Huayu: Serious director, who's eavesdropping on your thoughts?

"Mr. Han, please!"

Zhang Huijun led Han Sanping to the center of the first row, where a nameplate was placed on a small table.

Everyone sat down in turn.

The lights in the entire venue dimmed, and a spotlight shone on the stage.

Two student hosts dressed in formal attire walked onto the stage.

"Respected leaders, distinguished guests, dear teachers, and students, good evening!"

"In the golden autumn of September, as light and shadow intertwine, in this season of harvest, we gather here to witness the grand opening of the 2nd International Student Film and Television Exhibition..."

..

After the host announces the program, the leader takes the stage and gives a brief speech.

The lights dimmed, and the big screen slowly lit up.

The opening ceremony screening has officially begun.

Han Sanping remained expressionless. He was already in a bad mood tonight and wanted to see what tricks these people could pull.

Behind him, Zhao Xiaoyu and Peng Xiaohua sat upright, staring nervously at Han Sanping.

The first short film screened was titled "The Earth Is Silent," a joint graduation project by senior students from the Beijing Film Academy.

The screen lights up.

There is no plot and no dialogue.

The camera focused on an old farmer with a wrinkled face on the Loess Plateau, gazing at him for several minutes.

The background sounds were the howling of sand and the occasional heavy sigh.

Depressing, long, and tedious.

This is a typical realist style, pursuing a so-called original state and the aesthetics of suffering.

Five minutes passed, and the old farmer was still squatting there smoking his pipe.

Ten minutes passed, and the scene cut to a dilapidated cave dwelling. It was still a long, static shot, and not even a chicken ran past it.

"Is this frozen? Why isn't the screen moving?" Zhao Xiaoyu asked.

"You don't understand, this should be art, right?" Peng Xiaohua was more knowledgeable than the other person, but she wasn't sure if it was stuck or what.

Meanwhile, a slight commotion began to rise in the audience.

Many people began to whisper among themselves.

Zhao Xiaoyu had never seen such a high-class art film before. Her eyelids were drooping, and her head was bobbing up and down like a chick pecking at rice. She almost fell asleep several times.

Peng Xiaohua, sitting to the side, was also restless. He felt like he had a nail in his buttocks, and he was trying hard to suppress the urge to yawn. His big eyes darted around, and he simply looked away from the big screen to search for the stars in the audience.

Finally, the movie ended.

The applause was sparse.

The lights came on, and the short film's creator and director went on stage for a Q&A session.

The host, with a professional smile, asked:

"Director Ye, congratulations on the screening of your film. We noticed that there are a lot of long takes and blank spaces in the film, and there is even a five-minute close-up of an old man squatting. How did you come up with the idea? What message did you want to convey to the audience?"

Director Ye took the microphone and remained silent for a full five seconds.

Just when everyone thought the microphone was broken, he spoke.

"Actually... I didn't have any specific plans. It's just that at that moment, I felt like I wasn't making a movie, but rather having a dialogue with the land beneath my feet."

He stretched out one hand, as if grasping something indescribable.

"What everyone sees is just an old man squatting there, but in my eyes, nothing is still. There's a wind blowing, blowing across the wrinkles on his face, representing the passage of time."

As for that five-minute long take... actually, the cinematographer asked me if I wanted to yell "cut," and I said no.

Why did they yell "cut"? I don't know if anyone noticed the fly on the old man's shoulder. It rubbed its legs and then flew away.

In that instant, the line between life and death blurred. The fly was no longer just a fly; it was the only flowing desire. The moment it flew away, it took away the last bit of life from the old man, leaving only pure, unplaceable loneliness.

And then there are cave dwellings, do you know that feeling? It's like a thousand-year-old dry well, you want to shout, but no sound comes out.

After saying that, he closed his eyes affectionately, seemingly deeply moved by his own words.

The audience was completely silent.

Then, a few lower-grade students, who were still confused, clapped a few times to cover up their embarrassment.

Han Sanping sat in the audience, listening to these mysterious words, and the corner of his mouth twitched involuntarily.

Does a fly rubbing its legs signify life or death?

If the flies don't fly away, will this movie have to stay on all night?

He turned to look at Dean Zhang beside him and said, "Is this the kind of profound knowledge you've taught? Has this kid gone mad with greed?"

Pierre Reis, the international chief jury member and Cannes Film Festival programmer, sat in the front row and gave a meaningful smile.

"Touchant"

Pierre looked at Han Sanping and said:

"Mr. Han, I congratulate you. It seems that your country has not been polluted by the superficial commercial atmosphere of Hollywood. Your students still retain a precious sense of originality."

"In our country, we were worried that you were developing too fast, with skyscrapers everywhere, and that you had lost that unique Eastern mystery and aesthetic of hardship. But after seeing this film, I feel relieved."

This gaze upon poverty, this slow, almost still rhythm—this is the authentic Chinese culture we want to see. Han, you should preserve this rustic charm. I swear I will make this kind of film win an award!

Han Sanping did not respond, and his expression was unpleasant.

This sounds like a compliment, but it's actually sarcastic and even more offensive than cursing someone in their face!

So in your eyes, foreigners, we're only fit to film the yellow earth, tattered cotton-padded jackets, and gloomy faces?

Once we try to shoot something modern, industrial, or commercial, it loses its original flavor.

This is blatant and rigid positioning!

In their eyes, Chinese filmmakers don't need brains or skills; all they need to do is expose their wounds to foreigners and win cheap sympathy votes!

On what grounds?!

He was about to retort when he saw Dean Zhang, who was sitting to the side, take over the conversation.

"Mr. Pierre, you flatter me. Our teaching philosophy at Beijing Film Academy has always been rooted in the local culture and focused on the humanities."

While the short film I just saw was technically somewhat immature, its dedication to exploring suffering and analyzing human nature is something we've always encouraged. Commercial films, after all, tend to be a bit superficial and not up to par.

Dean Zhang's words were perfectly balanced and flawless.

After he finished speaking, he habitually stole a glance at Han Sanping.

He found that the other person didn't even look at him, and his face was very ugly, radiating an aura that kept strangers at bay.

Dean Zhang's heart skipped a beat.

Oh no! Did we make a wrong judgment?

He originally thought that President Han was here today to support the school and, incidentally, to show what Eastern spirit is all about in front of international friends.

But now it seems...

As the head of the hospital, Zhang Huijun was an extremely shrewd person, and he immediately sensed that something was amiss.

He had prepared a long speech on the narrative of suffering and humanistic care, hoping to impress his superiors.

Provoked by Han Sanping's cold face, they swallowed their words.

Han Sanping spoke up.

"Being rooted in the land is correct, but buildings and roads also need to be built on that land."

Ordinary people pay to go to the movies not to receive education, much less to relive past suffering.

If we only focus on the past, who will record the changes of the present? Who will envision the future?

Pierre shrugged and spread his hands:

"Oh, Han, creating dreams is Hollywood's job. Those are just products of an industrial assembly line, soulless. What you possess is soul, that's the highest level. Why throw away diamonds to pick up glass?"

"..."

Han Sanping took a deep breath and swallowed the profanity that was about to come out.

There's no point in arguing when you don't see eye to eye.

"Next up, please welcome the submission from the University of Southern California—'Cyberspace'."

"Boom!"

The opening scene features a huge explosion sound effect.

The audience members who had been dozing off were instantly jolted awake.

In the scene, a uniquely designed futuristic flying car speeds through a neon-lit futuristic city, with robotic guards hot on its heels.

The laser beams and particle effects were truly dazzling.

It only took about ten minutes.

The audience was silent.

Everyone was stunned by this pure audiovisual bombardment.

There are no tricks or techniques, only highly pure, high-tech special effects that are dazzling and have a strong visual impact!

Sitting on the second floor, Guo Lili was so excited she was almost incoherent:

"OMG! This is so beautiful! And these were taken by students? It's unbelievable! It's like a dream!"

Jiang Yan rolled her eyes at her, calling her a country bumpkin.

Zhang Jian couldn't laugh.

He stared intently at the big screen.

As a senior directing student, he understood the meaning of this short film better than anyone else.

This isn't just good-looking; it's utterly crushing, a devastating blow at an industrial level!

They don't play those fancy tricks with you; they go straight for special effects, bombarding your senses and shattering your soul.

Simple and rude!

The film has ended.

The lights came on.

A murmur of shock rippled through the crowd.

A student director from USC took to the stage.

"This film was actually just our midterm project for the second semester of our sophomore year."

He shrugged, his tone flat, as if he were talking about something trivial:

"The cost was about 500,000 US dollars. When we were creating it, we weren't thinking about expressing any profound philosophy, nor were we looking for any roots."

We only care about making it entertaining, because at our school, movies are first and foremost industrial products, and only secondly art. If we can't even make a decent product, what kind of art are we talking about?

I just watched your country's work, and you're still insisting on shooting with DV cameras and natural light. I must say, that's very interesting. This kind of raw, unfiltered approach was very popular in Ouzhou decades ago, but at USC, we focus more on how to use technology to serve our audience.

After he finished speaking, he bowed and stepped off the stage.

Throughout the entire presentation, he made no sarcastic remarks; he simply stated a fact calmly.

But it is precisely this understated approach that has the greatest destructive power.

A student's work cost 50 US dollars?

The gap is too big.

It was so immense that it left one with no energy left to be jealous, only despair.

Most of the industry insiders present shared this view and remained silent, while only some laymen watched the spectacle with excitement and continued to discuss it.

Dean Zhang glanced at Han Sanping again.

Ruined.

This was the first thought that popped into his mind.

Following that, the film "Silent Seine" by the French National Museum of France began as the third film to be screened.

on the screen.

A mime artist in a tuxedo moved a bathtub to the city's busiest intersection.

He sat in the bathtub, holding a fishing rod without a line, intently fishing in the air.