sinovels Chapter 192 The Start of Filming in Summer and the "Strange" Crew
Chapter 192 The Start of Filming in Summer and the "Strange" Crew
Chapter 192 The Start of Filming in Summer and the "Strange" Crew
In mid-July, the sound of cicadas almost drowned out the sound of the Sumida River flowing.
Sumida Ward, Tokyo. Riverbank near Kotobuki Bridge.
This is the location where the movie "Kikujiro's Summer" was filmed.
"Hey, move the light panel a little further over there! Haven't you eaten?"
A staff member wearing a floral shirt and with a fierce-looking face shouted loudly.
The production assistants next to him also had buzz cuts and wore sunglasses, looking menacing. This was the legendary "Kitano Group" crew. Most of them were old buddies who had followed Takeshi Kitano for many years, used to making violent and bloody gangster films, and their demeanor was something they couldn't change overnight.
And right in the middle of the crowd.
Takeshi Kitano, wearing a cheap white polo shirt he'd somehow found and those thick-rimmed black glasses, sat in the director's chair with a gloomy face.
He was in low spirits because he hadn't slept well last night. His face, which was half stiff, combined with his signature twitching gesture, made him look even more terrifying than a real mob boss.
in the corner.
Seven-year-old Yusuke (Kenta) was clutching the script tightly, huddled behind the prop box, his legs trembling.
This is terrifying.
The director looked like he was about to eat someone alive. The uncles around him were also quite fierce.
"Yusuke, come here!"
The assistant director called out.
Yusuke shuddered, almost bursting into tears. He looked pleadingly at Kitahara Shin, who was standing not far away.
Kitahara Shin was leaning against the railing, playing with the [Lucky Marble (Purple)] in his hand.
Kitahara Shin looked at Yusuke, who was almost scared to death, and then at Kitano Takeshi, who was standing there like a demon, and shook his head helplessly.
This won't work. The core of this film is heartwarming and absurd comedy; if the actors get scared out of their wits, that natural "cuteness" will be completely ruined.
We must break the ice.
He walked over to the props department and casually picked up a "special prop" that had already been prepared.
Then, taking advantage of the moment when Takeshi Kitano stood up and started cursing, he quietly walked over and stuffed the prop under the cushion of the director's chair.
A few seconds later.
After scolding the lighting technician, Takeshi Kitano sat back down in his chair with a dark expression.
"puff!!!"
A loud, long, and rhythmic fart echoed through the quiet film set from the rubber seat.
The air freezes.
Everyone stared in disbelief at Takeshi Kitano sitting in the chair.
The usually stern, irritable, and intimidating "legendary director" was now still seated, his expression shifting from gloomy to astonishment.
'
One second. Two seconds.
"Hahahaha!"
No one knows who couldn't hold back first, but then the entire crew burst into a deafening roar of laughter.
Even the lighting technicians who looked like murderers were laughing so hard they were slapping their thighs.
Takeshi Kitano paused for a moment, then pulled the still-leaking "fart cushion" from under his buttocks. His fierce face flushed red as he glared angrily at Shin Kitahara standing beside him: "You bastard! How old are you? Playing these childish tricks?"
Kitahara Shin spread his hands, looking innocent: "Just trying to lighten the mood, Director. Look how happy everyone is."
"7
Happy indeed.
The tense, oppressive, and seemingly violent atmosphere of the gangster film set was completely shattered by this one fart.
And in the corner.
Yusuke, who was trembling with fear, now stared wide-eyed at Takeshi Kitano, who was holding a fart cushion and looking embarrassed.
So, this seemingly fierce grandpa can fart too?
And the way he held the cushion made him look like an idiot.
puff.
Yusuke covered his mouth and laughed out loud as well. The fear of the "yakuza devil" vanished in that instant. In its place was a sense of kinship, as if the other person was a "funny old man."
Takeshi Kitano looked at the group of people laughing, then glanced at the young actor who had stopped trembling, and finally didn't get angry.
He tossed the cushion back to Kitahara Shin, grumbling and snorting, but a slight smile played on his lips: "Alright! Have you laughed enough? Let's get to work!"
Action!
""
The clapperboard is struck.
The first scene.
The camera was focused on an old street in Sumida Ward.
Takeshi Kitano plays Kikujiro, wearing an ill-fitting floral shirt, sunglasses, hunched over, and standing by the roadside with his legs turned outwards.
He wasn't "acting".
Or rather, he abandoned all the exaggerated expressions and lines found in TV dramas.
He just stood there, occasionally twitching his shoulder, tilting his head, and looking around with the same disdain one might have for trash. He vividly portrayed the image of a middle-aged hooligan who was idle, living off others, yet inexplicably possessed a tenacious spirit.
And beside him.
Yusuke, carrying that little backpack with angel wings, stood there blankly.
Because of the earlier incident, Yusuke was no longer afraid. Following Kitahara Shin's previous instructions, he didn't make any unnecessary expressions. He didn't laugh, didn't cry, and didn't try to act cute.
He just stood there with his head down, his eyes somewhat vacant, looking both depressed and lonely.
Two people.
One big and one small.
One is a vicious, stupid thug; the other is a silent child abandoned by the world.
They stood side by side, ignoring each other.
The image itself is full of absurd tension.
"Hey, kid."
Takeshi Kitano suddenly spoke, his words mumbled and carrying a cheap, street-smart tone: "Do you have money?"
Yusuke looked up at him, then shook his head.
"cut."
Takeshi Kitano scoffed, turned around, and started walking forward with his signature pigeon-toed gait. After a couple of steps, he stopped and yelled without turning back, "Keep up, you idiot!"
Yusuke paused for a moment, then, carrying that ridiculous angel backpack, he followed after them with his short legs.
"Cut!"
Takeshi Kitano shouted.
He stood there and reviewed the surveillance footage.
In the scene, the long take perfectly captured the subtle sense of estrangement and chemistry between the two.
"Passed."
He nodded, took out a cigarette case from his pocket, put one in his mouth, but didn't light it.
He walked over to Kitahara Shin and, unusually, didn't put on a sour face as he watched the staff member wiping Yusuke's sweat.
"How is it?" Kitahara Shin asked with a smile.
"You little brat—"
Takeshi Kitano glanced at him: "He does have some skill."
He pointed to Yusuke, who was chugging water from a water bottle: "This kid is even more clever than I thought. He captured that 'dull' feeling perfectly. If it were any other child star, they would definitely be desperately trying to steal the spotlight by making funny faces at this point."
Being able to handle Takeshi Kitano's unconventional performance style while maintaining one's own rhythm is an extraordinary talent for a seven-year-old newcomer.
"That's right."
Kitahara Shin leaned back in his chair, looking at the "Masao" he had discovered, his tone tinged with pride: "I've told you, my judgment is never wrong."
"Alright, stop showing off."
Takeshi Kitano took the cigarette off his head, tucked it behind his ear, and turned to walk towards the camera: "Get ready for the next round! To the cycling track!"
Sunlight shone on the surface of the Sumida River, making it sparkle.
In this sweltering summer, this heartwarming road movie, destined to be recorded in film history, smoothly embarked on its journey with just one "fart" and a perfect scene between the two.
When Kitahara Shin and Kitano Takeshi were filming those "strange" scenes with Yusuke under the scorching sun of the Sumida River.
Tokyo's entertainment industry, however, was plunged into a bizarre frenzy because of his "absence".
Johnny & Associates
The conference room was filled with smoke.
The executives looked at the summer schedule on the wall, where the name of Kitahara Shin, which had previously been circled in red to represent "extreme danger," was now crossed out.
"Are you sure? That guy really went to make a movie?"
A senior executive stubbed out his cigarette, his tone tinged with an incredulous surprise.
-
"Absolutely true."
The intelligence chief threw several photos on the table—paparazzi photos taken on the set of "Kikujiro." In the photos, Kitahara Shin, wearing a floral shirt, was playing marbles with a child by the roadside like a fool.
"Not only did he go to make movies, but he did it with Takeshi Kitano."
"Takeshi Kitano?"
The higher-ups looked at each other, then burst into laughter.
In the 1993 film industry, although Takeshi Kitano had some fame and had won the Blue Ribbon Award, in the eyes of capital, he was a complete "box office poison".
His films are violent, obscure, and illogical; audiences simply can't understand them. His first two films were box office flops, leaving the investors with nothing.
"Has Kitahara Shin lost his mind?"
Another supervisor shook his head, his tone sarcastic: "He'd rather forgo a 30% rating TV drama to work with a washed-up director on an art film? Does he think he has too much money, or too much fame?"
"Who cares what he thinks?"
The person in charge, seated at the head of the table, tapped the table, his eyes instantly sharpening like a wolf spotting a weakness in its prey: "This is our chance."
"Without that 'ratings king,' this summer's ratings champion is now unclaimed."
He pointed to several names on the schedule: "Pass the word down to Kimura (Takuya)'s new drama and increase the promotional efforts! Also, schedule more variety shows for Nakai (Masahiro)!"
"While Kitahara Shin is committing suicide, we must reclaim all the market share we've lost! Let the audience know that even without Kitahara Shin, Johnny's is still the idol-making empire!"
It's not just Johnny's.
Burning Entertainment, Ken-On Entertainment—almost all the talent agencies have sprung into action.
Toshiaki Karasawa, Yosuke Eguchi, Yuji Oda—each company's star actor was pushed to the forefront. Without the pressure of Shin Kitahara, everyone felt confident, believing they could reign supreme this summer.
Suddenly, the summer TV drama market became a battleground.
Fuji Television, Programming and Production Department
Compared to the outside world's celebration, Fuji TV's top executives had mixed feelings.
"The ratings are out."
The assistant handed a report to the director.
The second episode of "Rie Miyazawa's Strange Food Journey" maintained a viewership rating of around 13%.
"The data is good —"
The bureau chief looked at the report, sighed, crumpled up a proposal in his hand, and threw it into the trash can: "But it's not enough!"
"What we want is a national drama like 'Flower of Evil' that can blow the audience away! Not this kind of small-scale late-night show!"
""
Although Rie's ability to drive sales is strong, and GG merchants are satisfied, for TV stations, prime-time dramas are what matter most and are the core battleground for vying for the "triple crown of ratings."
Watching TBS and NTV next door release several big-budget productions this summer, while he, holding Kitahara Shin's contract, could only wait for him to finish filming that lousy movie.
The bureau chief felt like he was holding a powerful sword, but could only use it to cut fruit.
"Just bear with it—"
He rubbed his temples, trying to console himself, "Once his movie flops and loses money, he'll naturally come back to making TV dramas. Then, I absolutely have to make him make a pure romance drama for me!"
[Office of a senior producer at Toho Film Company]
If the television industry is secretly pleased, then some people in the film industry are acting with a "watching the show" or even "revenge" mentality.
"You mean, Takeshi Kitano has started making movies again?"
The speaker was a middle-aged man named Ichiyamada, who was wearing an expensive suit and had his hair slicked back.
He was a top producer at Toho, specializing in big-budget commercial idol films. In his eyes, movies were commodities; they had to have handsome men and beautiful women, clichéd but touching storylines, and most importantly—they had to make money.
Takeshi Kitano is the person he hates the most.
Several years ago, on a television program, the outspoken Takeshi Kitano publicly mocked a blockbuster film produced by Yuki Oyama: "That kind of garbage can be called a movie? It's just a bunch of good-looking idiots sitting together reciting lines. The audience who watch that kind of movie probably have mush in their heads."
These words have made Oyamada resentful to this day.
"Yes, Mr. Oyamada."
The subordinate reported to the leader: "And this time he even brought in Kitahara Shin. I heard it's a low-budget production, about a story involving thugs and kids."
"A thug? Hmph, just playing yourself."
Oyamada sneered, twirling his cigar: "A thuggish director who only knows how to make violent films, plus an arrogant TV star. What good can these two possibly produce together?"
He stood up, walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, and looked out at the bustling Ginza district: "Perfect timing, our film 'Summer Love Song' is also scheduled for release at the end of August, right?"
"Yes. That's our big event this year, featuring three popular idols, with a promotional budget of 200 million yen."
,"very good."
Oyamada exhaled a smoke ring, a glint of sinister pleasure flashing in his eyes: "Then keep an eye on them. If they dare to release their film in the same time slot as us—"
"I'm going to use the box office to completely crush that talkative Takeshi Kitano and that arrogant Shin Kitahara."
"I want them to know that in the film industry, without the approval of the 'Big Three' (Toho, Toei, and Shochiku), they're nothing."
however.
Whether it's Johnny's ambition, Fuji TV's helplessness, or Oyamada's malice.
All the noise surrounding ratings, box office revenue, and capital games was kept outside the dam of the Sumida River.
As the sun sets, it paints the river a warm orange-red. The cicadas' chirping, no longer noisy, takes on a unique, lingering quality at this moment.
Kitahara Nobumasa sat undignifiedly on the concrete platform of the riverbank, holding a half-eaten soda popsicle in his hand, while Kitano Takeshi next to him was picking at the soles of his flip-flops.
"Hey, Kitano-san."
"what?"
"How was the soju at that food stall last night? I saw you drank quite a bit."
When alcohol was mentioned, Takeshi Kitano's usually expressionless face brightened slightly. He pursed his lips, looking disgusted: "So-so. The proprietress's hands were too shaky; she added too much soda water."
He gestured with his fingers, his tone revealing the discerning eye of a seasoned veteran: "A true Asakusa Highball requires a 3:7 ratio of shochu to soda water. And the ice can't be block ice from an ice machine; it has to be old ice chiseled out with an ice pick. That way, the flavor is strong enough, but not overpowering."
"Okay."
Kitahara Shin took a bite of his popsicle and chuckled, teasing, "Judging from your tone, you used to be an expert?"
"nonsense."
Takeshi Kitano snorted, a hint of nostalgic pride in his eyes: "Back when I worked at the Asakusa France-za (a strip club), I was the top elevator attendant and bartender. I could mix drinks for those dancing ladies with my eyes closed and still make them happy. Unlike today's young people, they can't even mix something as simple as water."
"Yes, yes, I know you're the legendary 'Asakusa Bartender'."
Kitahara Shin gave a perfunctory reply, finished his popsicle, and flicked the stick, which landed precisely in a trash can some distance away.
The two stopped talking.
A breeze blew from the river, carrying a damp coolness.
Not far away.
Yusuke, who had just finished filming, was running on the grass in the sunset, carrying the prop—a small backpack with pure white angel wings.
The child, who was originally a little shy, was now spreading his arms wide, imitating an airplane, and circling around the "gangster-faced" uncles who were packing up their equipment.
Meanwhile, the few fierce-looking lighting technicians and stagehands were all grinning and reaching out to tease him, completely devoid of their usual hostility.
Looking at this scene.
Takeshi Kitano's twitching lips slowly calmed down.
Kitahara Shinya narrowed his eyes.
"That kid runs pretty fast," Takeshi Kitano muttered.
"yes."
Kitahara Shin watched the small figure with angel wings running further and further away in the sunset and said softly, "It's summer after all."
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