Tokyo: My Best Actor Gear List

Chapter 25 The Mad Dog's Eyes

May 1989, Nerima Ward.

Toei Oizumi Studio.

The atmosphere here is completely different from the serious and somber atmosphere of NHK.

The place was filled with the smell of tobacco, sweat, and an almost savage energy.

As the headquarters of Japanese "yakuza films" (gangster films), the corridors are filled with extras with buzz cuts and wearing floral shirts, and you can even see a few gangsters who have come to "visit the set".

Outside the fourth audition room.

The atmosphere in the corridor was extremely oppressive.

"Get out! Is this your portrayal of a gangster? That's a clown! A bluffing thug!"

A furious roar came from under the door, followed by the sound of a script being slammed to the ground.

A few seconds later, a stuntman who was somewhat famous on television walked out looking disheveled and red-faced, clearly having been severely scolded.

In the waiting area, the remaining actors looked at each other, all swallowing hard.

Sitting inside is Kinji Fukasaku.

This director, known as the "godfather of violent aesthetics," has a temper as fiery as his films.

What he hates most is actors' "acting"—especially the stereotypical acting style of frowning and yelling.

"Next, Ota Office, Kitahara Shin."

"The casting assistant shouted, his tone devoid of much hope."

Kitahara Shin stood up.

He was wearing the black fitted suit he bought in Kabukicho, with his white shirt collar open, and instead of holding a script, he was clutching a pair of black leather gloves.

He straightened his clothes and calmly pushed open the door to enter.

……

The audition room was filled with smoke.

Kinji Fukasaku, wearing a director's vest with many pockets, sunglasses, and a cigarette dangling from his mouth, was impatiently tapping his fingers on the table.

The producer and several assistant directors sitting next to him also looked exhausted.

"Kitahara Shin?" Fukasaku Kinji glanced at the resume, his brows furrowing even more. "A Taiga drama actor? I need a villain, not some samurai sitting there drinking tea. Can you kill someone?"

This question is offensive, even insulting.

Kitahara Shin was neither angry nor in a hurry to defend himself.

He simply bowed slightly and said politely, "Director Fukasaku, I've read the script. As for the character 'Sawada,' I'd like to try acting out a scene according to my own understanding."

"Whatever." Kinji Fukasaku waved his hand impatiently. "Give it to me or keep it to yourself. Save some time, three minutes."

Kitahara Shin turned around and looked at a young assistant director who was in charge of acting with him.

The assistant director stood up, holding a receipt for a prop in his hand, looking somewhat nonchalant.

After all, so many "fierce and menacing" actors had been driven away, and he didn't think this handsome, refined-looking guy could play the "mad dog" well.

Kitahara Shin took a deep breath.

Instead of starting the performance immediately, he lowered his head.

[Equipment: Black leather gloves worn by a debt collector]

[Special Effect Activation: Elegant Execution]

He slowly slipped his left hand into the glove, then his right.

The black leather wrapped around the slender fingers, making a slight "sizzling" friction sound.

He lowered his head, carefully smoothing out every wrinkle on his gloves, his movements as elegant as if he were preparing for a dinner party.

But in that instant, the air in the audition room seemed to freeze.

Shinji Fukasaku stopped tapping his fingers on the table.

He keenly sensed that the young man's demeanor had changed.

Just moments ago he was a gentle and refined junior, but now he exudes a chilling aura that makes people feel uncomfortable all over.

Kitahara Shin raised his head.

There was no anger or murderous intent in those eyes, only a chilling emptiness and... a smile.

He walked toward the assistant director.

The footsteps were very light, almost silent.

The assistant director instinctively sensed danger and subconsciously wanted to back away, but found his legs were a little weak.

Kitahara Shin walked up to him and stopped.

The two were so close that they could hear each other breathing.

Unlike the previous actors, he didn't grab their collars, slap them, or yell at them.

Kitahara Shin simply extended his hand, which was wearing a black leather glove, and gently and tenderly straightened the assistant director's slightly crooked tie.

That action was like arranging a burial garment for a dead person.

The assistant director felt a chill run down his spine.

He watched the black gloves dart around his neck, and only one thought crossed his mind: he was going to strangle him.

"I heard..."

Kitahara Shin spoke.

The voice was very soft, with a hint of a lover's murmur, yet it was as cold as the wind in an ice cellar.

He tilted his head slightly, his lifeless eyes staring intently into the assistant director's pupils.

"Are you trying to renege on your debt?"

boom!

The assistant director's mind went completely blank.

That wasn't just acting; it was a kind of fear stemming from a biological instinct.

He felt like he wasn't facing an actor, but a madman who would laugh and shove a pen into his eyeball at any moment.

"I...I didn't..."

The assistant director stammered a reply, and the prop IOU he was holding fell to the ground with a "thud".

His legs went weak, and he plopped down on the chair behind him, his back instantly soaked with cold sweat.

The entire room fell silent.

Kitahara Shin did not break character because of the other party's loss of composure.

He maintained that smile, bent down, picked up the paper from the ground with his gloved fingers, gently patted off the dust, and then placed it on the assistant director's trembling knees.

"That's right."

He said softly, "Don't get your clothes dirty, they're hard to wash."

After saying that, he straightened up, slowly took off his gloves, and the cold aura on his face instantly disappeared, transforming him back into the polite young man.

"I've made a fool of myself, director."

Kitahara Shin turned around and bowed slightly to Fukasaku Kinji.

"..."

Kinji Fukasaku remained silent.

The cigarette in his mouth had long since burned down to the butt and burned his lips, but he seemed completely unaware.

A few seconds later.

"Snapped!"

Fukasaku Kinji slammed his hand on the table and stood up abruptly, so hard that the teacups on the table were overturned.

"This is it!"

The hot-tempered director took off his sunglasses, revealing a startling glint in his somewhat cloudy eyes. Pointing at Kitahara Shin, he roared, "That's the look I want! Not a beast roaring, but a demon smiling! That's 'Mad Dog'!"

He excitedly walked around the table to stand in front of Kitahara Shin, looking him up and down as if he were a rough, unpolished piece of jade.

"Who designed that gesture of putting on gloves you just now?"

"It's me," Kitahara Shin replied. "I think the character Sawada is a person with obsessive-compulsive disorder. For him, violence is not a way to vent, but a job. When he's working, he has to be hygienic."

"Great! That's very hygienic!"

Kinji Fukasaku burst into laughter, then turned to the still-shocked producer and shouted, "Give me the script! Sawada's role is too small, I want more! Expand the scene where he kills someone in the rain! And where's the costume designer? From now on, this kid's look will be exactly like today's, especially those gloves, weld them onto his hands!"

The producer wiped his sweat and quickly nodded to take notes.

The assistant director, who had been slumped in his chair, finally came to his senses, his eyes still filled with lingering fear as he looked at Kitahara Shin.

Kitahara Shin squeezed the leather gloves in his hands, feeling the lingering coolness on his palms.

"Kitahara, right?" Fukasaku Kinji patted his shoulder hard. "You'll be joining the crew next week. Be prepared. My film set is hell. If you can't portray this feeling, I'll still kick you out."

"Yes, Director."