Life, Once Again!

After Story 60



After Story 60

A shadow loomed over the sky and the road that was shot from a low angle. The sole of a trainer filled the screen. Along with some white noise, the sound of asphalt being stepped on could be heard before the owner of the trainer became distant with his back to the camera.

He was wearing a work uniform stained with paint and a baseball cap that had yellowed out. In one hand was a cigarette that was almost burnt out. It explained the situation the protagonist was in with just one cut.

The place changed. It was now a cramped house. The man wearing the work uniform opened the door and came inside. His eyes were filled with fatigue, looking like they would close at any moment.

Having thrown down the baseball cap, the man staggered as he took off his uniform.

Seoksoo rather liked the natural-looking everyday act.

The man, who took off his pants while wiggling his toes, immediately lay down on the blanket laid out on the floor. An exhausted breathing sound came out through the speaker.

The sound didn’t contain any strength and exhausted the listener as well.

Thud thud — the sound of knocking broke the short silence. The man did not move. Following that, his phone started ringing. The ringtone and the bell created a harmony.

The man put a blanket over his head and slapped his phone away. A moment later, there was the sound of some keys clinking before the door opened.

It was a woman. Just like the man, she looked to be in her twenties.

The camera scanned the messy state of the house from the perspective of the woman’s eyes. The woman started cleaning. The man on the floor did not say anything. Around the time the woman finished cleaning, the woman said that they should have a talk.

“Later. Let’s have one later,” the man said while rolling himself up in the blanket.

His sunken voice indicated how exhausted he was as well as how bothersome he found this situation. The woman kept demanding to talk, but the man did not respond.

The woman stood up — Let’s finish up our relationship, goodbye.

The man, who only turned his head to glance at the woman, smiled like he was fed up before pulling the blanket over his head.

Then, the screen changed. The man wearing the work uniform took out his phone next to the construction zone sign board.

“Pick up.”

After talking to himself, the man then wrecked his nerves before turning off his phone.

The figure of him carrying bricks, eating food, and working followed as a montage.

The camera then came back to his house. The man, who was still exhausted, sleepily took off his trousers and threw himself on the unmanaged blanket.

The man, who was floundering in silence, took out his phone. He called the woman again. Only the signal beeping could be heard, and the woman did not pick up.

“God dammit. What does she want now.”

The man put his hand inside his pants and scratched his butt before tossing his phone away as if he didn’t need it anymore.

He kept giving the phone some glances every now and then like he was a thief.

Seoksoo liked that acting. That ‘pathetic act’ of the protagonist that had no likable elements created comedy, and at the same time, sympathy.

It was a boring parting of a long-time pair of lovers that some might have heard, or perhaps even experienced.

After that, the camera kept capturing the man inside the house. It went through every single one of the man’s actions like a CCTV.

The man would cook himself some food, order deliveries, sigh while looking at the crumpled-up laundry, and clean his dirty bathroom while swearing.

The man who went outside and came back had some soju in his hands.

At this point, Seoksoo could guess what would follow. This film did not concentrate on the plot of the story, or the direction. Instead, it used the sympathy of everyday life as an advantage. This film was like an essay.

And the male actor on the screen was bringing out the taste of the film quite well.

Seoksoo thought: Perhaps the director didn’t find an actor to fit the scenario, but wrote the scenario based on that actor.

The man, drunk, called the woman. He sobbed and repented his past.

I’m sorry, I was wrong. I’ll do better.

After a fadeout, the man could be seen lying face down again. The house was still in a mess. The same knock could be heard, followed by the opening of the door.

When the woman came inside, the man looked at her in a daze before grinning.

The film ended after getting a close-up of the man’s shy smile.

“I haven’t watched something like this in a while. It tossed aside any kind of plot and just focused on the events that happened. I quite like this kind of thing. Also, I quite like that actor. He looks innocent and naïve, but he also has a sneaky side to him,” Lee Sooae said.

Seoksoo nodded in agreement. He liked it because it didn’t awkwardly try to follow existing pieces. The actor was also great. There wasn’t the pressure of ‘I have to look natural’ coming off of his acting.

Whether he was born with it or attained it through much practice, he could not tell, but that fellow was someone who would likely become successful as an actor.

“It’s okay, but it’s still a little disappointing. Was it really necessary to make that into a video? That is the first thought I had. I think it would’ve been better if they dug into the characters a little more and brought out some topics to talk about.” Choi Jaehan voiced a different opinion.

The good point about this film was that there were things to talk about, even if some people disagreed. For the films prior to this, they just skipped over everything without talking.

“Anyway, the general opinion is that the actor is good,” Lee Chansik said. Everyone agreed as they looked at the man on the screen.

“The actor’s name is Park Joohwan. I’ll have to see the other one as well, but I’m going to give my vote to him. That kind of act is quite difficult, right? But he did it pretty well,” Lee Sooae said, spinning her pen. She closed the screen and started writing.

Seoksoo gave a higher score than the previous ones because he liked the ordinary color it had. While he didn’t know if it would receive an award, it would definitely be screened.

“I think I should go watch this during the GV.”

“Let me go with you.”

Everyone put their pens down, seemingly having finished their assessment. Now, there was just one left.

“Let’s go get something to eat after the last one. I’m so hungry.”

“Are you treating us, senior?”

“Have I ever not?”

Seoksoo glanced at Lee Sooae. Another screen popped onto the blue desktop background. The mouse cursor was placed on the last video. Along with a clicking sound, the video appeared on the screen.

“‘The Form of Love.’ First up, that’s not a title I like.”

The film began with Lee Sooae’s giggle. This was the other film that Lee Chansik called a ‘problem.’ As ‘Water Fog’ was pretty decent, Seoksoo focused on the screen expectantly.

The first cut of the film was shot facing down on a man who opened his eyes in an apartment. The man, who stared at the ceiling without budging for a single moment as though he was crushed by something heavy, slowly stood up.

Seoksoo crossed his arms. If the actor in Water Fog expressed lightness with a mix of humor, the actor in front of him acted out frustration with a mix of weightiness.

The man washed up and changed his clothes excruciatingly quietly and took his bag. There wasn’t a single hint of vitality in him.

What is the reason behind the depression on his face? The director had not yet revealed the reason.

The screen changed and a lecture room appeared. It was bright, a stark contrast to the man’s gloomy room. It even looked a little too bright. A woman approached the man who was sitting in a daze. She asked if he was okay with concern on her face. There seemed to have been some sort of accident.

“It’s a pity about what happened to Mijin, but you can’t hold onto her forever.”

After that line, the man’s expression fell apart. Even depression could no longer be seen. It was a face that was literally ‘zoned out’. His soul had left through his eyes.

Seoksoo could assume that Mijin must have been a close friend or a lover.

For 20 seconds, the camera showed the man’s face. 20 seconds was quite long in a film. Not only that, there was not a single line and it showed just the man’s face. While it was enough for the audience to lose their attention, the actor’s skills took away any kind of boredom.

Seoksoo frowned. He didn’t do it consciously. He was just drawn by the emotions of the man on the screen, making him tense his face.

The way the man’s face broke down over the span of 20 seconds left a deep impression on him. The act was quite detailed. The minute movement of the eyes, the trembling of the lips, and the stiffening of the muscles created a trio.

Even while harboring a tragic emotion, the audience would never be able to tell if it wasn’t expressed through the actor’s eyes and muscles. That young actor was accurately aware of all of that. Young actors tended to find it difficult to express their inner emotions outside due to being too focused on the inner part, but that young man was different.

It was clear that he knew what emotions would be visible and how he should show them. Seoksoo liked the nonchalance of the actor from Water Fog, but he also liked the seriousness of this actor.

He quickly looked down, looking for the actor’s name: Han Maru. It was a rather peculiar name that wasn’t easily forgotten.

“He’s good.”

While it was no obligation, everyone stayed quiet during the screening, but someone spoke for the first time. It was Choi Jaehan.

“Yeah,” Lee Sooae responded.

A light appeared in the man’s eyes as he was falling to the depths of the abyss. He floundered upwards and headed to the entrance of the lecture room.

The camera, which followed the man’s gaze, showed the entrance to the room. There was a woman there. She was looking at the camera expressionlessly.

Her expression was a stark contrast to the brightly colored one-piece dress she was wearing, which indicated one thing.

She was a dead person, aka, Mijin.

The camera put the man in the frame again. The man, who leaned against the wall looking for Mijin, curled up and fell down.

The screen changed. It was in front of a lake with a signboard. It truly looked dreary. The bitter and depressing scenery was just like the man. Seoksoo thought that the choice of location was pretty good.

There, the man met Mijin again. It was here he realized something. Mijin was no ghost; she was an illusion. She was the hope and the despair that only the man could see.

There were no fantasy elements like dead souls appearing. After that, the man conversed with the illusion, loved the illusion, and spent his time with it. In that short cut, the man was filled with vitality like never before.

It became bright. However, this didn’t last long. The man possessed clear reason; he had enough to know that he was not sane, that illusions were just illusions. and that he could never console himself by relying on them.

The man became dry. His friends who looked out for him and even his family became distant, nay, disappeared.

The camera kept showing the lecture room and the street, but no people were there. Seoksoo felt like he could tell what the director’s intention was.

At the last moment, the man and the woman were the only ones remaining in a space where everything had disappeared. The man embraced the woman. Whether it was because he loved her, or was trying to escape the solitude that would lead to his death, he could not tell.

The perspective changed and the camera portrayed a man in a hugging position all by himself before leaving the house. In the streets were people. The sound of bright laughter filled the audio before the screen went dark.

“The story is quite old-fashioned, but the direction was quite good. He’s a talented director. As long as he gains experience, I think he’ll make some good pieces,” said Lee Sooae. Her assessment didn’t end there. “Also, the actor. His acting style isn’t something I prefer, I’ll say that. He’s too tight. It almost looks stuffy. However, I’m absolutely not saying that he’s bad. It’s a matter of personal preference.”

“He’s twenty-two? He has a solid foundation. I wonder where he popped out from.”

“Tell me about it. But actors like this do appear from time to time. They don’t last long though. They’re too fixed in one style and can’t change it. Unless he finds a way to gain fame by finding a piece that is perfect for him, he will disappear.”

“True. I don’t think he can act like the actor from Water Fog.”

Seoksoo quietly listened to the words of his junior directors. They all had a point.

“Anyway, we all agree that it might not be a well-made film, but it is a good film?”

“Rather than calling it good, I’d like to call it an interesting film.”

Seoksoo nodded and asked, “Okay then. Since we watched everything, let’s make a decision. I think two out of the ten spots are decided. Water Fog and this one. What does everyone think?”

The answer came back soon — of course; this is definitely going on screen.

“Good. That’s two. Now, let’s pick the other eight.”


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