Rebirth of Chinese Entertainment from the Oscars

The entrance examination for the undergraduate directing department of Beijing Film Academy in 1998 was known for its rigorous standards.

The number of applicants remains in the hundreds year after year, but only a handful of fifteen to twenty are ultimately admitted. The exam consists of a preliminary test, a second test, and a third test, with each stage of selection testing not only the candidates' cultural literacy and artistic perception, but also their understanding of the film itself, their on-the-spot reaction, and—whether they have that "energy."

The preliminary test consisted of general knowledge of literary and artistic theory and film analysis.

Su Chen answered with lightning speed. The questions on the exam were as simple as asking a college student to do elementary school math. He not only answered all the objective questions accurately, but in the film analysis section, he chose Xie Jin's "Hibiscus Town." With a steady and insightful style, he analyzed the film's narrative structure, mise-en-scène, political metaphors, and the interplay between the actors' performances and the camera work. He didn't flaunt any outdated concepts, but rather dissected the film clearly and thoroughly with a solid and keen understanding that an academic would appreciate.

As he left the examination hall, he noticed many students were still writing furiously, some with beads of sweat on their foreheads. Su Chen capped his pen, slung his backpack over his shoulder, and quietly left.

Three days later, the results of the re-examination were released. Su Chen's name was prominently listed.

The second round of interviews consisted of a short skit creation and a written test. Su Chen's group was assigned the topic "The Punishment for Being Late." Most of the other candidates had come up with typical scenarios like students being scolded by teachers for being late or office workers having their pay docked for being late. When it was Su Chen's turn, he stepped forward without seeking a partner.

"All I need is a chair," he told the examiner.

Then, he sat down in the chair, leaning forward, his hands clasped tightly on his knees, his eyes fixed on the empty space ahead, his lips pressed together, and the veins on his forehead throbbing faintly. The entire space was so quiet that only his rapid breathing could be heard. He raised his wrist to check his watch with an almost neurotic stiffness, then suddenly stood up, only to slump back down, burying his face deeply in his hands.

There wasn't a single line of dialogue.

But everyone understood—this man wasn't late for an exam, or a meeting. He was late for his wife's delivery room, his father's funeral, a moment in his life that could never be made up for.

"That's enough." The examiner interrupted him, his voice carrying a barely perceptible hint of emotion.

Su Chen stood up, his expression returning to calm, bowed, and stepped aside.

The third interview that afternoon was crucial in determining his final decision. When Su Chen entered the small classroom, five examiners were sitting inside. In the center was an elderly man with gray hair and sharp eyes—Hou Keming, a senior professor in the directing department.

"Su Chen?" Hou Keming glanced down at the application form in front of him. "Sixteen years old, very young. Why do you want to apply to the directing department?"

Su Chen didn't spout any platitudes about "loving movies." He thought for a moment and replied earnestly, "Because I have stories I want to tell, and I know how to tell them well."

This answer caused the examiners to exchange glances. It wasn't arrogance, but rather a confident statement of fact.

"What works have you created before?" another examiner asked.

  

"I've filmed some short pieces I wrote myself." Su Chen took out a VHS tape from his bag. "These are some practice clips I filmed before. Please give me your feedback, teachers."

This is a collection of short films that he put together over several months with a borrowed secondhand camera, a few familiar child actors from the Beijing Film Studio, and even his own parents, all at virtually no cost. Technically limited by the equipment, the camera work and narrative pacing are already showing promise.

The videotape was inserted into the player. The image lit up on the small television screen.

Fifteen minutes later, the atmosphere in the classroom completely changed.

Hou Keming took off his reading glasses, leaned back, and looked at Su Chen with undisguised surprise and admiration. This boy's use of camera language and understanding of light and shadow—where was he to be a sixteen-year-old?

"You said your parents work at the Beijing Film Studio?" Hou Keming asked.

"Yes, teacher. Father: Su Zhigao, Mother: Wu Qingfang."

Hou Keming nodded and didn't ask any more questions. But he already had a judgment in his heart—this child was a rough gem, no, he had even polished himself to a shine.

As Su Chen walked out of the classroom after the interview, he ran into several other students who were also taking the exam in the hallway. One of them, a boy with thick eyebrows and big eyes, smiled at him and said, "You must be Su Chen? I saw your skit during the second round of interviews, it was absolutely brilliant."

"Thank you." Su Chen nodded politely. "What's your name?"

"Zhou Qing is also applying to the directing department. It depends on luck."

Later, Zhou Qing got into university. He became one of Su Chen's best friends in college.

A week later, the final admission list was announced. Su Chen was admitted with the highest score in his major.

This news caused quite a stir within the Beijing Film Studio compound and the Beijing Film Academy. Sixteen years old, ranked first in his major. Even more talked about was that several acting professors who had seen his work reportedly expressed their admiration privately after the admissions process concluded.

"With looks and physique like that, why doesn't she study acting? It's such a waste!"

After this news spread, a rumor began circulating among the students of the 96, 97, and 98 classes—a new student named Su Chen had arrived in the Directing Department in 98, and he was undoubtedly the "most handsome man in the Directing Department" for the past three years. Some even secretly went to the entrance of the Directing Department's teaching building, wanting to see what this legendary handsome man looked like.

Su Chen remained unmoved by the attention. His mind was entirely focused on his upcoming plans.

In September 1998, the freshmen of the 1998 class enrolled at the Beijing Film Academy.

Su Chen didn't live on campus. His home was right in the Beijing Film Studio compound, only a ten-minute bike ride from the school. But this decision didn't prevent him from quickly integrating into the directing department. During military training, he and Zhou Qing were assigned to the same dormitory, and the two quickly became acquainted.

"Old Su, I heard your book has been published?" Zhou Qing lay on the bed, his face full of curiosity. "I haven't spent the allowance my dad sent me yet. I'll buy a copy and read it later."

"I'll send you one later," Su Chen said.

"Really? That's great!"

Zhou Qing is an outgoing and straightforward person, with a carefree attitude, but he has an extremely sincere heart for film. This is what Su Chen values ​​most. Throughout his long career, Zhou Qing has always been one of his most trusted creative partners. Although his name will never be as prominent as Su Chen's, he has always held the position of assistant director or executive director in the credits of many of Su Chen's films.

The days after the start of the school year passed quickly. Su Chen attended classes as usual while using his spare time to conceive his short film. The three major European film festivals all have short film competition sections, especially Venice and Cannes, which place great importance on short films. His plan was clear—to use short films to gain international influence and pave the way for his feature films.

The first target is "Black Hole".

This story is inspired by memories of a past life. A man was printing documents when the printer suddenly spat out a strange piece of paper—printed with a black dot, but which led to a bottomless hole. He stuck the paper to the wall, reached through the hole, and discovered he could retrieve things from the office across the street. Driven by greed, he climbed into the hole, wanting to steal even more, but at the last moment, the paper detached from the wall, trapping him forever in darkness.

Su Chen spent three days completing the storyboard. Every frame was drawn with extreme precision, with camera positions, focal lengths, lighting directions, and actor movements clearly marked. This was thanks to his basic skills as a director who was essentially a "tool" in his previous life—a competent "tool" must first and foremost be the one who understands the technology best.

He used his savings to buy a second-hand Arriflex 16mm film camera and also sourced some leftover film from the Beijing Film Studio. For the lead role, he found a middle-aged supporting actor he knew at the studio. The filming location was an unused office at the Beijing Film Studio; he handled the art direction himself, spending only a few hundred yuan on materials to transform the office into the space he needed.

Filming took only two and a half days. Post-production editing was done in the school's editing room, using equipment that was only available to senior students in the directing department—a privilege specially granted by Professor Hou Keming.

When he handed the finished film to Hou Keming, the old professor, who had seen countless films, watched it three times. Then he took off his glasses and remained silent for a long time.

"Su Chen, tell me, how long have you been working on this script?"

"I've been thinking about it for a few days now," Su Chen couldn't tell the truth.

Hou Keming stared at him for a long time, then finally sighed: "Sometimes God really is unfair. I'll submit this to the Venice Film Festival's short film competition. I can't guarantee it will win an award, but I can say it deserves to be seen by more people."