HuaYu: A Great Director Starting with Dream of the Red Chamber

The forum on "The New Wave of Chinese Cinema" at the Excelsior Hotel is now more than halfway through.

To be honest, it's pretty boring.

In addition, the lineup of this year's Chinese films is rather meager, lacking any truly eye-catching surprises.

All that was left were the few shortlisted directors on stage, who kept going back and forth between "the living conditions of marginalized people" and "the ideological connotations of Eastern aesthetics".

The conversation must also occasionally include the names of foreign masters such as "Antonioni" or "Tarkovsky".

Most of the film distributors and reporters in the audience looked numb and drowsy.

Li Yan sat in the back row, idly playing with the simultaneous interpretation device in his hand.

Until his gaze swept across the venue, he noticed a middle-aged man propping his chin up and yawning.

He was in his early thirties, with brown curly hair and a high nose bridge—a typical Jewish appearance.

The moment he saw her face, Li Yan immediately remembered.

Daniel Katz.

In two years, his name and A24 Film, which he founded, will become a top-tier and most distinctive brand in the Hollywood independent film industry.

However, for now, he is just a struggling film investment manager at Guggenheim.

"...Actually, regarding the film 'Cow,' what I want to explore is the alienation and return of humanity in the context of war."

On stage, Guan Hu's voice rang out again, interrupting Li Yan's thoughts.

"Some viewers in China criticize me for focusing the camera on ignorance and portraying farmers as wild beasts, but I believe that only by stripping away the disguise of civilization and reducing people to animals can that absurd reality be revealed."

He paused, then looked at the international film critics in the audience:

"In some ways, both sides are victims in the cruel reality of war... The wounded Japanese soldier in the film, the tacit understanding he and Niu Er developed over a cow, at that moment, they were both ants swept up by the times."

"Even the Japanese, in that moment, showed a glimmer of humanity. I believe that this kind of coexistence that transcends national borders and hatred is universal and truly humane..."

"Hold!"

Sitting next to Li Yan, Zhang Qiang couldn't help but mutter a curse under his breath:

"What the hell? So the Japanese are victims in his mouth too? Isn't this treason?! Have they no shame?!"

Li Yan's eyes also turned cold.

This is a common problem among some "cultured people," or more accurately, a wealth code!

For a few scraps of soup, they kneel at others' feet, wagging their tails and begging for mercy, wishing they could lick the soles of their shoes clean.

Not only are they stupid, they're also wicked.

They even went so far as to call it "reflection" and "profound"!

Go to hell with you...

Li Yan looked around and saw that most of the media from China were "his own people," either sycophants or people who dared not speak out for the sake of the "big picture."

Especially that guy with the Southern Media Group badge around his neck, he didn't even need to look at him to know he was the same kind of person as Guan Hu.

Relying on them? No way!

Li Yan looked around again.

To my left, there was a blonde, blue-eyed Western woman frowning as she scribbled in her notebook. Her name tag read "The Hollywood Reporter."

Like Daniel Katz, this media outlet is also part of the Guggenheim and is known for its sharp-tongued reporting and its penchant for sensationalism.

Okay, you're the one.

Li Yan leaned forward slightly, reached out and patted the reporter's chair back, and greeted him in a low voice in English.

"Hey, Buddy."

The reporter turned around and looked at the young Asian face with some surprise.

Li Yan pointed to Guan Hu, who was still rambling on stage:

"This kind of cliché might have won a few awards in Europe ten years ago, but it's 09 now. Don't you think this set of 'ancient Eastern fables' is getting a bit moldy? If I were you, I wouldn't know how to write this report with anything new..."

The reporter was taken aback. This person was very knowledgeable. It was a well-known fact that writing about Venice was becoming increasingly difficult.

"What are you trying to say?" the reporter asked in a low voice.

Li Yan moved closer:

"You can ask him why, with the Chinese film market growing at a crazy rate of 30% annually, the 'New Wave' films he talks about are completely ignored domestically?"

"Is it that hundreds of millions of viewers don't understand art, or is this a 'specially made' product designed to cater to the judges' tastes?"

"Are you asking about the disconnect between art films and the commercial market?" The reporter quickly grasped the key point.

"No, what I want to ask is the hypocrisy of the right to speak."

The reporter's eyes lit up.

This is an excellent entry point! The struggle for discourse power, the clash between commerce and art—it's sharp and topical enough…

He loves fighting and all that...

Now it's time for the Q&A session.

The Hollywood reporter then raised his hand high.

Out of respect for The Hollywood Reporter, the host called him out immediately.

The reporter stood up and took the microphone:

"Mr. Guan, you have repeatedly emphasized 'universal values' and 'the brilliance of humanity'."

"But I noticed an interesting statistic: these kinds of 'art films' from China are performing worse and worse in North America and Europe, with many even unable to be screened. Moreover, in China itself, audiences don't seem to be buying into them either."

He glanced at the notes in his hand, which contained the inspiration Li Yan had just given him, and added:

"On the contrary, audiences today seem to prefer modern works with high concepts and strong narrative rhythms, such as 'Andhadhun,' another Chinese-language film in the Horizons section."

"Do you believe that your strategy of 'examining the outdated' films is outdated, both commercially and artistically?"

boom……

This question was like a bomb, instantly waking the drowsy crowd in the banquet hall.

Daniel Katz, who was about to leave, sat back down upon hearing this and raised an eyebrow with interest.

Jiang Zhiqiang, who was sitting in the audience, also put down the program booklet he was holding.

The program booklet prominently displayed a rating comparison between the two films: "Cow" 2.33 points, "Andhadhun" 3.58 points.

Guan Hu's face stiffened for a moment, but he quickly regained his aloof and self-admiring expression.

"This reporter is still a bit too impatient."

He chuckled softly, with an air of self-assurance that suggested he was the only one sober while everyone else was drunk.

"Film is an art of time, not a slave to box office! If we make popcorn movies just because today's audiences love them, then what's the point of having directors? What's the point of having ideas?"

He swept his gaze across the room, somehow managing to project a sense of loneliness that seemed to suggest a sparrow's inability to comprehend the ambitions of a swan.

Judging from his demeanor, you can tell he's a director after all; he's got some acting skills.