mijobooks Chapter 182 Undercurrents! Helping out my good brother Takeshi Kitano!
Chapter 182 Undercurrents! Helping out my good brother Takeshi Kitano!
Chapter 182 Undercurrents! Give my good brother Takeshi Kitano a helping hand!
The morning light of early spring shone through the gaps in the curtains of the apartment in the port area, falling on the messy bed.
Kitahara Shin opened his eyes.
There was no hangover headache, nor the exhaustion of staying up all night. On the contrary, an unprecedented surge of energy filled my limbs and bones, as if every cell in my body was cheering with joy.
He sat up and glanced at the two women who were still fast asleep. Quanshui's long hair was scattered on the pillow, and her breathing was deep and even.
Akina curled up in the blankets like a cat, revealing a section of her fair shoulder.
This scene is beautiful.
Kitahara Shin gently lifted the covers and got out of bed, glancing at the equipment inventory with a slight thought.
[Equipment: Ring of Life (Purple - Passive) in effect]
[Effect: Significantly enhances the host's energy recovery speed, physical strength limit, and body self-healing ability. Peak performance can be maintained as long as minimal sleep is ensured.]
After a good night's sleep last night, he feels refreshed and even able to run five kilometers.
He quickly washed up, left two heated breakfasts and a note in the kitchen, then changed into a suit and quietly left the house.
Inside the elevator, Kitahara Shin straightened his tie, looking at his energetic self in the mirror, his eyes gradually sharpening.
The land of gentle pleasures is a hero's home, but it's also a refueling station.
Now, he is not only an actor who has won Best Actor awards, but also the helmsman of a vast business empire. Last night's tenderness was a spice in life, but pushing open this door reveals a battlefield of fierce competition.
Nine o'clock in the morning, Roppongi, Kitahara Office.
The atmosphere in the president's office was somewhat heavy.
"President, something's not right."
Ota Masakazu placed several documents on the table, his face grim and his brows furrowed, clearly overwhelmed by the situation: "This week, several film projects we had secured for the newcomers have all fallen through."
Kitahara Shin sat in the boss's chair, not in a hurry to look through the documents, but instead picked up his coffee and took a sip: "What's the reason?"
"Various kinds of things"
Ota wiped the sweat from his brow. "Shochiku said the script has been revised, and that supporting role has been canceled; Toei said Hirosue Ryo..."
The image and role of the actor did not match, so they replaced him with a newcomer they had trained themselves. There was also an independent production company that was about to sign a contract, but suddenly said that there were problems with the funding chain, and the project was put on hold.
"If it were just one or two projects, it could be considered a coincidence. But this involves five or six projects running into problems at the same time."
Da Tian lowered his voice, a hint of anger in it: "And I inquired about it, and that project supposedly had problems with its funding chain immediately signed with Burning."
"A minor actor in our department is starting filming tomorrow."
Kitahara Shin put down his coffee cup and tapped his fingers lightly on the mahogany tabletop.
"They're after me."
It wasn't just aimed at him, but at the entire Kitahara Office.
"But President, you just won Best Actor, and your popularity is soaring right now. Who would dare to mess with you at this crucial moment?" Da Tian asked, puzzled.
Kitahara Shin smiled, but the smile didn't reach his eyes.
"It's precisely because he won the Best Actor award that he threatened other people's interests."
The image of the awards ceremony that night flashed through his mind: those old fogies with livid faces, and the veteran actor Akira Nishimura, who thought he had the victory in the bag but ended up going home empty-handed.
The Japanese film industry and the television industry are two separate circles.
The television industry values ratings and commercial interests, and is relatively more straightforward—as long as you can make money, you're the boss.
But the film industry is different.
The power here is held by the so-called "Big Three" (Toho, Toei, and Shochiku). They control production,
Distribution and theaters. This is a closed, hierarchical ecosystem that emphasizes seniority.
Kitahara Shin, a "television actor," won the Best Actor award, and it was through Yoshinaga Sayuri's influence that the award, which had already been divided up internally, was disrupted. This was a blatant slap in the face for those old men who valued face more than life itself.
They can't touch Kitahara Shin.
The current Kitahara Shin is a ratings legend, Yoshinaga Sayuri's partner, and a capitalist with billions of yen in assets.
So they turned their knives on the new recruits at Kitahara's office.
"This tactic is called 'killing the chicken to scare the monkey,' it's also about setting rules."
Kitahara Shin picked up the returned list, looking calmly at the names of Hirosue Ryoko, Kuboya Yosuke, and others.
"Their logic is simple: the trophies are for your prestige, but to make money in the film industry, you have to listen to us. If you don't come to pay your respects and admit your mistakes, your subordinates can forget about making it in the film industry."
They only make things difficult for minor characters.
This tactic, though underhanded, is very effective. For newcomers just starting out, every opportunity to gain exposure is crucial.
"Then—what do we do?"
Da Tian felt a little frustrated. "Do I really have to go visit those old men? Bring them some gifts?"
"A gift?"
Kitahara Shin scoffed and tossed the document into the trash can: "Two years ago, perhaps I would have considered this amicable way of making money. But now—"
He stood up, walked to the huge floor-to-ceiling window, and looked down at Tokyo below.
"In this circle, weakness won't earn you respect, it will only earn you more demanding treatment."
Those old guys think they can strangle him by blocking distribution channels and character resources?
too naive.
"Since they don't want our people to act in their films, then we'll make our own."
Kitahara Shin turned around and gave the order: "Notify the First Production Department to immediately initiate the talent recruitment plan."
"I don't want executive producers who just follow orders, nor do I want old-fashioned screenwriters who only write romantic tales. Find me ambitious young people who want to make money but are frustrated in this rigid system."
"Screenwriters, directors, editors, lighting technicians—as long as they have talent, whether they come from AV production or are starving making independent films, poach them all."
Ota paused for a moment: "President, you mean—to manufacture everything in-house?"
"right."
Kitahara Shin walked to the map and drew a circle on it with his finger: "The Flowers of Evil is just the beginning. It's the brand we want to build," a flagship store to win awards and earn a good reputation. But a flagship store alone is not enough; we also need a large number of chain stores.
"From now on, the firm's projects will be divided into two categories."
He held up two fingers: "The first category is high-quality dramas. Like 'Flower of Evil,' I personally oversaw their production; we used them to promote top-tier shows and establish our industry standing."
.
"The second category is commercial dramas. They don't need to be profound, as long as they're entertaining, exciting, and appeal to the general public. Whether it's campus romance, action comedy, or horror, we'll cram all the newcomers we recruit into them and win by sheer quantity."
This was an extremely advanced concept in the Japanese entertainment industry in 1993.
At the time, most talent agencies only handled artist management, with production mainly handled by television stations and film companies. But what Kitahara Shin wanted to do was a Hollywood-style hybrid of "production studio + talent agency".
"As for those old men—"
Kitahara Shin's eyes turned cold: "Since they like playing the blacklist game, then I'll show them who's blacklisting whom."
at the same time.
Ginza, a hidden high-class restaurant.
The private room was filled with smoke.
Several elderly people dressed in kimonos with gray hair were kneeling on the tatami mats, holding sake in their hands.
One of them was a veteran producer who looked the worst at the awards ceremony that day. He was one of the "Big Three" producers.
One of the top executives controls the scheduling rights for dozens of cinemas.
"Hmph, that Kitahara Shin hasn't been making any moves lately."
The old man took a sip of his drink, a hint of smug drunkenness on his face: "I heard that young lady from his agency, named Hirosue something, got rejected by Toei? That makes sense. Young people don't know the rules; they think they can fly just because they won an award."
"yes."
Another old man chimed in, "We're giving Yoshinaga face by protecting him. But this kid's overreaching. The film industry has its own rules; it's not like a TV star like him can just jump in and grab a piece of the pie."
In their view, this was just a small lesson.
If Kitahara Shin is sensible enough to visit them with gifts to apologize and acknowledge their "master" status, they will be merciful enough to spare some resources for the young people.
After all, this has been the "order" that has remained unchanged for decades.
however.
They never expected that the young man wouldn't follow their script at all. Not only did he not come to pay his respects, but he was actually plotting to overturn the whole table.
Back in my office in Roppongi.
Kitahara Shin is planning his next strategic move on the whiteboard.
Although he spoke toughly, vowing to stand up to those old fogies to the bitter end, he knew very well that the current situation was not optimistic. Fuji Television, while a good partner, was far too greedy.
"A 25% viewership bet —"
Kitahara Shin frowned slightly as he looked at the number.
Fuji TV's strategy is to "only create blockbuster hits." They are willing to invest heavily, but also demand extremely high returns. This results in many medium-sized projects that can generate stable profits failing to pass review. This does not align with Kitahara's upcoming "expansion strategy."
If we want to promote so many new talents under our management, one or two hit dramas a year are not enough. We need a large number of mid-tier productions to help them gain recognition and hone their acting skills.
"We need to find a new way out."
Kitahara Shin casually picked up a copy of the Tokyo Sports newspaper from the table.
He had only wanted to see what gossip was going on, but a news item in the corner of the page caught his attention.
Beat Takeshi's new film is a box office flop! Is the Blue Ribbon director just a flash in the pan?
Is a comedian ultimately just a comedian? Critics question whether his directing talent has run its course.
Upon seeing these glaring headlines, Kitahara Shin stopped moving.
Takeshi Kitano.
This name holds special significance for him. Back then, it was Takeshi Kitano who overruled objections and cast him, a newcomer, in "Violent Cop." That film not only won the Blue Ribbon Award but also truly cemented Kitahara's name in the industry.
At that time, Takeshi Kitano was at the height of his fame and was hailed as a genius.
But now?
Just because his later films, "March 41" and "A Quiet Sea," failed at the box office, those media outlets and critics who had once praised him to the skies immediately turned their backs on him.
"What a cruel industry!"
Kitahara Shin sneered and threw the newspaper on the table.
This is the norm in the entertainment industry. No matter how great you were before, no matter what awards you've won, as soon as you make one or two bad movies, or stop making money, everyone will immediately start criticizing you. They'll question your talent, ridicule your luck, and even attribute your past success to "blind luck."
Takeshi Kitano is currently in a low period where everyone is kicking him while he's down.
But when he saw the photo in the newspaper—a face expressionless yet fierce-looking one—Kitahara Shin smiled.
He knew this man too well.
The more the media criticized him, the more he couldn't suppress his inherent "violence" and "rebellious spirit." This suppressed madness is precisely what is most scarce in today's world.
"Ota."
Kitahara Shin stopped the vice president, who was about to leave on business, and pointed to the photo in the newspaper: "We don't need to look for anyone else. I think we've found the best partner."
Ota leaned closer to take a look, paused for a moment, and then showed a look of realization: "Kitano-san—indeed, I heard he's been having a lot of trouble lately. Despite his immense talent, he's been getting a lot of flak from those film critics."
"They're blind."
Kitahara Shin stood up, walked to the window, and said with a certainty in his voice, "They only see box office poison, but I see a gold mine. In this stagnant film industry controlled by those old fogies, only a madman like him can help us overturn the table."
As Ota looked at Kitahara Shin's ambitious back, the scene of filming "Violent Man" couldn't help but come to mind.
That kind of crazy, unscripted behavior, that kind of raw, realistic action, that kind of fierce, protective spirit while cursing on set.
"yes----"
Ota couldn't help but laugh, a hint of nostalgia flashing in his eyes: "If it's him, he truly is our best partner. That crazy vibe—it's exactly the same as yours, President."
"Go and contact him."
Kitahara Shin turned around, his eyes blazing: "Tell him that no matter what others think, Kitahara Agency is willing to go crazy with him one more time. As long as he dares to film, I dare to invest."
", Akasaka, Kitano Office.
The ashtray was already overflowing with Seven Stars cigarette butts.
Takeshi Kitano slumped on the sofa, half his face hidden in the smoke, his eyes fixed on the returned proposal on the table with a somewhat gloomy expression.
Although his previous film, *Violent Cop*, won him an award and made him a star, what happened after that—
awful.
It's too awful.
"March-April" was a box office flop, and "A Quiet Summer" was critically acclaimed but commercially unsuccessful. Now, film companies shake their heads at the mere mention of his name, calling him "box office poison" and saying his movies are "too violent, too strange, and nobody watches them."
Even that Blue Ribbon Award for Best Director now looks like a joke sitting in a cabinet. Without money, without investment, no matter how talented you are, you can only sit here smoking in silence.
"Ring ring—"
'
The phone on the table suddenly rang.
Takeshi Kitano grabbed the receiver in frustration, his tone sharp: "Hello! Who is this?"
"Director, it's been a long time. I'm Kitahara."
The voice coming from the receiver was young and steady, with a touch of long-lost familiarity.
Takeshi Kitano paused for a moment, then laughed self-deprecatingly, his voice carrying a hint of roguish arrogance: "Yo, isn't this our newly crowned Best Actor? What brings you to call a washed-up director like me? I'm a plague now, anyone who gets involved with me is doomed. Aren't you afraid of being dragged down with me?"
"The director is joking."
On the other end of the phone, Kitahara Shin's voice was unwavering, even tinged with amusement: "In my heart, there's no such thing as being washed up or not. To this day, I still feel that the time I spent filming 'The Violent Man' with you was the most enjoyable period of my acting career."
"cut."
Takeshi Kitano curled his lip, feeling a little warm inside, but still retorted, "Don't give me that. You're Sayuri Yoshinaga's partner now, someone at the top of the Japanese entertainment industry. Do you need to flatter someone like me who only has a bunch of comedians following him?"
"I'm serious."
The voice on the other end of the phone suddenly turned serious, revealing an unprecedented level of earnestness and ambition: "Director, don't you want to give those people a good slap in the face?"
"—What do you mean?"
"To those who say you only know how to make jokes, that you don't understand movies, that you're box office poison—I want to invite you to join me in building a real film empire."
Kitahara Shin paused, each word like a nail: "We need money, we need box office success, we need a film that'll be a bestseller and shut them up. If you dare to make it, I dare to invest. Let's join forces and silence their doubts. What do you think?"
Takeshi Kitano's hand holding the receiver froze.
A cinematic empire?
A blockbuster?
Breaking the doubts?
These words, like sparks, fell into his heart, which was almost cooled down, and instantly ignited a fire.
He remained silent for three seconds.
Then, he reached out and shoved the half-smoked cigarette hard into the ashtray, crushing it out forcefully.
As the smoke dissipated, a sinister smile slowly appeared on that iconic face, which had a somewhat expressionless face yet exuded a ruthless air.
That was the expression of a wild beast smelling blood.
"interesting."
Takeshi Kitano, his voice hoarse but excited, spoke into the microphone: "Kid, come on over here. Let me hear your so-called 'Empire' plan."
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