Glory Film Company

Episode 29: The Atmosphere on Set

Love stories are rooted in universal emotions—everyone has experienced them and believes they understand them. Because of this, they are often seen as common.

However, Ha Pilsung’s strength lay in his ability to infuse stories with intense realism.
Stories grounded in reality.
Stories that felt like watching two real people living their lives somewhere in the world.

This sense of authenticity was also evident in his previous erotic films. Yet back then, the poor lighting, props, and sets often led to inconsistent atmospheres within the same film. Ha Pilsung developed his unique style to compensate for these shortcomings, but the limitations of a “B-grade aesthetic” couldn’t be entirely overcome.

Thus, 300 Days After We Break Up became a project where Ha Pilsung could finally resolve the frustrations he had accumulated over the years.

With a significantly larger budget, he was able to gather experts from every field to realize his vision. The preparation process seemed close to flawless.

Thanks to help and connections from directors Lee Deokjae and Kwak Junghoon, the best technical teams joined the production.

“If we’re shooting on location, we’ll need to examine the terrain over there, but I’ve got a rough idea of the lighting requirements.”
“We need to convey the passage of a single day, from sunrise to sunset, right? You should also consider how to use wallpaper or fabric on set to control texture changes depending on the angle and intensity of the light.”
“The color temperature will need to shift subtly… can we capture that level of detail?”
“Of course. Adjusting for that is easy. With today’s LED technology, we can simulate lightning or weather effects without issue.”

The lighting director, though quiet and reserved, was meticulous and deeply responsible. Once he grasped the essence of a scene, he always found a way to visually represent the world of the script. Ha Pilsung didn’t need to intervene. Moreover, his synergy with the cinematographer was remarkable.

“We’ve shot over 200 days together in a single year before. We’ve worked together since our assistant days—honestly, I see him more than my own family. It’s almost creepy, really.”

The cinematographer ensured that Ha Pilsung could focus solely on directing by managing the set and constantly offering brilliant ideas.

“For this shot, I framed it tighter than a bust shot. It feels more intense, doesn’t it? When they exchange glances, the camera can switch to this side. Lighting director, if we bounce a reflector here, the eye light will pop more.”
“That’s great. For the earlier dialogue, I’d prefer if Yeonsu’s expression wasn’t entirely visible. Can we obscure it naturally?”
“Let’s adjust the angle slightly and redirect the key light toward Minwook. Would that work, Lighting Director?”

Despite his casual tone off-set, the cinematographer was astonishingly professional and assertive when it came to his craft. From pre-production to the shoot, his reliability never wavered.

*****

7:00 AM. Staff call time.

Each team assembled to survey the set. The lighting team was especially busy. While they had done preliminary setups the day before, adjustments and corrections were inevitable based on the day’s conditions.

The large lights, many weighing over 18 kilograms, required three or four people to move them carefully.

“Reposition the stand! The direction is off!”
“There’s a tree and some rocks here—it’s hard to level it.”
“Can we power up the generator?”
“Not yet. We’re still connecting!”
“This angle isn’t working at all. Should we swap the Ari for a Joker?”
“The Joker won’t be bright enough. Pull it as close as you can!”
“Director Lee! Can you check the camera angles?”

By 7:30 AM, the actors began arriving.

“Lee Jaehyun is here!”
“Kang Jooyeon has arrived!”
“Extras, please proceed to the makeup bus!”

The actors, sensing the energy on set, moved to the makeup bus with slightly tense expressions. It took about an hour to complete their makeup, hair, and costumes. In the meantime, the lighting and camera setups were finalized.

“Let’s position the Skypanel outside that window.”
“Some clutter is visible outside the window—won’t that look messy on a big screen?”
“Let’s white it out. Get a 12-foot panel!”

With the final details in place, Ha Pilsung stepped into the director’s chair. But then—

‘Did he not sleep well? Why does he look so zoned out?’

Although the set was running smoothly, Ha Pilsung’s face was blank and dazed.

‘Is he just nervous? Even though it’s the first shoot?’

As Youngkwang tilted his head in confusion, Ha Pilsung suddenly climbed onto a folding chair and raised his voice.

“I’m Ha Pilsung, a rookie commercial film director! I’ve spent my career so far shooting nothing but erotic films, so this is my first foray into mainstream cinema. I’m honored to work with such brilliant and talented staff and actors. In the past, my sets were plagued by accidents left and right, and I barely managed to get through it all. But today, everything is perfectly prepared. I’m deeply grateful. Let’s carry this energy through to the end of today. Thank you, everyone!”

Ha Pilsung, with a trembling voice, formally announced the start of filming to the entire staff.

Clap, clap, clap. Encouraging applause rippled across the set.

“The first scene is set the morning after the protagonists’ intense first meeting. If you check the script, you’ll see a flashback to the major incident that occurred the previous night. That flashback will be shot after the third filming session. Today, we’re skipping that event and jumping straight to the following morning’s scene. Actors, please come over to confirm your movements, and let’s begin a quick rehearsal.”

Though his explanation was somewhat rambling, both the actors and staff had thoroughly internalized Ha Pilsung’s script. They understood perfectly what he was trying to convey.

‘Let’s observe a bit more.’

Youngkwang stepped back a few paces, watching the set unfold.

The storyboard had been reviewed countless times. Ha Pilsung’s personal copy was so worn it looked like it could double as toilet paper in an emergency.

The camera and lights were placed exactly as the storyboard demanded. Rehearsals commenced.

*****

300 Days After We Break Up

The previous night, Minwook, the male protagonist, had fallen in love at first sight with Ha Yeonsu, a woman his friend Kyungsoo had brought to a drinking party.

Kyungsoo was engaged to his girlfriend of seven years and was set to marry her soon. However, he had developed an interest in Yeonsu, whom he recently met as a business contact, and was making moves on her.

“Tonight, I’m sealing the deal.”

Kyungsoo, convinced that Yeonsu had some interest in him, planned to confess his feelings with an expensive gift and spend the night with her.

Yeonsu accepted Kyungsoo’s gift and his confession with an ambiguous smile. But while Kyungsoo stepped away to use the restroom, a drunken Minwook dropped a bombshell.

“That guy has a fiancée. He’s not going to break off his engagement either.”

“Oh, really?”

Yeonsu’s reaction was utterly nonchalant, leaving Minwook flustered.

“But aren’t you two friends?”

“Huh?”

Yeonsu smirked, then asked why Minwook had revealed Kyungsoo’s secret.

“Did you think I didn’t know? Were you trying to help me? Or… is there another reason?”

Her piercing gaze met Minwook’s. He tried to look away, but before he could—

“You’re buying the next round. You ruined the mood, so it’s on you.”

With this audacious statement, Yeonsu proposed that they leave together.

The next morning, the two woke up in Minwook’s home.

Seemingly indifferent to Minwook’s feelings, Yeonsu casually prepared for her day—washing up, drinking coffee, and saying goodbye with a breezy promise to meet again.

Today’s shoot focused on this scene: the stark contrast between the two protagonists’ behavior upon waking up.

While Minwook, having been captivated by Yeonsu the night before, found his feelings for her growing, Yeonsu’s emotions remained inscrutable. Acting as though nothing was out of the ordinary, she delivered a cool farewell before leaving.

It was only after Yeonsu exited through the front door that Minwook realized two things: he didn’t have her contact information, and it was Saturday, a day when most people didn’t go to work.

Would Minwook ever see Yeonsu again?

He couldn’t ask Kyungsoo for her contact information, nor did he know anything personal about her. Without fate’s intervention, their paths would likely never cross again.

Feeling defeated, Minwook slumped onto his bed, staring at the chaos of his room—a mess mirroring his tangled emotions.

Raindrops began to tap against the window.

What was this storm of confused feelings he found himself in after just one night?

Hours passed as Minwook sat motionless, listening to the rain and reflecting on the previous night. His phone rang several times, but he ignored it.

By evening, the camera revealed the source of the missed calls: messages from Minwook’s girlfriend.

“Honey, is something wrong?”
“Are you sleeping? Are you sick?”
“We’re still meeting tomorrow, right?”

“Bastard.”

At this moment, the audience would feel the intended betrayal and shock. Ha Pilsung’s purpose for this scene was clear.

Minwook, who had intervened to disrupt Kyungsoo’s attempt to cheat on his fiancée, turned out to have a long-term girlfriend himself. Like Kyungsoo, who couldn’t break things off with his fiancée, Minwook was also unable to end things with his loyal and devoted girlfriend.

Had time passed without incident, Minwook might have managed to sort out his feelings eventually.

But then—bang, bang, bang!

That night, Yeonsu unexpectedly knocked on Minwook’s door. Overwhelmed by jealousy, obsession, and a twisted tangle of emotions, their mutual attraction deepened into something inescapable.

The scene set in Minwook’s house was designed to encapsulate the protagonists’ psychological states in a concise yet impactful way. Lighting conveyed the passage of time from day to night, while the camera focused intently on capturing even the subtlest facial expressions of the characters.

The actors rehearsed, checking their movements, but something about Lee Jaehyun, the male lead’s expression, seemed off.

“Director,” Lee Jaehyun said hesitantly, “when Yeonsu moves around, isn’t my gaze coming off too blatant?”

“What? Why is that?”

“The angles don’t work from this position. I want to take in her overall movements, but standing here, my eyes keep getting stuck on specific parts.”

“Hold on. Let me check the camera angles.”

Ha Pilsung carefully watched the monitor, checking the movements of both Lee Jaehyun and Kang Jooyeon.

Lee Jaehyun was right. The close distance between the two actors made eye-line coordination awkward.

Ha Pilsung glanced around the set.

Lights and cameras had been meticulously positioned according to the storyboard, leaving little room for error. What had he missed?

“Lighting Director! Can we soften the characters’ eye-lines a bit?”
“Cinematographer! What if we go handheld for this shot and widen the distance between the actors?”

True to his reputation for quick thinking, Ha Pilsung proposed adjustments and began orchestrating changes on the fly.

However…

“Hmm. I’m not sure about this,” Lee Jaehyun muttered, still looking unconvinced.

Ha Pilsung wiped the sweat beading on his forehead and scanned through his worn-out storyboard again. The cinematographer and lighting director exchanged discreet glances.

Youngkwang sighed softly.

There was no need to stubbornly stick to this setup.

On a film set rife with variables, perfection in setup, team, and execution simply doesn’t exist. There’s only direction and adaptability.

Realizing he needed to step in, Youngkwang called out gently.

“Director Ha.”

Ha Pilsung looked up as Youngkwang gestured for him to step aside.

“Let’s have a smoke while things get sorted out.”

Looking at the staff bustling around, Ha Pilsung, who clearly needed a cigarette, nodded quickly.

Away from the commotion, Youngkwang lit his cigarette and spoke bluntly.

“Don’t panic.”

“Panic? Me? I’m not panicking. What am I, ramen in hot water?”

“These are top-tier teams. They’re the best at what they do. Trust them. And if something feels off, it’s okay to rethink everything from scratch. It’s better than ripping your hair out in the editing room later.”

“It’s not that big a deal. Post-production will handle most of it just fine.”

“Sure, the cinematographer can shoot plenty of coverage, but do you think every one of those shots will perfectly align with what you want?”

“We’re running out of time. We’re not just shooting the set; we’ve got the sunset scene to capture today. If we fall behind now, we’ll never make it.”

“Do you even know what the real issue is?”

Youngkwang’s sharp question cut through Ha Pilsung’s anxiety.

“What? What’s the issue?”

“Why are you letting the storyboard dictate everything?”

“Excuse me?”

“Have you ever followed a storyboard perfectly in any of your shoots?”

“Well, no, but—”

Ha Pilsung looked as if he had just been struck by a hammer.