Chapter 244 The Bicycle Shed in the Snow, the Birth of the Mirror of First Love
Chapter 244 The Bicycle Shed in the Snow, the Birth of the Mirror of First Love
Chapter 244 The Bicycle Shed in the Snow, the Birth of the Mirror of First Love
In Otaru, where snow is falling heavily, the temperature has dropped to an appalling minus ten degrees Celsius.
Since it's now the dead of winter, the indoor and warm outdoor scenes, such as the "library white curtains," which were originally scheduled to be filmed in spring and summer, have all had to be postponed until the weather warms up a few months later. The crew is currently focused on filming the important scenes of young Fujii Itsuki in the snowy winter landscape.
An open-air bicycle shed on the edge of a junior high school campus.
A cold wind howled, and fine snowflakes fell into the shed like blades. The scene depicted the girl, Fujii Itsuki, waiting for the boy, Fujii Itsuki, in the dim snowy night. They had accidentally swapped English exam papers and were now locked in an extremely awkward and subtle silence beside their bicycles. The boy, trying to see the answers on the paper, kept pedaling, the bicycle headlight, powered by friction, flickering in the snowy night.
"All departments, prepare!" Shunji Iwai, bundled up like a bear, shouted into a walkie-talkie.
Standing beside the bicycle, Takashi Kashiwabara and Miki Sakai took a deep breath, the cold air filling their lungs and making them shiver slightly.
Actually, just five minutes ago, an extremely interesting behind-the-scenes moment happened here.
The crew had just set up the lights when Takashi Kashiwabara, due to nervousness and slippery shoes with ice and snow on the soles, got on his bicycle and was about to pedal when his foot slipped and he and the bicycle tipped over in a snowdrift with a loud crash.
The extremely quiet and tense atmosphere at the scene was instantly shattered by this sudden turn of events.
Kashiwabara Takashi lay on his back in the snow, completely stunned. His face instantly turned red to the roots of his neck, and he inwardly wailed, "I'm doomed. I've made a huge fool of myself in front of Kitahara-senpai." The staff members next to him wanted to laugh but dared not, their faces turning bright red as they tried to suppress their laughter.
At this extremely awkward moment, Kitahara Shin, who was standing on the periphery, laughed out naturally. He stepped forward, and without asking his assistant for help, personally reached out and pulled Kashiwabara Takashi out of the snow pit, casually patting the snow off his bottom.
"The action design is pretty good, it captures the clumsiness of adolescence realistically," Kitahara Shin joked. "But when we officially start filming later, you should still show off a little, otherwise you might break your leg before you can even see the exam paper."
The entire audience burst into laughter. Shunji Iwai joined in the laughter, shouting through a megaphone, "Kashiwabara, this is the Oscar-winning actor personally helping you up! If this clip airs, your female fans will be green with envy!"
That smile completely livened up the previously frozen atmosphere on set. The immense pressure that Kashiwabara Takashi and Sakai Miki felt from being watched by the big boss also miraculously vanished with this little incident.
A few days ago, faced with this cold and the watchful eyes of multiple cameras, these two young newcomers would surely have frozen like wooden blocks. But at this moment, under the unspoken emotional reassurance of Kitahara Shin, their minds kept replaying the tips Kitahara Shin had taught them yesterday—"Empty your mind, retain your most instinctive reactions, and feel the reality of the environment."
"Action!"
As the clapperboard fell again, Takashi Kashiwabara's hand firmly gripped the cold bicycle handlebars.
He didn't care where the camera zoomed in; instead, he genuinely felt the piercing sensation of his fingers being slightly numb from the cold.
In the dim snowy landscape, he hopped on his bicycle and began pedaling hard.
"Crunch, crunch—"
The old headlights cast a dim yellow light, illuminating the English exam paper. Takashi Kashiwabara checked his answers by the light. He didn't try to act "cool," but rather naturally conveyed the awkwardness of a teenage boy facing a girl he liked, not knowing what to say and resorting to finding fault and silence to hide his inner turmoil.
Meanwhile, Miki Sakai, who was standing to the side, was also completely in the zone.
She secretly glanced at the aloof boy pedaling his bicycle with his head down in the snowy night. Her eyes held both a strange disdain for him and a hint of the fluttering of a young girl's first love, which she herself was unaware of.
There were no lines, only the sound of bicycle pedals turning, exhaled breath, and the soft rustling of falling snowflakes.
But in the monitor footage, this extremely restrained, even somewhat clumsy, interaction between the young boy and girl burst forth with a breathtaking beauty and innocence.
That feeling of first love, unique to the 1990s and imbued with the scent of ice and snow, practically overflows from the screen.
"Cut! Perfect!"
Shunji Iwai was so excited he almost jumped off his chair. He turned to look at Shin Kitahara, who was standing quietly to the side, his eyes filled not only with awe for the big boss, but also with complete admiration for the "godfather of film and television's" sharp eye.
It's amazing! He originally thought these two newcomers would need at least a dozen takes before they could even get a feel for it.
As a result, Kitahara Shin casually offered a couple of pointers on a bench yesterday, and today he used an inconspicuous joke to help them unload their psychological burden. It was as if he had cast a spell, directly shattering their originally stiff performance shell.
This ability to transform the mundane into the extraordinary is even more terrifying than Kitahara Shin's own acting.
Kitahara Shin looked at the two young actors who breathed a long sigh of relief, smiled and nodded, his eyes full of admiration.
With the completion of filming at the bicycle shed and several outdoor snow scenes, the two young actors have successfully wrapped up their "winter scenes" in Hokkaido. The remaining indoor scenes will have to wait a few months to film.
To reward the film crew for their hard work in the freezing cold and for eating cold boxed meals for a week, Kitahara Shin generously paid out of his own pocket to book out the most prestigious Hokkaido Wagyu yakiniku restaurant in Otaru.
"Eat whatever you want tonight, it's on the agency's tab. If that's not enough, bring out all the wine from the boss's cellar." Kitahara Shin took off his coat, and his words instantly ignited the passion of the entire crew.
The warm charcoal fire, the sizzling, top-quality Wagyu beef, and the ice-cold Sapporo beer completely swept away the crew's fatigue. Even the usually burly production assistants and lighting technicians raised their glasses, loudly praising President Kitahara's generosity.
Actually, something very interesting happened at the yakiniku restaurant.
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A slightly tipsy assistant director, emboldened by the alcohol, came over to toast Kitahara Shin, but his tongue got tied, and he blurted out, "Kitahara-senpai! I admire you so much! I've watched your 'Great Investigation Line' five times! Long live the Aoshima police! Down with those damned conglomerate executives!"
Upon hearing this, everyone at the table fell silent. It's important to understand that Kitahara Shin is now a true financial tycoon; in a sense, he's like the high-ranking "high-level executive" depicted in movies.
Instead of getting angry, Kitahara Shin raised his beer glass and clinked it against his, jokingly saying in a very humorous Kansai dialect, "Drinking beer that I, the current high-ranking official, am paying for, while shouting that you want to overthrow me, aren't you a traitor? If you really want to rebel, you'll have to pay for the entire crew's yakiniku tonight."
The assistant director was stunned for a moment, and then the crew erupted in a burst of laughter that seemed to lift the roof off.
"I was wrong, Kitahara-senpai! I'll punish myself with three drinks!" The assistant director quickly blushed and downed three glasses of beer, instantly pushing the atmosphere to its climax.
This approachable demeanor, completely devoid of any airs of a tycoon and with an impeccable sense of propriety, instilled in everyone present an extreme sense of comfort and unwavering loyalty.
During the meal, Kashiwabara Takashi and Sakai Miki, carrying juice, walked very respectfully and nervously to Kitahara Shin's table.
"Kitahara-senpai—" Kashiwabara Takashi bowed deeply, his eyes filled with undisguised admiration. "Thank you for your guidance yesterday. We would have definitely messed up today without you. This is a toast to you!"
After saying that, the two tilted their heads back and drank the juice in their glasses in one gulp.
Kitahara Shin picked up the sake in front of him, smiled, and took a sip: "You've walked your own path, and your understanding is your own. From now on, try to learn less about the routines of industrial assembly lines and more about experiencing life. That's how you'll go further."
These few simple words of advice were invaluable to the two young men. Looking at this top-tier tycoon with a grand vision and unpretentious manner, they had already regarded Kitahara Shin as the most important mentor in their acting careers.
Miho Nakayama, sitting to the side, watched this scene quietly.
She watched as Kitahara Shin naturally took the skewers and helped the people at the table turn the Wagyu beef on the charcoal fire, watching him effortlessly defuse awkward situations and comfort his juniors amidst laughter and conversation.
That kind of personal charm made the seed in her heart take root even deeper.
An extremely lavish wrap party dispelled all the chill in the crew.
It was as if even the heavens had finally been won over by this barbecue. The next morning, when Kitahara Shin drew back the curtains of the hotel, he found that the blizzard that had raged for a whole week and seemed to be swallowing up the entire city of Otaru had finally stopped.
The rising sun tore through the thick clouds, and golden sunlight shone on the extremely thick, pure white snow in Otaru, reflecting a dazzling yet incredibly sacred light.
The air was extremely cold, but the visibility and light were excellent.
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From the corridor came Shunji Iwai's excited, almost hoarse shout: "The weather's perfect! Everyone grab your equipment, get ready to go up the mountain! We're filming the finale!"
This was the final stage that the entire "Love Letter" crew had been waiting for for a whole week.
In the lobby, everyone sprang into action. Miho Nakayama, dressed in heavy hiking gear, held a thermos cup she used to warm her hands, her knuckles slightly white from the effort.
In fact, climbing from the foot of the mountain to the designated shooting location is also a very challenging journey.
Because the snow was so deep, in many places one could sink above knee-deep with a single step. The film crew carried heavy tracks and camera equipment, panting heavily as they walked.
Then a small incident occurred.
Director Shunji Iwai, walking at the front of the group, was so excited that he kept looking around with a viewfinder, completely unaware of his footing. As a result, with a "thud," he stepped into a snow-covered pit and fell halfway down, unable to pull himself out, like a carrot stuck in the snow.
"Help! Help! My machine!" Shunji Iwai screamed in the pit.
Everyone was startled and quickly gathered around. They discovered the hole wasn't deep; it was just that the snow was too thick and had blocked it.
Kitahara Shin happened to be walking behind and shook his head helplessly when he saw this. He stepped forward and, without letting the others do anything, grabbed the back of Iwai Shunji's coat collar with great dexterity. With a sudden burst of strength in one arm, he pulled the man, who weighed over 100 pounds, out of the snow pit, just like pulling up a vine.
"Filming is filming, but don't kill yourself, Director Iwai," Kitahara Shin said, patting the snow off him with a lighthearted teasing tone.
The crew, who were initially tense and in a somber mood due to filming the climax of the entire movie, were instantly amused by this scene of "the director pulling out a radish".
Everyone laughed as they continued climbing, but the heavy pressure in their hearts was greatly relieved by this comical episode and Kitahara Shin's composure.
Upon reaching the designated halfway point on the mountain, the view suddenly opened up.
The endless, pure white snow-capped mountains appear serene and sacred under the sunlight.
Miho Nakayama took a deep breath of the cold air, trying to calm her wildly beating heart.
This was not only an emotional outburst from Hiroko Watanabe, but also her ultimate expression of this hidden affection.
She has to do her best.
Kitahara Shin walked over from the side, still wearing that purple cashmere scarf around his neck.
He walked up to Miho Nakayama, offering no flowery words of encouragement, nor mentioning a single word from the script.
He simply looked at her with an extremely calm gaze, reached out, gently patted her tense shoulder, and nodded slightly.
That feeling of power, as if it could support everything, instantly pierced through Miho Nakayama's anxiety through that palm.
She nodded vigorously, her confidence in facing the final challenge reaching its peak at that moment.
MMB