect the rules of filmmaking. If the people he's promoting can't even handle a supporting role and have to rely on the investors to pressure for scenes to be cut, then this kind of trash can only be a pop star in a greenhouse, and will never become a true actor!"

"And you, Ishida."

Kinji Fukasaku lit another cigarette, staring at him coldly. "I don't want to hear such unprofessional talk on my set again. If it happens again, I'll directly request Toei's management to replace the producer. Get out."

Ishida's face turned deathly pale.

He knew there was no way to negotiate. For a director of Kinji Fukasaku's caliber, replacing a producer was as simple as making a phone call.

He clutched his briefcase tightly, not even daring to look at the staff around him, and slunk out the door with his head down.

Even as the doors closed, the tense atmosphere inside the studio didn't completely relax.

Shinji Fukasaku sat back in his chair, his chest heaving violently a few times, followed by a heart-wrenching cough.

The assistant director quickly offered him water, but the director waved it away, his hand trembling slightly, and some cigarette ash fell onto his pants.

A hand reached out and naturally brushed the cigarette ash off his trouser leg, then tidied up the messy storyboards on the table.

It's Kitahara Shin.

"Director." Kitahara Shin's voice was steady as he handed Fukasaku a lighter to relight his nearly extinguished cigarette.

Kinji Fukasaku took a deep breath to calm himself and looked up at the young man.

"Kid, don't flatter yourself."

The director's tone was still sharp, but his eyes held a more complex expression. "I'm not protecting you, I'm protecting my work. If we have to turn the villain into an idiot just to promote the lead actor, then this movie will be a pile of crap."

"I know."

Kitahara Shin didn't say any of those empty words of loyalty. Instead, he turned around and walked to the script supervisor, tightening the prop bandages that had been loosened earlier.

"Sorry for delaying everyone's progress."

He bowed slightly to the lighting technician and cameraman, saying, "The next scene is a bit complicated, please take care of me."

That calm demeanor instantly gave the somewhat restless film set a sense of stability.

There was neither the elation of survival nor the resentment of humiliation. He stood under the lamplight, like a silent reef, unmoved by the crashing waves.

This is what a professional actor should be like.

As Kinji Fukasaku watched Shin Kitahara's retreating figure, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes relaxed slightly. He snorted and turned to the assistant director, saying:

"What are you standing there for? Let's get to work!"

"Yes, sir! All departments, take your positions!"

The assistant director shouted, "Next scene, Act 42, get ready!"

The machine started running again.

Kitahara Shin stood in front of the camera, adjusting his breathing.

Since the hidden arrows from below the stage can't hurt him, he needs to sharpen the knife on the stage even more.

It was so profitable that those who wanted to cut his scenes had no way to do so.