You Can't Give Him What He Wants

"When you look for material conditions, there are none; when you look for spiritual conditions, everything remains hazy. People can only cling to a few basic doctrines, much like *Return of the Swallows*. But that mindset easily runs into a dead end and leads some people astray." "How so?" "If we can't find values or cultural identity in the contemporary era, we have no choice but to look backward—to the Republican era, the late Qing dynasty, feudal society..." Chen Qi spoke with easy confidence. "In my personal view, we're likely to see a flood of films set in the old society and feudal eras down the road. Whether that's good or bad isn't something I can judge right now, nor do I claim to know much about it. "All I'm saying is that while *Tai Chi* is also set in the late Qing, it's a martial arts film. Anyone can understand a martial arts film, and its theme is simple: punish evil and promote good, practice martial arts to strengthen the body, and thereby empower the nation. "I think wrapping a straightforward, upright theme in elements the vast majority of people can understand is best suited to our current environment." "..." Fu Chi listened intently. "Last year, I watched *Moonraker*—in Hong Kong, they translate 007 as 'Iron Bond,' so it was called *Iron Bond Braves the Space City*," he remarked. "Its premise was just as simple: a British secret agent foils a villain's plot and saves the world. "Yet it was packaged as pure entertainment. I must admit even I loved watching it. "That aligns very closely with what Xiao Chen said—wrapping a simple theme in content anyone can grasp. I've had quite a bit of exposure to Western cinema, and almost all of their commercial films operate on that principle. "If we truly want to build bridges, a film like this is far more suitable than *Return of the Swallows*." "Yet they get to compete, while we can only participate in the exhibition," Chen Qi said with a smile. "A tower ten thousand feet tall begins from the ground up, and going from zero to one is always fraught with hardship. Still, I agree wholeheartedly with your perspective. *Wrong Turn* has already proven its worth, so let's collaborate more in the future." Fu Chi viewed him with even greater esteem. Not only could the young man write screenplays, but he could also think with such depth and had formulated his own theory. Broadly speaking, this touched upon strategic questions regarding the development of cinema. "That's right, we should stay in close touch. You're already calling us Uncle and Auntie," Shi Hui remarked with a warm smile. "What are you two doing, poaching right in front of me?!" Wang Yang grumbled, displeased. "Xiao Chen doesn't even belong to your Beijing Film Studio. How can you call it poaching?" Fu Chi countered. "He'll be part of our studio sooner or later!" "That remains to be seen!" "All right, all right, hear me out..." With a solemn look on his face, Chen Qi said earnestly, "To be honest, I don't belong to either side. I'm just a vendor selling large-bowl tea." *Oh, please!* "What is large-bowl tea?" Fu Mingxian asked curiously. "Large-bowl tea tastes even better with roast duck! I'll take you out for some another day. It comes in a bowl this big—bigger than your head!" "Wow! I want to drink it, I want to drink it!" The table was lively. The conversation was carried mainly by Wang Yang, Fu Chi, Shi Hui, and Chen Qi, with Fu Mingxian keeping the mood light. Li Wenhua and Gong Xue merely sat along as companions, unable to get a word in edgewise. Afterward, the four put their heads together to discuss distribution. February 4 was Chinese New Year's Eve, and the Berlin International Film Festival opened on February 13. The leftist camp enjoyed substantial autonomy and was not bound by China Film's control. They would first import *Tai Chi* for theatrical release in Hong Kong, which coincided perfectly with the Lunar New Year slot. After running for a period, it would be taken to Berlin alongside *Wrong Turn* to sell overseas rights. That gave rise to two issues: how to handle promotion in Hong Kong, and how to handle promotion in Berlin. Because Chen Qi and Li Wenhua definitely had to travel abroad; *Tai Chi* had to be sold through Beijing Film Studio's hands, or all the effort would have been in vain. "Director Li and I, plus Li Lianjie and Gong Xue—those four slots are the bare minimum; we can't do with any fewer. If we can go to Hong Kong for promotion, I hope we can get a few more spots so Yu Hai, Yu Chenghui, and the others can join as well. That way, we can organize some events and make a much bigger splash." "Hong Kong matters are overseen by Liao Gong. Let me think..." After a moment of contemplation, Fu Chi said, "How about this: we'll officially invite you all to Hong Kong to attend the premiere. I'll screen the film for Liao Gong. If the elder likes it, you won't even need to ask—he'll throw his full support behind it." "The key is that the film has to be good. Do you have confidence in it?" Shi Hui asked. "Ha!" Hearing that, Wang Yang burst into laughter. "We already have a rough cut ready. Once we finish eating, I'll take you over. You'll know whether it's good the moment you see it." ... Inside the small auditorium. *Tai Chi* made its debut in a 120-minute cut. Post-production was not yet fully complete, and it would be trimmed down further in due course. Even so, Fu Chi and Shi Hui were already applauding enthusiastically. "I watch every hit movie that comes out in Hong Kong," Fu Chi said. "Martial arts films have always been a staple. Jackie Chan has pioneered his own style now and become the biggest action star, while countless other rivals are rising alongside him." Fu Chi sighed softly, still savoring the experience. "Yet apart from Bruce Lee's *Fist of Fury*, which carried a touch of national sentiment, the rest are just about personal grudges and jianghu vendettas. Your *Tai Chi* is likely the very first to put forward practicing martial arts to strengthen the body and empower the nation. "The action choreography is superb as well—even I found it refreshing. Especially storming the pagoda at the end—exhilarating, simply exhilarating!" "The scenery is beautifully shot, and the actors are gorgeous," Shi Hui added with a smile. "All right, all right, any more praise and I'll start blushing. In any case, we know it's a solid picture. But will Liao Gong be satisfied?" "Without a doubt! Step up your post-production work." As Fu Chi spoke, he suddenly shot Wang Yang a meaningful look, gesturing subtly toward someone. Wang Yang cleared his throat and said, "Xiao Chen, run over to my office desk and grab that file on *Tai Chi*. I forgot to bring it with me." "Sure thing!" Chen Qi stepped out of the small auditorium, yawned, and squatted down against the base of a wall. You had to read between the lines. What file? They obviously just wanted to discuss something they couldn't say in front of him. If he had actually been dim enough to trot over and then return saying, "Director, there wasn't anything there!"—that would be utterly foolish. Inside, Fu Mingxian grew impatient with the adults talking. "I'm going outside to play!" "Don't wander too far!" "Okay!" Once she left, Fu Chi said, "Old Director, there's no need for pleasantries between the two of us. I'll get straight to the point. I think Xiao Chen is exceptional. I'd like to apply to have him transferred to Hong Kong. What do you think?" "Haha!" Surprisingly, Wang Yang didn't push back with hostility. Instead, he burst into hearty laughter and asked, "I had that exact same thought long ago. But guess why he's still only on temporary loan and hasn't officially joined Beijing Film Studio?" "Could it be that he isn't willing himself?" Shi Hui asked. "Spot on! He really isn't willing!" "Well, that's bizarre. Don't tell me his true calling in life is selling large-bowl tea?" "Sigh. I had a talk specifically with him once, and you two would never guess what the kid said..." Wang Yang let out a sigh. "He said the studio system is too rigid, like an old vat of fermented paste—rife with seniority hierarchies and petty politicking. He refused to waste his youth in it." "Even with your backing, that wasn't enough?" "Not enough! I wanted to give him three years to hone his craft, but he thought three years was too long—a waste of time. He wants total control over a film, from start to finish: production, distribution, director, cast—everything decided by him and him alone. "I couldn't grant him that level of authority, so he refused to join. "You want him? Can you give him that?" "..." Fu Chi and Shi Hui fell silent. Although the leftist camp enjoyed greater freedom, they still couldn't hand absolute power over life and death on a film project to a twenty-year-old youth. Truth be told, Chen Qi's track record was still too thin. If he had an illustrious string of triumphs behind him, the likelihood would have been far higher. As the Chinese saying went: special circumstances call for special measures! "Nothing is absolute," Fu Chi remarked. "We may not be able to give him a hundred percent authority, but we might give him fifty percent, or even seventy. Everything takes time. Still, hearing you say all this makes me want to observe him closely and see just where this kid's ambitions truly lie!"