I am a historical film director in the entertainment industry.

Xu Fan's words hit the nail on the head.

Chen Hong pondered for a moment and then agreed with her statement.

There's no need to cause unnecessary public opinion storms because of a moment of willfulness. This will not only bring trouble but also create more problems for herself and allow people to speculate wildly about her relationship with Chen Kaige.

She immediately took out her phone, opened Weibo, edited a message congratulating Chen Kaige on winning the Venice Golden Lion Award, added a happy smiley face emoji at the end, and clicked publish.

The seemingly warm blessing concealed a calm and indifferent state of mind.

Orange Sky Entertainment Office

The Venice Film Festival is still generating a lot of buzz online, and major entertainment companies in China are closely watching the potential shifts in the film industry landscape brought about by this grand event.

Inside Orange Sky Entertainment's top-floor office, floor-to-ceiling windows offer views of the bustling city streets, yet the atmosphere inside is strangely subtle.

Fan Shuangbing strode into the office in high heels and immediately saw Wang Jinhua leaning on the sofa, watching the award ceremony footage on her computer.

At this moment, she couldn't hide the anxiety and intense jealousy in her eyes, and her tone was somewhat urgent: "Sister Hua, when Director Chen Kaige comes back from abroad, can we find an opportunity to ask him about his plans for his next film?"

She was genuinely envious.

Over the years, in an effort to break into the international stage and win mainstream awards, she has repeatedly traveled overseas at her own expense to attend various film festivals and walk the red carpets, spending countless connections, financial resources, and energy. In the end, she has only gained some exposure and popularity, and has not even come close to winning any awards.

On the other hand, Chen Kaige, with his film "Blue Is the Warmest Color", not only won the Venice Golden Lion again after many years and secured his position as an internationally renowned director, but also helped Twins win the Best Actress award, making them the youngest Best Actress winners at the three major European film festivals overnight.

Real trophies and a real boost in international standing are a hundred times more effective than any empty fame gained from red carpet appearances.

Seeing artists who were once her peers, or even those who started at a lower level, rise to stardom, Fan Shuangbing's jealousy was almost overflowing.

Wang Jinhua slowly turned off the video, looked up at her, and spoke in a calm and clear tone, with the precise insight of a top agent in the industry: "Bingbing, don't you understand yet? Chen Kaige's ability to secure the Golden Lion this time is not his own achievement at all."

As a seasoned industry veteran with access to top-tier resources and inside information, Wang Jinhua had long since uncovered all the inside stories. She knew Chen Kaige's key trump card for winning the award and the secret agreement between him and Cheng Sheng.

Throughout the entire process, all camera work, plot development, character design, and emotional core were strictly executed according to Cheng Sheng's script, without a single word being changed or a single scene being adjusted.

If this film were to be polished according to Chen Kaige's consistent artistic narrative style and casual shooting techniques, with arbitrary script modifications and the addition of personal expressions, it would be uncertain whether this film could even be nominated for the main competition unit, let alone compete for the Golden Lion.

"Sister Hua, what do you mean by that?" Fan Shuangbing was slightly taken aback, her eyes full of doubt.

"You forgot, this entire script for the Investiture of the Gods was written by Cheng Sheng from beginning to end," Wang Jinhua gently reminded him.

Fan Shuangbing was stunned for a moment before belatedly recalling previous media reports that rumors had been circulating in the industry that the core script of "Blue Is the Warmest Color" was written by Cheng Sheng.

However, in her preconceived notion, the entertainment industry has always revolved around directors and actors. Screenwriters are merely behind-the-scenes writers who are only responsible for providing the story blueprint. The final quality, cinematic expression, and artistic merit of the entire film all depend on the director's skill and aesthetic sense.

For this reason, public opinion and industry evaluations have attributed almost all the credit to Chen Kaige.

This is a common prejudice in the entire Chinese entertainment industry, and it's not just Fan Shuangbing who holds this view.

Outsiders only know the glamour of the director and the brilliance of the movie stars, but they have long forgotten the original intention of "the essence of a play".

Beneath the glamorous facade of the entertainment industry, Chinese screenwriters have always been at the lowest rung, often jokingly referring to themselves as "word-writing laborers" or "script tailors," their status so low as to be almost negligible.

They are the creators of all film and television stories, the source and foundation of the entire work, yet they forever live in the shadow of the director and the stars.

Original ideas are arbitrarily altered, painstakingly crafted scripts are wantonly modified, authorship rights are diluted, and labor remuneration is severely mismatched with creative risks—these have long been the norm in the industry.

Even in an era where content is king, screenwriters who hold the source of stories are still trapped at the bottom of the industry's ecosystem, struggling to make ends meet. This is not accidental, but a predicament created by the industry's power structure, distorted ecosystem, market regulation, and the current state of practitioners.

First, there is a complete imbalance of power in the industry, with screenwriters having no say whatsoever.

The domestic film and television industry has long been dominated by director-centric, star-centric, and capital-centric systems, but there has been no screenwriter-centric system.

The director is the absolute authority in the production team, holding the ultimate power of life and death over the script. They can arbitrarily delete, adjust, or reconstruct the script without the screenwriter's consent.

Top-tier celebrities often have the authority to revise scripts, frequently using excuses such as inconsistencies in character portrayal, insufficient screen time, or lack of charisma to improvise on set, forcibly adding or deleting scenes and altering character settings, completely overturning the screenwriter's original intentions.

At the same time, capital and platforms hold the power to control projects. Using big data and traffic logic, they force screenwriters to pile up cliché elements such as sweet romance, plot twists, and tragic love, whitewash villains, cut sensitive plots, and weaken profound themes.

Originally independent artistic creations have been completely reduced to tools for investors to cater to the market, and screenwriters have been reduced from creators to "word laborers" who compromise with all parties, resulting in a complete dilution of originality.

Secondly, the industry ecosystem is distorted, with rampant unspoken rules.

Investors often use the guise of "project bidding" to invite dozens of screenwriters to polish outlines and write sample scenes for free. In the end, they integrate all the creative works, select the best ones, and use them without paying a penny. Free creative ideas and stealing outlines are already open secrets in the industry.

In order to get a chance to enter the industry, novice screenwriters can only become cheap ghostwriters, staying up all night to polish scripts, and ultimately they cannot even guarantee the most basic right to be credited.

The multi-round, multi-person revision process has led to numerous disputes over authorship, blurring the lines between original works, adaptations, and post-production polishing, and silently encroaching on the hard work of countless screenwriters.

More importantly, most domestic screenwriters sell their copyrights outright. The success of their works, including box office hits and widespread online buzz, has nothing to do with the screenwriters. They cannot enjoy box office revenue sharing or long-term streaming revenue like Hollywood screenwriters. Their hard work goes unrewarded, severely dampening their creative enthusiasm.

Furthermore, the domestic screenwriters association is weak and unable to fight for the rights of practitioners through collective rights protection, industry rule constraints, and strikes, as the Writers Guild of America does.

Screenwriters working alone are always at a disadvantage when faced with capital, platforms, and directors. (End of Chapter)