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

Guan Hu continued in a deep voice:

"As for what you call 'outdated'... haha, true art is often lonely in the present day."

"Van Gogh couldn't sell a single painting when he was alive, and Cao Xueqin couldn't afford a bowl of porridge when he was writing 'Dream of the Red Chamber'."

"If we abandon the exploration of human nature in order to cater to the market, that would be a dereliction of duty as creators and filmmakers!"

"As for the audience... I'm willing to wait, wait for them to catch up slowly, wait for them to learn how to appreciate it..."

His words were quite intimidating.

At least many of the foreigners in the audience, who had been brainwashed by the idea of ​​"art above all else," were momentarily confused and couldn't help but nod frequently.

The Hollywood female reporter was also rendered speechless by the rebuttal.

After all, in the territory of the three major film festivals, the banner of "art" does indeed carry an inherent sense of correctness.

The scene fell silent for a moment, and Guan Hu leaned back in his chair with a slightly smug look on his face.

Just then.

A burst of crisp yet unusually jarring applause rang out from the back row.

"Slap, slap, slap..."

Li Yanqing's clear voice, tinged with mockery, followed:

"That's well said! Van Gogh was poor because his ideas were ahead of their time, but some people are poor simply because their films are terrible!"

All eyes in the room turned to him immediately, focusing on the young man who had suddenly stood up.

"Li Yan?"

Guan Hu narrowed his eyes, recognizing the troublemaker who had dared to defy him to his face yesterday, and sneered:

"What, you think you can talk about art just because you took a picture of a 'GG'?"

Li Yan ignored his sarcasm and took the microphone directly from the American reporter who seemed to enjoy the drama:

"Director Guan is really eloquent. He makes incompetence sound so elegant and refined, and even brings Van Gogh and Cao Xueqin to endorse it. He really has the demeanor of a master."

Guan Hu's expression changed: "What exactly did you say?!"

"I'm saying you've twisted the meaning of your statement."

Li Yan's smile faded, and he looked directly at the stage:

"You equate audience dislike with low aesthetic standards, and the inability to get your film screened with the loneliness of art... It sounds so touching! But none of this can cover up the arrogant fact that you have poor storytelling ability."

Li Yan's voice sounded very clear through the speakers.

All the cameras were focused on him, including Ding Xiaoxiao, who was carrying a DV camera and looking excited.

"Schindler's List won an Oscar and topped the global box office. Was it because audiences suddenly had a breakthrough in aesthetics that year? Or is Spielberg's artistic level simply inferior to yours?"

Guan Hu instinctively retorted, "That's Hollywood, it's special..."

Li Yan interrupted him:

"Okay, then let's not talk about Hollywood, let's talk about Italy, let's talk about here."

He pointed to the ground:

"Roberto Benigni's 'Life Is Beautiful,' also a World War II film, also deals with humanity. It made audiences laugh and cry, won the Jury Prize at Cannes, and grossed over $200 million worldwide."

"Director Guan, how come other people can earn money and win awards while standing tall? But with you, does art have to be dirty and messy? Does it have to be incomprehensible to the audience? Does it have to be 'even Japanese devils have humanity'?"

Upon hearing this, Jiang Zhiqiang, sitting in the audience, subconsciously rubbed the program booklet on his knee, a strange glint flashing in his eyes.

He had heard too many directors talk to him about sentiment, art, and how the audience didn't understand him.

He was so tired of hearing it that he had to grit his teeth and spend the money.

Young people like Li Yan, who dare to so openly lay bare box office numbers and audience expectations in a "temple of art" like Venice, are extremely rare.

"The words may be rough, but the meaning is sound..." Jiang Zhiqiang silently commented in his mind.

As a businessman, he greatly admires directors who "treat the audience as human beings."

Guan Hu on the stage was momentarily speechless, his face flushing red: "These are two different things... That's sophistry!"

"No, that's the same thing!"

Li Yan raised his voice, pressing closer and closer:

"A true master uses simple language to explain profound truths, while an opportunist uses obscure and difficult-to-understand language to cover up the emptiness of the content."

"You keep talking about universal values ​​and the brilliance of humanity... then let me ask you this!"

"If you replaced the Japanese characters in your film with Nazis, and moved the setting to Auschwitz, would you dare to say to the entire Jewish community, 'Even the Gestapo had their moments of humanity'?"

boom!

Daniel Katz, who was sitting in the front row, immediately sat up straight and stared at Li Yan.

But he had to admit that although his words sounded harsh, they were unassailable!

Guan Hu was stumped by the question. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

In Europe, on this occasion, would he dare to say it? He wouldn't!

Li Yan glanced around, his gaze sweeping over the thoughtful media professionals before finally settling back on Guan Hu:

"Deliberate self-degradation to cater to others' prejudices, and selling out national sentiments for the sake of trophies."

"If you've read Edward Said's *Orientalism*, you should know that this kind of behavior has a specific term in academia..."

He said, enunciating each word clearly:

"Call it 'self-colonization'!"

……

If the reporter's question was a bomb, then the phrase "self-colonization" is a Big Bang.

In European film festivals where left-wing ideology prevails, especially in Venice with its tradition of cultural criticism, this label is essentially tantamount to saying that he is a cultural comprador who sells his soul in order to win awards.

Because Li Yan wasn't talking to him about art; instead, she directly pulled down his underwear and pointed her finger at him, cursing him.

You're not doing art, you're just groveling to foreigners!

Guan Hu slammed his fist on the table and stood up in a fit of rage. His previous air of mastery had completely vanished, and his hand trembled as he pointed at Li Yan.

"You...you're slandering me! This is defamation! This is blasphemy against art!"

Li Yan smiled dismissively:

Whether it's slander or not, the market will give the answer, and time will also provide the answer.

"But I believe that the 'new' wave of Chinese cinema will absolutely not be built on the basis of 'self-colonization'."

"It should be built upon a confident, egalitarian, and modern Eastern narrative!"

After speaking, Li Yan handed the microphone back to the dumbfounded reporter, turned around, and strode out.

Those who walk different paths cannot make plans together!

The venue was deathly silent.

After a while.

"Awesome!!!"

Zhang Qiang was the first to jump up, forcefully waving his fist and shouting in a voice that was almost distorted, breaking the silence.

Then, scattered applause broke out, which then grew into a continuous burst, and there were even a few whistles.

Marco Müller sat in the shadows of the side curtain, watching Li Yan's departing figure with a complex expression. Finally, he gave a helpless laugh and shook his head.

This young man is really something else!

……