Rebirth of Chinese Entertainment from the Oscars

The news of the Palme d'Or reached China in less than twelve hours.

CCTV broadcast a breaking news report during its morning news, using footage from the Cannes Film Festival ceremony—the moment Su Chen received the Palme d'Or from Luc Besson was shown three times repeatedly. The female anchor's voice was unusually excited: "Our young director Su Chen's film 'Amour' won the Palme d'Or, the highest prize, at the 53rd Cannes International Film Festival, which concluded this morning. This marks the first time a Chinese film has won the Palme d'Or at Cannes in seven years, since Chen Kaige's 'Farewell My Concubine' in 1993. Lead actor You Benchang won the Best Actor award. Director Su Chen is only seventeen years old, making him the youngest Palme d'Or winner in the history of the Cannes Film Festival."

The People's Daily devoted half a page to the article, titled "The Palme d'Or at Seventeen: The Rise of a New Generation in Chinese Cinema." The article was written with great solemnity, its introduction stating: "At the turn of the century, a young Chinese man, with artistic insight beyond his years, has completed a profound work about the dignity of life on the world film stage. His success is not accidental; it is the result of the integration of China's film education system with international standards, and proof that Chinese stories continue to resonate on the world stage."

The Guangming Daily's headline leans more towards a cultural perspective: "From Berlin to Cannes, the Cinematic Journey of a Seventeen-Year-Old." The article traces Su Chen's complete timeline from winning two short film awards to his feature film debut and then the Palme d'Or. The final paragraph quotes an unnamed professor from the Beijing Film Academy: "Su Chen is the most talented new star in the history of the Beijing Film Academy's directing department. But talent is just a ticket; what has brought him to where he is today is an almost obsessive dedication to film."

The Beijing Youth Daily's headline was the most direct—"Palm of Fame! Su Chen: I Just Told a Story I Wanted to Tell." Reporter Yin Xue interviewed Su Chen by phone from Cannes. In her article, she wrote: "When asked about his feelings upon receiving the award, the seventeen-year-old paused for a few seconds, then said—'I want to dedicate this award to my two lead actors, Teacher You Benchang and Teacher Wu Yanshu. They used their entire lives to help me complete a ninety-minute film.' Of all the acceptance speeches I've heard, this is the least like one, and the only one that almost made me cry during the interview."

Sina.com and Sohu.com featured the film prominently in red on their entertainment channel homepages. On Sina's forum, an ID named "Beijing Film Academy Student" posted a thread titled "I saw 'Love' at a school screening, and I knew it would win an award," which garnered over 300 replies overnight. Some questioned his claim, to which the original poster replied with a single sentence: "After the screening, Chen Kaige stood up and said—'Film is the art of time.' I was sitting in the last row and saw Professor Xie Fei cry with my own eyes."

After the news spread, phone lines in the domestic film industry were practically overwhelmed with calls.

Zhang Yimou received the phone call in his courtyard at his hometown in Xi'an. He had just finished scouting locations for his period drama and was drawing storyboards in the courtyard. The call was from his assistant, Xiao Chen, who said that Su Chen had won the Palme d'Or at Cannes. Zhang Yimou placed the pencil next to the storyboard, and the pencil rolled a small circle on the paper before stopping at the edge of the half-drawn palace sketch.

"I understand," he said.

He hung up the phone and continued drawing the storyboard. After three strokes, he put down the pencil. He stood up and walked into the yard, looking at the old locust tree. His wife poked her head out of the house and asked him what was wrong. He said, "Nothing, a student won an award." Then he picked up his phone and dialed a number. When the call connected, his voice was as calm as usual: "Su Chen, it's me."

Su Chen received the phone call in his hotel room in Cannes. Due to the time difference, it was daytime in Beijing, but midnight in Cannes.

"Director Zhang."

"The Palme d'Or." Zhang Yimou only uttered these three words, as if weighing the weight of the word in his mouth. Then he paused, "I told you in Berlin—your visuals weren't as good as your story. Today I take back that statement. I saw the trailer for 'Amour,' and every frame speaks volumes."

Su Chen remained silent for a few seconds. He knew that Zhang Yimou never spoke politely. Berlin's comment, "That's enough," was already extremely high praise, and for Zhang Yimou, "taking back that statement" was equivalent to "I was wrong."

"thank you."

"Don't thank me." Zhang Yimou's voice was still as deep as ever. "Now that you've won the Palme d'Or, many people will come looking for you. Hollywood, domestic, investors, collaborators. Remember one thing—choose what you truly want to make, not what others want you to make. I've seen too many people take the wrong path at this stage."

"I've got it."

After hanging up the phone, Zhang Yimou stood in the courtyard for a long time. Then he returned to his desk, turned to the next page of the storyboard he had half-finished, and wrote a line of small print in pencil in the blank space—"Su Chen, Cannes Palme d'Or, July 2000.7." He tore the page from the storyboard, folded it, and put it in a metal box in his drawer. Inside that box were other notes—notes he had written when he first saw the rough cut of *Black Coal, Thin Ice*, storyboard sketches he had drawn at the Berlin airport, and some earlier pieces. He closed the metal box, put it back deep in the drawer, and continued drawing the storyboard. The sound of the pencil gliding across the paper was exactly the same as before, unhurried and deliberate.

Chen Kaige was woken up at 5 a.m. by a phone call at his home in Beijing. The caller was a Chinese journalist at Cannes, his voice so excited it sounded like he was about to jump out of the microphone. After listening, Chen Kaige simply said, "I already knew," then hung up and sat on the edge of the bed, remaining motionless for a long while.

When he first saw *Amour* at the Beijing Film Academy's screening, he knew it would win the Palme d'Or. It wasn't a prediction, but a more accurate judgment—like a master carpenter with decades of experience seeing a piece of wood and knowing what it could be made into without even touching it. He stood up, went to his study, and took a photo album from the shelf. Inside was a picture—a photo from 1993, taken when he won the Palme d'Or at Cannes. He looked much younger in the photo, his hair still black, holding the Palme d'Or trophy, his eyes gleaming with a light that only comes with winning the highest award. That light contained pride, confidence, and the release of "I finally did it," but also a hint of uncertainty—what should he film next?

He closed the photo album and put it back on the bookshelf. Then he picked up the phone and dialed Su Chen's number in Cannes. When the call connected, he didn't exchange pleasantries and went straight to the point, his voice slower than usual, with longer pauses between each word.

"Su Chen, this is Chen Kaige. Congratulations."

"Thank you, Teacher Chen."

"What are you thinking about right now?"

Su Chen was silent for a few seconds on the other end of the phone. "I'm thinking about my next film."

Chen Kaige laughed. It wasn't a polite laugh; he was genuinely amused by the answer. "You were already thinking about your next film the night you won the Palme d'Or—you're even crazier than me." His tone turned serious. "I'm not calling just to congratulate you. I want to tell you—after the Palme d'Or, the hardest thing isn't making movies, it's maintaining your original passion for filmmaking. You'll be surrounded by applause, surrounded by all sorts of temptations. Hollywood will come to you, domestic investors will line up to invite you to dinner. But you have to remember what you truly want to make. It took me seven years to figure this out. You won't need that long."

Su Chen listened quietly on the other end of the phone, then said, "Professor Chen, I've always remembered what you said at the Beijing Film Academy's preview screening: 'Film is the art of time.' I want to film many different kinds of time."

  

After hanging up the phone, Chen Kaige stood by the window for a long time. Outside in Beijing, dawn was just breaking, and elderly people were doing their morning exercises in the alleyways. He thought about his next film—a story about a musician and a child. The script had been revised many times, but he was still not entirely satisfied. Now he felt that perhaps it could be revised again.

Feng Xiaogang saw it in the newspaper.

His studio was located in a small alley in Dongcheng District, Beijing. The storefront was small, but the interior was crammed with various props and poster tubes. When Feng Xiaogang arrived at the studio in the morning, his assistant spread the day's newspaper on the table. The front page of the entertainment section featured a profile of a young man holding the Palme d'Or trophy—Su ​​Chen. Feng Xiaogang picked up the newspaper, read it once, then again. He then slammed the newspaper down on the table, the sound so loud that his assistant peeked in from the next room.

"How old is she? Seventeen?"

"Seventeen," the assistant answered cautiously.

"Seventeen years old, Palme d'Or." Feng Xiaogang pronounced these three words one by one, as if savoring a dish he had never tasted before. He leaned back in his chair, propped his feet up on the table, and stared at the ceiling for a while. Then he put his feet down, picked up the newspaper again, turned to the interview with Yin Xue, and read it from beginning to end. After finishing, he folded the newspaper and placed it on the corner of the table.

"Give Han Sanping a call," he told his assistant.

"What did you say?"

"Just say I'm treating him to dinner. And while I'm at it, ask Su Chen when he's coming back from Cannes."

Feng Xiaogang is known in the industry for his straightforwardness, never hiding his preference for commercial films—he makes New Year's films, comedies set in Beijing's hutongs, and films that ordinary people enjoy. But this doesn't mean he doesn't understand what constitutes good film. He saw the trailer for *Amour* on the movie channel and immediately felt that the film was different. Now, having won the Palme d'Or, his judgment is even clearer. This seventeen-year-old isn't just capable of making those incomprehensible art films. *Black Coal, Thin Ice* in Berlin was a crime film, *Amour* in Cannes was an art film, and he's rumored to be planning a comedy next—this kid can make anything. And this ability to "make anything" excites Feng Xiaogang more than any trophy.

The reactions of older generations of filmmakers in China are far more complex than those of younger directors.

When a semi-retired director of the fourth generation of cinema was interviewed and asked about his opinion on "Amour" winning the Palme d'Or, he paused for a few seconds, then said in an attempt to remain objective: "It's a good thing that young people can win awards. But the Cannes jury's tastes are constantly changing. The French like slow, quiet things. Our films can't always be making this kind of stuff for foreigners; we also need to make films that ordinary people can understand." This statement, published in the newspapers, sparked considerable controversy within the film industry. Some felt the old man's words made sense, while others thought it was sour grapes—the old man had made films his entire life without ever winning the Palme d'Or.

Another veteran director put it more bluntly at an internal symposium at the Beijing Film Studio: "I've seen this film. The pace is too slow; how can young people have the patience to watch it? Two old men, sitting in one room from beginning to end—what's the point? Films should serve the people, not just film festivals." But to Su Chen's surprise, Xie Jin sent a fax to the Beijing Film Academy after watching *Love*. The fax contained only one sentence—"Su Chen: You've made me rethink what Chinese cinema is."

After hearing these comments, Hou Keming smashed a cup in his office. Not literally, but with a thud as he placed it heavily on the table, the enamel cup making a dull thud on the wooden surface. "What's with the sour grapes? Go to Cannes and bring one back yourself if you're so capable." He took off his reading glasses and vigorously rubbed the lenses with the corner of his shirt, making them creak. "Our students, trained at the Beijing Film Academy, bring honor to Chinese cinema internationally. How come in some people's mouths they're just 'made for foreigners'? Aren't Liu Jianguo and Wang Xiulan Chinese? Aren't their stories Chinese stories?"

Xie Fei was much calmer than him. He sat beside Hou Keming, flipping through a recent issue of *Cahiers du Cinéma*—the French issue featured *Amour* on the cover—and handed the magazine to Hou Keming when he reached the film reviews. "Read this," he said. "The French critics say—'Su Chen has found a new expression for Ozu Yasujiro's restraint and Bergman's profundity within a Chinese context.' They don't think this film is catering to Western tastes. They feel it shows them a different China."

Hou Keming took the magazine, read a few lines, and snorted. "The French really understand film." He put the magazine down, his voice lowering. "But it's no use that the French understand. Su Chen's path in China will become increasingly difficult. He won the Palme d'Or at only seventeen; some people will think he's moving too fast—too fast makes others seem too slow."