Huayu: Reborn in 97, transferring to the Central Academy of Drama's star-studded class

Jiang Lai stared speechlessly at the barbecue restaurant in front of him. Although he also liked eating skewers, Old Jia was talking about serious business as if it were the most important thing in the world. He had never heard of anyone discussing serious business over barbecue.

Well, let the host decide. Jiang Lai found the private room after going through many twists and turns.

"Sorry I'm late."

Before he arrived, his voice preceded his arrival; Jiang Lai said as he pushed open the door to the private room.

"Crunch, creak—"

A sound of a chair scraping against the floor rang out.

Eight people in the private room stood up in unison, all staring silently at Jiang Lai.

This display of force successfully intimidated Jiang Lai, making him now particularly eager to raise his hand and say, "Hello, comrades."

Jia Kezhang walked over, pulled him aside, and introduced him: "This is General Manager Jiang."

As he spoke, he pressed Jiang Lai into the seat, the head seat.

"Everyone, please introduce yourselves. I won't introduce each of you to Mr. Jiang individually," Jia Kezhang said as he sat down.

"That's natural."

"Of course, of course."

Everyone agreed and sat down, but then looked at each other, unsure who would speak first. Lou Ye, ever the composed old man, sat down and stared blankly at his nose, acting as if it were none of his business.

A rough-looking man with curly hair and a round face spoke first: "Hello, Mr. Jiang, my name is Zhang Yuan. I directed 'Mama,' 'Bastards in Beijing,' and 'East Palace West Palace.'"

"Hello, it's an honor to meet you," Jiang said politely.

Although he didn't know why the other person wanted to talk about what movies they had acted in, he understood the subtext of such self-introductions: "Please flatter me." He was used to the idea that everyone would fawn over someone who was trying to gain favor. Even though he had never heard of the movies the other person was talking about.

Someone set an example, and then a round-faced man wearing glasses said, "Hello, Mr. Jiang, my name is Wang Xiaoshuai. I've directed 'The Days' and 'Extreme Cold.' I'd like to offer you a toast!"

He poured himself a beer and downed it in one gulp.

"My name is Lu Xuechang..."

"I'm just bluffing..."

"My name is Wang Quan'an..."

"My name is Zhang Yang..."

The remaining people followed suit, first talking about what they had filmed, and then trying to come up with a way to make a stronger impression on Jiang.

Jiang Lai looked around. These people were all of varying appearances, but Lou Ye was actually the most handsome among them.

But what kind of gathering is this today? Is it an underground meeting of elements?

Although he didn't know these people, he had heard of them through his long schooling, and some of them seemed to have been banned.

Soon, the dishes were served one by one. Jiang Lai looked at the large kidneys, chives, oysters, and various penises in front of him and fell into deep thought. "They only eat things that are good for male virility, right? They're all old men after all."

He suddenly missed Nai'an, that sister; he'd never seen anyone discuss serious matters while eating this stuff.

He had already guessed what this was all about, but since none of these people said anything, he was too lazy to ask.

Soon, after several rounds of cola and alcohol, Jiang drank cola while the others drank alcohol. Finally, Wang Quan'an couldn't hold back any longer and pulled out a script, saying, "Mr. Jiang, this is my new play. Please take a look. I hope to get your investment."

In an instant, all of them, whom they were meeting for the first time, pulled out their scripts.

"This is mine."

"And me!"

"Mr. Jiang, would you do me the honor of taking a look?"

Jiang looked at Jia Kezhang, whose gaze darted away. He then looked at Lou Ye, who had been eating a large piece of kidney without a care in the world, still acting as if it were none of his business.

He understood immediately and said with a smile, "Alright, then I'll take the time to read your works."

After saying that, he collected all the scripts and started looking through them one by one.

The concept of the Sixth Generation directors was proposed by film critics, media, and other enthusiasts after the turn of the century, as these directors gradually gained international recognition in the 1990s. So why didn't anyone mention it at that time?

Because the sixth brother has become invisible.

Okay, just kidding, because they're only just starting out.

The Fifth Generation was the first to be recognized. In the 1980s, people noticed the mentor-mentee relationship between Chen Kaige and his teacher Zheng Dongtian. Based on this relationship, the generational lineage of domestic directors was naturally divided upwards and downwards.

If we really look at directors of different generations in the same way as the Calabash Brothers, then the first generation of directors, led by Zheng Zhengqiu, who were active in the early 20th century, were undoubtedly pioneers who paved the way for Chinese films with their passion and courage.

The second generation, on the other hand, had a profound understanding of the social realities of the old society and confronted the national crisis of that time.

The third generation, after the founding of the People's Republic of China, expressed their patriotism with a firm sense of the times.

Starting with the fourth generation, directors used poetic and simple documentary aesthetics, like a warm flame illuminating the local customs and traditions of our country.

The Fifth Generation, whom we are most familiar with, have films that, like a surging river, have washed away old cinematic concepts and begun to use grand narratives to reflect on the times.

The sixth generation, like the invisible Sixth Brother, wanders on the edge of the city, gazing at the individuals and the heavy burdens of life that are ignored by the times.

The reason there isn't a seventh generation is because the seventh brother took in the previous six.

Well, that's another lame joke. The truth is, the marketization of the film industry has slapped directors and everyone in the entertainment industry in the face.

Capital is starting to flood the market. If you can't make money making movies, then you might as well give up.

Only when the tide goes out do you discover who's been swimming naked; those directors hailed as avant-garde and masters have all been dragged down from their pedestals.

Forget about ideology, consciousness, and sentiment; everything is about money.

The advantage of this is that directors are finally starting to think about what the audience wants to see, instead of simply immersing themselves in their own world. As for the disadvantages, that's something we should be thinking about now.

Therefore, the seventh generation consists of all directors who can survive in the market.

Let's not talk about art yet. If you're capable, you can bring your own art into the process of making commercial films. If you're not capable, you'll either starve or honestly try to make films that audiences like to watch. Some so-called self-reliant people can't even make good art films.

The sixth generation was like that; only a very small number of people made it to the end.

Jiang Lai flipped through the scripts, and the directors, who were enjoying their barbecue, couldn't even concentrate on eating; they kept glancing at the scripts nervously.

Whether above ground or underground, the biggest headache for directors is funding.

Jiang quickly finished reading through the scripts. They weren't particularly good or bad, but they weren't terrible movies either. Regardless of whether the writers wanted to express themselves or what, at least they respected the audience, unlike some other films.

He thought for a moment and said, "I've read the script. I can invest in it. You can even contact me if you want to make a movie in the future, but I only have one condition."

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief at first, then tensed up and listened attentively.

"If any of your movies lose money, I will never invest in them again."

Upon hearing this condition, everyone felt relieved. At this point, they were still very confident in themselves and showered each other with compliments.

Jiang Lai waved his hand to indicate that he was going to the restroom, and winked at Jia Kezhang, who understood and followed him.

In the restroom, Jiang Lai pulled out the lump of urine and started urinating, asking, "So, what's going on today?"

Jia Kezhang echoed this sentiment, saying, "Lou Ye and I secured investment and successfully made the film. Our old friends then approached us, asking us to make introductions. I relented on a whim and agreed, because I know how difficult it is to find investment."

Jiang Lai nodded without saying anything.

Jia Kezhang gritted his teeth and said, "This has nothing to do with Lou Ye. You don't need to invest in my next film. I'll figure it out myself."

"It's alright, I should invest in yours. Don't forget you helped me earn millions. Besides, I'm a capitalist. If those people lose money, I naturally won't invest. If I make money, I should thank you." Jiang Lai said with a smile.

The saying "A scholar will die for one who understands him" probably describes Jia Kezhang's current mood. Although he has won major international awards and has no shortage of investment, having investment and having sufficient funds are two different things.

Moreover, there is still no record of him in the country; the specific reasons are unnecessary to elaborate on.

Jiang Lai readily agreed, but it only made things harder for our Ying Jie. She used to be carefree, but now she's forced to work.

Jiang Lai had just settled down when the third invitation came – this time from Zhou Xun.

The short, cute girl said there was a new romance movie out recently and invited him to watch it together. Jiang Lai wasn't interested at first, but when he heard it was "Titanic," he decided to go and watch it anyway, to relive the classic.

The two of them bought tickets and went inside without any hesitation. They were both still young and didn't have many people who knew them.

After the movie premiered, Jiang Lai couldn't help but marvel at how handsome and youthful Leonardo DiCaprio was in his younger days, and how beautiful Jennifer Lawrence was.

As the film progressed, it reached its most heart-wrenching moment: the ship collided with an iceberg, and Rose and Jack repeatedly gave up their chances of survival for each other. Finally, on that floating sampan, Leonardo DiCaprio let go and sank to the bottom of the sea.

Zhou Xun broke down in tears, sobbing uncontrollably on Jiang Lai's shoulder. Jiang Lai was terrified that she might faint from exhaustion.

After the three-hour movie ended, a large group of men and women with red, teary eyes walked out of the theater, telling each other that they would bring their friends to see it again.

Who could have imagined that this film would become the highest-grossing film in mainland China and remain at the top of the charts for 11 years, especially in an era when there were only three or four thousand screens available?

Ultimately, it was a Hollywood movie that broke this record: Transformers 2.

Domestic filmmakers have been slapped in the face.

As the two walked outside, Zhou Xun, still sobbing, suddenly asked, "If your girlfriend and I fell into the water, would you give me the chance to live and let me get on the boat?"

"What?! Go to bed?" Jiang Lai was still lost in thought and didn't hear clearly at all.

"Are you even listening to me?! I said get on the ship!"

"Oh, that's not a boat, it's just a plank."

The short, cute girl was so angry she laughed, and turned away, sulking, ignoring him.

Jiang Lai breathed a sigh of relief. Thank goodness, he had managed to get away with it.

In mid-May, Jiang Lai also received a notification from Assistant Director Yate of the "My Father and Mother" production team.

Join the crew!