NIS Agent Reincarnated as a Genius Actor

‘The key to this scene is the emotional transition.’

Yeon-woo nodded at his reflection in the mirror. The scene he had focused on the most since receiving the storyboard and script was this one, featuring the young soldier. He would need to hear from the ad planner about the specific intent behind including this character, but Yeon-woo had interpreted the young soldier as the ’emotional switch.’

‘While the other characters aim to evoke patriotism through solemnity, this young soldier is meant to transform that patriotism into a sense of loss, sorrow, and urgency.’

Although he hadn’t yet portrayed the other characters, including Seo-hee, due to the reverse shooting order, Yeon-woo planned to act them as solemnly and dynamically as possible.

‘This contrast will make the emotional switch in this role stand out, and it will tie back to the first take of the pilot scene we shot earlier.’

The makeup team had finished their work.

“We’ve removed all the makeup as requested and added some realistic black smudges.”

Yeon-woo smiled and nodded. With his makeup completely removed, his face looked softer and more youthful. The oversized military uniform, designed to look baggy, further emphasized his boyish appearance. Standing up with soot on his face, he looked every bit the young soldier.

“Perfect.”

Though he still didn’t know the ad planner’s exact intent for this character, it was perfect for Yeon-woo’s plan to switch emotions.

Ready, Yeon-woo stepped onto the set, where the staff were efficiently preparing.

“Ready, action.”

At the director’s signal, Yeon-woo, who had been leaning against a trench, stood up. Before the shoot, neither the director nor the ad planner had given specific instructions about the role.

‘That means they trust my interpretation of the character.’

A staff member counted down as Yeon-woo moved out of the trench.

“Explosion in three, two, one!”

As the countdown ended, a device exploded in front of Yeon-woo, sending dirt flying into the air. Even though he had been briefed, another actor might have been startled. But for Yeon-woo, it was nothing compared to real explosions he had experienced.

With vacant eyes, Yeon-woo watched the dirt scatter before resuming his steps.

“Hmm?”

Director Lee Yong-soo’s eyebrows twitched as he watched Yeon-woo on the field monitor. This performance had a completely different feel from the previous roles.

The main focus for the ad planner and Director Lee had been the role of Seo-hee, which would appear in the first half of the commercial. The young soldier from the Korean War was included to depict significant military turning points in Korean history, and wasn’t considered a major part of the ad.

However, Director Lee sensed something significant as he watched Yeon-woo’s performance on the screen.

“Explosion again in three, two, one.”

As the staff counted down again, another explosion sent dirt flying. When the dust settled, Yeon-woo was staring directly at the camera. His eyes were filled with emptiness and sorrow.

‘Ah.’

At that moment, the camera director, the ad planner, and Director Lee all realized the intent behind Yeon-woo’s performance. It was unmistakable.

‘To abruptly switch the consistent emotions from the beginning, the emotions must be conveyed strongly and clearly.’

He had devised this scene after much contemplation. Generally, having an actor look directly into the camera is taboo in the film industry. Humans are instinctively drawn to where another’s gaze is directed, and when that gaze is directed at them, it induces anxiety. This triggers a fight-or-flight response, making the viewer feel the urge to either confront or flee from the gaze.

In other words, it amplifies the viewer’s anxiety.

‘But if the goal is to deliberately instill unease, this is the best method.’

As the dust settled, Yeon-woo’s eyes, captured in the frame, were endlessly vacant. Then, a subtle change occurred in those eyes. The desire to live, the longing to return to the hometown where his mother awaited. Yeon-woo layered these emotions over the emptiness through minute facial muscle movements.

His oversized, baggy military uniform and his youthful face, accentuated by the lack of makeup, brought all these emotions together.

‘It’s compassion.’

The camera director, Director Lee Yong-soo, and the ad planner all held their breath, fixated on the screen. In that brief moment, the young soldier conveyed a multitude of emotions through his eyes, evoking compassion in the viewers. Just a minute ago, a tall, handsome actor had stood there, but now, there was only a young soldier, battered and bruised by the horrors of the Korean War.

Director Lee, lost in thought and staring blankly at the monitor, finally snapped out of it.

“…Okay. Cut.”

Meanwhile, the ad planner from Ihan Group, who was observing the scene, was not just any planner but the head of the group’s public relations strategy department.

‘I can somewhat understand why the chairman gave direct orders.’

Initially puzzled by the direct orders for a mere CF model, he now nodded in understanding after witnessing Yeon-woo’s performance. Last year’s ad, which had aligned with Ryu Yeon-woo’s image, had yielded encouraging results. However, he had thought it was a temporary boost and didn’t believe it could change the public’s negative perception of the defense industry, tainted by corruption scandals.

But something struck him as he watched Yeon-woo’s performance.

‘We need to transform the image of the defense industry itself. We’ve operated in secrecy until now, but times have changed. We need to be more approachable…’

He then looked at Yeon-woo, who was brightly discussing the next scene with Director Lee in the middle of the set.

‘To do that, we should consider using this actor as a model in other areas of our group as well.’

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The subsequent shoots proceeded smoothly. As if to meet the staff’s expectations, Director Lee kept giving ‘okay’ signals, and the shoot wrapped up early around 5 PM. The staff, who had traveled all the way to Wonju Air Base for the fighter jet scenes, were thrilled at the prospect of returning home the same day and chanted ‘Ryu Yeon-woo’s name.

Back in the Seoul studio, while reviewing the footage, Director Lee suddenly stood up as if he had realized something.

“Wait, could it be?”

Director Lee, struck by an idea, hurriedly sat down and began cutting and pasting the footage using the editing program, as if possessed. The editing was rough and amateurish, with the footage being cut and pasted directly.

The rough cut was over a minute long, filled with unnecessary scenes and awkward transitions. It was an unfinished product.

“If it was done with intent…”

Director Lee played the hastily assembled footage, which merely followed the chronological flow of the eras depicted.

Seo-hee’s solemn determination as she rode a horse across the desert toward the enemy camp of the Khitan army. Although the scene was shot against a green chroma key background with a model horse, Director Lee could imagine the completed scene and nodded in approval.

Seo-hee then transformed into a blacksmith with a face illuminated by the red glow of a furnace. Despite being shot with just red LEDs, Ryu Yeon-woo’s nuanced acting made it feel as if molten metal was truly glowing within the furnace.

The nameless blacksmith of Joseon knew that the blades he forged would harm people and ultimately lead young soldiers to their deaths on the battlefield. Yet, knowing that it was for the defense of his country, he hammered the molten iron in the furnace with a solemn determination.

The scene transitioned from the Joseon warrior to the independence fighter during the Japanese occupation, and finally to the young soldier with a soot-covered face.

The young soldier walked wearily, covered in soot.

“Ah…”

The sight tugged at the heartstrings. The young soldier of the Korean War cared neither for the tragedy of fratricide nor for avenging his comrades. He simply wanted to survive and return home.

Ryu Yeon-woo’s portrayal of each era’s solemnity, expressed through subtle facial expressions and an aura of intensity, was captivating on the screen.

Finally, Ryu Yeon-woo, dressed in a flight suit, walked onto the screen. His calm expression and steady steps as a fighter pilot were captured in the first take, the one Director Lee had initially found bland.

Watching the footage in chronological order, Director Lee felt a bead of sweat trickle down his back. He felt a chill run through his body.

‘Did he plan this all along…?’

Lee Han Technology, the company behind this ad, was a defense contractor. Director Lee had initially thought the ad needed to evoke patriotism like a public service announcement. However, the restrained expression and steady steps of the fighter pilot in the first take, which he had initially found bland, now exuded trustworthiness.

The fiery passion shown from Goryeo to Joseon was enough to stir the viewers’ hearts. This ‘stirred emotion’ was transformed into ‘fear’ of war through the experiences of the independence fighter and the young soldier of the Korean War, teaching the lesson that the country could be lost.

The final scene of Ryu Yeon-woo walking slowly in a flight suit was not meant to reignite the viewers’ passion.

‘…The final goal was to instill trust. Considering the corporate image of a defense contractor, trust doesn’t come from fiery passion but from a cold, restrained demeanor.’

Modern national defense cannot rely solely on fiery passion. It requires advanced weapons made with precise technology to ensure self-reliance in defense.

In the first take, Ryu Yeon-woo, walking with a helmet under his arm in a flight suit, was cold and composed. His restrained expression and movements showed no emotional turmoil.

He looked like a professional pilot, seasoned through repeated training and extensive real-world experience.

And then, Director Lee recalled Yeon-woo’s request after finishing the shoot.

[Director, please review the first take of the pilot scene during editing.]

It dawned on him that this young actor had understood everything from the storyboard even before starting the shoot. Director Lee hadn’t realized it while shooting in reverse order, but seeing the final product, he now understood that Ryu Yeon-woo had been right all along.

He had initially thought Yeon-woo’s performance was bland because he hadn’t warmed up, but it was all meticulously calculated from the start.

“Huh, this actor… He’s even more impressive than I thought.”

Director Lee had met almost all of the top actors in the country during his directing career. Given the nature of CFs, he worked with numerous stars each year, and among them were actors who could grasp something beyond the script or storyboard through their performances.

‘But none of them were this young.’

Those actors were usually veteran performers with at least 30 years of experience in front of the camera. In contrast, Ryu Yeon-woo had only started making a name for himself recently, with his first CF being shot just three years ago. Although he had built an impressive career in that short time, he wasn’t yet considered a great actor.

He was the most dazzling rising star among the young actors who had debuted recently. However, after today’s shoot, Director Lee had to revise his evaluation of Ryu Yeon-woo.

“…A great star is about to rise in our country’s acting scene.”