Glory Film Company

Episode 45: The Power of Sound (Part 2)

The sound recorded on set usually focuses on the actors’ dialogue, leaving subtle ambient noises distorted or missing. This is why adding sound effects during post-production is crucial.

The practice began in the 1930s in Hollywood, pioneered by Jack Foley. His techniques were so revolutionary and ingenious that sound effect creators have since been called “Foley artists” in his honor.

The term “artist” reflects the creativity required for this work, as it relies on imaginative ideas to craft the sounds.

Foley work constitutes about 80% of a film’s soundscape, making its importance self-evident. However, despite its significance, Foley artists are notoriously underpaid, making it a profession in urgent need of better compensation.

In Korea, the number of well-known Foley artists is likely fewer than ten.

Sound supervisor Jung Yeoul had almost certainly reached out to all of them through her network. If none were available, this meant renegotiating conditions or finding new talent through other avenues.

Youngkwang, however, was confident that he had found the perfect person for the job.

“Wait, so the person you liked was me?”
“Are you pretending not to know? I even gave you gifts several times!”
“When? I didn’t notice at all.”

The first video in Do Junyoung’s portfolio was a melodrama.

Two people sat in a pojangmacha, deep in conversation. The background noises—the hum of chatter, the clinking of glasses—blended seamlessly. When the actors leaned in toward each other, the sound of fabric crinkling, chairs squeaking, and dry lips smacking nervously was crisp and lifelike.

The distinct “pop” of a glass being set down, the squeak of the surface it touched, and the slurping and chewing sounds made the food look and sound incredibly appetizing.

Even the footsteps of the male and female leads were distinct—his were heavy and deliberate, while hers were light and tidy.

The second video was a dog-themed commercial.

Pant, pant, pant.

The dog’s heavy breathing and whimpering as it ran were perfectly synchronized with the visuals. The rhythm of its paws tapping the ground created a cheerful sense of urgency.

Boom! Crash! Screeeech…
“Ricky! Over here!”
“They’re closing in!”
“We have to abandon the supplies. Saving the people comes first!”

An animation set in a post-apocalyptic world followed. AI had taken over the planet, and the remnants of humanity lived underground. The mechanical sounds of battle and explosions were grand yet refined, creating an elevated sense of realism and sophistication.

The portfolio spanned various genres, but overall, Do Junyoung’s strengths lay in everyday sounds, with a refreshing touch in action scenes.

Youngkwang concluded that Junyoung would be a perfect fit for 300 Days After We Break Up. His curiosity was also piqued by the techniques and insights Junyoung had scribbled in his notebook during their chance late-night encounter.

Youngkwang forwarded Junyoung’s email to sound supervisor Jung Yeoul and director Ha Pilsung, hoping they would also appreciate his discovery.

However, convincing them proved to be a challenge.

“Where did you find this guy?”

After reviewing the email, Ha Pilsung called immediately.

“How is it? Does he seem promising?”

“Not bad. The portfolio is decent for sure.”

“He’s worked on about ten films, none of them major. Most of his experience is in dramas and commercials.”

“So what? If he has good instincts, that’s all that matters. My requirements are simple: I want the sounds in the protagonist’s kiss scene and the flashback bed scene to feel authentic. And for the scene where Minwook goes to the bathroom after the bus accident—I want the sound to feel raw and desperate. Too much?”

“I understand exactly what you mean. I’ll discuss it with the sound supervisor.”

“Sure. But why are we changing Foley artists in the first place?”

“It seems the original artist had personal circumstances come up. Other candidates’ schedules didn’t align.”

“Well, there aren’t many people in this field to begin with.”

“Yes, Do Junyoung’s experience is a bit short, but his skills seem solid. Our film relies heavily on capturing the emotional tension between the main leads, and I think he’s capable of delivering those heart-fluttering, nerve-wracking moments.”

“Haha. Sounds like you’re really sold on him. There must be a reason for that, right?”

Ha Pilsung sounded intrigued, but Youngkwang, still relying mostly on instinct, chose to divert the conversation.

“Director, you’re working on dialogue editing again today, right?”

“That’s right. Another all-nighter with the editor.”

“Make sure to keep an eye on overtime. Things aren’t like they used to be.”

“Ha! You’re talking like you know what it was like back in the day. Speaking of which, back in my day—”

“Oh, I’m getting another call. Let’s talk about it later, Director.”

“Oh? Ah… okay!”

The call abruptly ended.

Back in the day? Even if he knew, Youngkwang had no reason to hear Ha Pilsung’s stories about the past—especially not now.

He absentmindedly hung up and immediately dialed Jung Yeoul, the sound supervisor.

“Is this a good time to talk?”

“Ah, I was just about to call you.”

“You’ve seen the email I sent, right?”

“Yes, I did. But…”

Unlike Ha Pilsung’s enthusiasm, there was hesitation in Jung Yeoul’s tone. She clearly had something on her mind.

“Someone at this level isn’t hard to find.”

“What do you mean?”

“What I mean is, the people I mentioned before were veterans with 20 to 30 years of experience. If you’re okay with someone with only three years of experience, we know a few others as well.”

Youngkwang paused for a moment.

Though he hadn’t known her for long, he understood that Jung Yeoul wasn’t the type to play politics or insist on control. Still, she wasn’t one to compromise her professional pride either. Her hesitation likely stemmed from a valid concern, and he decided to dig deeper.

“We’re not looking for someone based on their years of experience, are we? Skill comes first.”

“Of course, that’s true.”

“Then how about this: Director Ha Pilsung specifically wants extra focus on the kiss scene, the flashback bed scene, and the bathroom scene at the rest stop.”

“Uh… yes.”

“Why don’t we test him with those scenes?”

“Test him?”

“You’re hesitant about bringing in someone unproven, right?”

“Haha. You’ve got me. It’s about compatibility and trust.”

“Compatibility comes down to skill. If he’s skilled, we’ll find a way to make it work.”

“You’re not wrong. But is he really that impressive?”

“I’m not sure yet. I just had a good feeling about him. That’s why we should verify it.”

“Does the timeline work?”

“That’s another thing I wanted to check. He mentioned he could only take on projects that could be completed within four months. But since our post-production is already underway, that shouldn’t be an issue, right?”

“Not at all. Dialogue and music will be wrapped up in a month or two. Foley usually takes six to seven weeks, so it should work out fine.”

“Great. I’ll check if he’s open to producing samples for a test.”

After wrapping up the calls, Youngkwang gathered his thoughts and sent a message to Do Junyoung, explaining the situation. He proposed that Junyoung prepare samples for a test, assuring him that they’d accommodate his conditions in return.

****

“Would it be possible to get a few of the props used during filming?”

A few days later, sound supervisor Jung Yeoul, director Ha Pilsung, producer Lee Youngkwang, and Foley artist Do Junyoung gathered for a brief meeting to discuss the test scenes and ensure everyone had a shared understanding of the project. Having meticulously reviewed the edited footage beforehand, Do Junyoung brought up several requests.

“I’ll check on that. What exactly do you need?”

“I’ve made a list,” he said, handing over a note. “There were some distinctive costumes and shoes in the footage. I’d also like to examine the props that Minwook was carrying around.”

“If you hand it over, I’ll send it to the art team and have them arrange it,” Youngkwang replied.

Taking a picture of the note, Youngkwang immediately sent it to the art team with a request.

“There’s also something I was curious about in the script,” Junyoung continued. “In this scene here, the actor’s emotions feel very layered.”

“Layered?”

“Yes. While their voice conveys anger, I thought the other sounds might lean toward a more melancholy tone. It’s one of those moments where the outer emotion doesn’t match the inner feelings. But I think it’s best to get the director’s opinion on this.”

“Oh, that’s an excellent observation. But can you convey melancholy through movement sounds?”

“Footsteps, for instance, can differ depending on the character. It’s tricky, but I have a few ideas.”

“Hmm, intriguing.”

Junyoung, in his early thirties and three years into his career as a Foley artist, showed a clear depth of understanding. While the number of projects he’d worked on mattered, his approach to the work exuded a sense of reliability and confidence.

“If his notebook is anything to go by, there’s nothing to worry about,” thought Youngkwang, nodding internally.

Junyoung’s notebook, glimpsed briefly during their previous meeting, contained detailed techniques for expressing emotions through sound. It addressed how footsteps alone could reflect a character’s personality, mood, age, or gender, much like the legendary Jack Foley, who had redefined sound design.

The notebook wasn’t just about replicating everyday sounds like rain, eating, or walking—it was about taking sound to another level of storytelling. The insights were fascinating and raised curiosity about the extent of his research and artistry.

After asking his fill of questions, Junyoung excused himself and left.

“He doesn’t seem like a bad person. We’ll need more time to assess, though,” Jung Yeoul commented.

“He’s got a sharp eye for the script. His questions were insightful, almost like he’d been part of the planning process from the start,” added Ha Pilsung.

Both seemed to have a favorable first impression, nodding in agreement.

A few days later, Junyoung reached out again.

“I’m planning to book a studio I’m familiar with. Would you like to observe the process?”

The offer was a welcome one—Youngkwang had been about to make the same request.

“Yes, if it’s not an inconvenience, I’d love to see the process firsthand.”

“Great. I’ll send you the address, date, and time. Also, I’d like to work with a recordist I’ve collaborated with before. If we proceed further, I’d prefer to continue working with them throughout.”

The fact that Junyoung had already secured both a trusted partner and an optimal location spoke volumes about his preparedness. There was no reason to object.

“Of course. I’ll see you on the day, then.”

Moments after the call, a message arrived with the location and recording schedule for the Foley booth.

“I really like how this guy works,” thought Youngkwang, impressed by the efficiency.

He quickly forwarded the details to Ha Pilsung and Jung Yeoul, both of whom had made it clear they wanted to attend.

Finally, the agreed-upon recording day arrived.