Chapter 253 Summer Wrap-up! Love Letter Premiere
Chapter 253 Summer Wrap-up! Love Letter Premiere
Chapter 253 Summer Wrap-up! Love Letter Premiere
The turmoil caused by the audition controversy within Fuji TV has not yet completely subsided, and Kitahara Shin has already withdrawn and returned to his home base.
The air conditioning was blasting in the top-floor office.
Rie Miyazawa pushed open the door and walked in, casually placing her sunglasses on the coffee table before sitting down on the sofa opposite Shin Kitahara.
She picked up her water glass, took a sip to moisten her throat, which was a little dry from vocal practice, and said with a casual, teasing tone, "Why did Secretary Aida call me up from the vocal studio so urgently? Akina-nee and Izumi-nee are releasing a duo project single next month, and I was pulled in to do backup vocals. I've been in the recording studio with them these past few days transcribing sheet music. The lead role for 'Long Vacation' was just decided for Nanako yesterday, and you're already calling me here today to give her a consolation prize?"
Kitahara Shin was looking at a report when he heard this. He looked up but didn't respond to her joke. He opened a drawer, took out a thick, bound business plan, and pushed it to the center of the table.
"Take a look at this."
Rie put down her water glass and took it suspiciously. The moment she opened the cover, she froze.
Proposal for a live-action movie adaptation of "Cat's Eye".
Starring: Rie Miyazawa as the eldest sister, Rui Kisugi.
"An adaptation of Hojo Tsukasa's manga?" Rie quickly flipped through a few pages, her gaze stopping at the budget section. She raised an eyebrow. "1.5 billion yen? Nobu-kun, are you kidding me?"
In this day and age, investing 1.5 billion yen in a single live-action film in Japan is an absolute gamble. And this is an action film told entirely from a female perspective.
"The film and television adaptation rights were just finalized last week. Next month, the Hollywood wire stunt team and action director will be on set. The roles of the second and third sisters will be filled by newcomers from our agency. You are absolutely the core of this film." Kitahara Shin leaned back in his chair, his tone as calm as if he were discussing the weather.
Rie closed the proposal, her expression becoming somewhat complicated. She looked at the man in front of her and took a deep breath.
"Why did you suddenly give me such a big plate?" She put away her previous joking thoughts and her tone became serious.
Kitahara Shin looked at her, not launching into a lengthy analysis of the market and acting styles like a producer would, but simply asked matter-of-factly, "After yesterday's audition, I promised you the lead role in the next big commercial production. Since I promised you, I'll definitely keep my word, won't I?"
Rie was visibly taken aback when she heard this statement, which was made without any ulterior motives and was purely based on a promise.
She stared intently at Kitahara Shin, then couldn't help but smile slightly. A visibly moist joy welled up in her beautiful eyes. She knew, of course, the value of this proposal; it wasn't just resources bought with money, but also the unique favor this man showed her.
Rie stood up, walked around the desk to Kitahara Shin's side, and bent down.
She reached out and straightened Kitahara Shin's shirt collar, deliberately lowering her voice and leaning close to his ear with the flair of a mature woman: "The boss is going all out to promote me, so it looks like I'll have to work my ass off to make money for you in the next few months."
After saying that, she turned her head and left a kiss on Kitahara Shin's lips.
On the surface, she seemed like a fairy who could handle anything, but when Kitahara Shin casually put his arm around her waist, he could clearly feel the girl's body stiffen slightly.
The two had long been intimate, sharing a bed, and Kitahara Shin could easily tell that she was feigning composure. The blush creeping up her ears betrayed her inner shyness and excitement.
Kitahara Shin didn't expose her forced maturity facade; instead, he tightened his arms around her, his fingers gently caressing her lower back, a hint of a smile appearing in his deep eyes.
Feeling the man's all-knowing yet tender affection, Rie's blush deepened.
She simply gave up on pretending, buried her face in the crook of his neck, and rubbed against him contentedly like a cat that had just gotten candy.
After reassuring the allocation of resources at home, Kitahara Shin's schedule was seamlessly connected. He led his team straight to the set of Shunji Iwai's "Love Letter," where he himself didn't have many summer scenes left.
With his deep familiarity with the character of "Shigeru Akiba", Shin Kitahara passed the test in less than two days and completed all his scenes in a clean and efficient manner.
However, he did not rush to leave the set.
As the main controller and largest investor of this film, he specially set aside half a day to visit the filming location at a middle school in Kobe.
Today we're filming the most classic scene from the entire movie, a memory of high school days.
Afternoon sunlight streamed through the corridor's glass windows, casting shadows on the floor. Kitahara Shin stood quietly beside the monitor behind Iwai Shunji, arms crossed.
The camera is pointed directly at the school library.
A summer breeze blew by, and the white, semi-transparent gauze curtains by the window were rolled up high.
Takashi Kashiwabara plays the young Fujii Itsuki, dressed in a clean white shirt, leaning against the windowsill, looking down at an English book in his hands. The wind repeatedly blows the white curtains up and down, the boy's profile appearing and disappearing behind the semi-transparent curtains, carrying an unadorned coolness and aloofness.
Not far away, Fujii Itsuki, played by Miki Sakai, is holding several books and staring blankly at the boy reading behind the curtain.
There wasn't a single line of dialogue.
The only sounds are the wind, the turning of pages, and the Tyndall effect produced by sunlight cutting through the air.
The purest and most secret crush of adolescence was brought to life in this moment.
Behind the monitor, Shunji Iwai clasped his hands together, resting them on his chin, and whispered a word, suppressing his excitement. He let out a long breath, turned to look at Shin Kitahara behind him, his eyes filled with the fervor of someone who had found a treasure.
Kitahara Shin looked at the frozen image on the screen and nodded approvingly.
Others might just think the scene was beautifully shot, but he, as a time traveler, knew all too well the significance of this shot in Asian film history.
This ethereal, fragile, yet breathtakingly beautiful atmosphere of pure love is not only the soul of the entire film "Love Letter," but also an unsurpassable white moonlight in the youthful memories of countless people for decades to come.
With this iconic scene, the film's foundation is now completely solid.
With this beautiful moment frozen in time, the reshoots for the summer portion of "Love Letter" were officially completed, and the entire film was successfully wrapped.
As time goes by, the chill of early autumn begins to permeate the streets of Tokyo.
"Tell Me You Love Me" concluded its run on TBS with an unprecedented ratings phenomenon. Almost on the same day the finale aired, posters for "Love Letter" were plastered all over subway stations and prime commercial districts.
As the largest investor in this film, Shin Kitahara has now revealed all his commercial fangs.
He personally invited several managing directors of Toho Cinemas to his office and, relying on the terrifying prestige accumulated from the 5 billion yen box office of "Bayside Shakedown," he managed to create the largest opening screening schedule in Japan for "Love Letter," a film that was originally supposed to follow the path of "single-screening and slow fermentation" as an art film.
Moreover, Kitahara Office's overseas public relations department had been working non-stop for half a month.
Leveraging the international connections established through his previous collaboration with Takeshi Kitano on "Kikujiro's Summer" at the Cannes Film Festival, Secretary Aida has already submitted the completed film and the English-subtitled version of "Love Letter" to the selection committees of the Toronto International Film Festival and the Venice Film Festival.
The feedback from overseas buyers was exceptionally good; Kitahara Shin had already secured this ticket to the international art world.
Mid-September, Shinjuku Toho Grand Theatre.
There was no fancy red carpet show at the premiere of "Love Letter".
But the people sitting in the screening room were enough to represent half of the Japanese film industry.
A large number of film directors, veteran film critics, culture editors from mainstream media outlets, and popular actors who were invited filled the huge screening room to capacity. Most of them came with pure anticipation for watching the film.
The lights dimmed, and the big screen lit up.
Accompanied by melodious and cool background music, snow scenes of Kobe and Otaru appear alternately.
Miho Nakayama demonstrated remarkable control over two characters who looked alike but had completely different personalities.
Hiroko Watanabe's poignant beauty and the bright yet oblivious nature of the young Fujii Itsuki are portrayed with exquisite detail.
The screening room was quiet, with only the light from the screen illuminating the focused faces of the audience.
Unbeknownst to everyone, they were drawn into the sorrowful memories triggered by a letter sent to heaven.
Shin Kitahara's portrayal of Shigeru Akiba in this ethereal story exudes an irreplaceable sense of depth.
He didn't use any exaggerated acting to steal the spotlight from the male and female leads. He simply offered Hiroko a cup of hot tea when she was confused, and bought her a train ticket to Otaru without hesitation when she wanted to find the truth. His maturity and deep affection created the only safe haven the female lead could find in the real world.
The movie's progress bar slowly pushed towards its climax.
On the big screen, the image is frozen on the snow-covered Mount Akaya.
The wind and snow howled sharply through the speakers. Hiroko trudged through knee-deep snow, stumbling and staggering as she ran towards the distant mountains where her deceased ex-boyfriend was buried.
She stopped, cupped her hands to her reddened lips, and with all the strength in her chest, shouted out to the vast, boundless snow-capped mountains.
"Are you OK--!"
"I am fine--!"
again and again.
The sound came intermittently through the wind and snow, carrying a heart-wrenching sob and more than a decade of resentment and longing.
In the screening room, the suppressed sobs finally broke out. Several actresses in the front row took out tissues, and the usually sharp-tongued film critics in the back row silently took off their glasses and rubbed their sore eyes.
At this moment, the camera precisely cuts to Shigeru Akiba standing in the back.
Kitahara Shin stood in the raging snowstorm, his coat covered in snow.
He didn't shed a single tear, but simply watched Hiroko's thin, trembling back in silence.
His slightly reddened eyes were brimming with an indescribable emotion.
It was the relief of finally seeing the woman I love let go of the past after a long wait, the deep heartache of seeing her cry her heart out, and the profound acceptance of her for all the years to come.
He stood silently in the snow, like a wall blocking out all the cold wind.
This silent acceptance, like a sharp yet gentle knife, instantly pierced the tear ducts of everyone present.
The defenses collapsed completely, and suppressed sobs filled the dark screening room.
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