Life Is Beautiful

Jessica stayed for one night and flew back to the United States the following day. Inside a lavish mansion in Washington, Chen Xiangmei was watching television. On the screen, a crowd of Detroit auto workers was marching in protest, waving various signs and wearing anti-Japanese shirts. Their faces flushed and necks corded, they bellowed at the top of their lungs: "Ford is heaven, Ford is earth, Ford forged the cosmos! Ford is heaven, Ford is earth, Ford is our daddy!" "Fools!" Chen Xiangmei let out a pitying sigh, finding the sight almost too painful to watch. "More and more auto workers are losing their jobs, and benefits for those still employed have been drastically slashed. The unions, the government, and the media are putting all the blame on Japanese cars invading America. And look how effective it is." "..." Jessica, who had just returned, stood quietly to the side without chiming in. She knew she only needed to listen. Sure enough, after venting her frustration, Chen Xiangmei dropped the subject and asked, "Xiaojuan, how did things go this time?" "The finished cut of *Orphan* is fantastic. It's easily strong enough to get a theatrical release in the States and pull in great numbers at the box office." Jessica Xiaojuan paused, pointed toward the television, and added, "If it opens in the middle of this anti-Japanese fervor, the box office will be even better." "You're that bullish on it?" Chen Xiangmei trusted her deeply and did not doubt her judgment. She smiled. "This truly is a marvel. The mainland has been shut off for decades, and the moment it cracks its doors open, out pops someone who actually sees the world as it is. How do they plan to distribute it?" "They want to sell the overseas rights and head to Cannes in May." "Mmh, a clever choice. Hollywood knows how to handle films like that. It seems the young man really has some skill and will rake in plenty of American dollars... By the way, what company did you say he's running now?" "The mainland's Ministry of Culture set up an enterprise dedicated to earning foreign exchange through cultural exports, and he's in charge of it." "Earning foreign exchange through movies. How interesting." Chen Xiangmei smiled. Jessica then produced another script. "Madam, this is their new project for this year. It requires some American actors, and they've asked for our help." "Have you read it?" "I have. It's exceptional." "Oh? Then I must read it as well. Set it here." Jessica set the script on the desk, took her leave, and departed. Chen Xiangmei glanced at it casually and saw the title written on the cover page: *Life Is Beautiful*. With so many matters demanding her attention, she didn't get around to it right away. It wasn't until late that night that she remembered it, leaning against her pillows in bed as she flipped through the pages. After reading partway through, her brow furrowed. Old Shanghai, Japanese troops... a war film? Why had Xiaojuan brought back an anti-Japanese war script? Not that war films couldn't be compelling, but China had produced countless ones since the founding of the republic. Their templates were fairly rigid and their quality uneven. They played decently within the socialist bloc, but they had virtually zero market in the Western world. How could that earn foreign exchange? She kept reading. A concentration camp, a Shanghai husband and wife, a young child, Americans, British, the rules of a game... "What audacity!" Chen Xiangmei slapped her thigh. This wasn't a conventional war script at all. It was an inventive tale that used comedic flair to convey cruelty and brutality, family love and human nature. She could sense the creator's immense ambition between the lines. For certain films, you knew they were destined for greatness just from their premise. Take race in *Green Book*, Nazis in *Schindler's List*, slavery in *12 Years a Slave*, the American Dream in *Forrest Gump*, medicine, defiance, and ordinary people in *Dying to Survive*, or simmering, sensual longing in *In the Mood for Love*... Simply isolate that premise, and it felt as though a "classic" label was already stamped upon it. Of course, there were occasional misfires—often tied to outsized public expectations colliding with bafflingly botched executions. No need to name names. All right, *The Great Wall*! *Full River Red*! Yet at this moment, the *Life Is Beautiful* in her hands exuded the distinct aura of a classic. "..." Chen Xiangmei closed the script, lost in thought. She loved the material and was eager to help, but back on the mainland, an anti-Japanese war film presented in comedic form was bound to face substantial resistance. * * * Cannes was set to open in May. Submissions closed in March, and the main competition lineup would be announced in April. *Orphan* was a co-production, and the Film Bureau on the mainland would never officially select that sort of film, so it had been submitted under Hong Kong Great Wall's banner. *Tai Chi 2*, on the other hand, cleared Film Bureau censorship and was submitted as an official mainland entry. At the same time Jessica carried the script for *Life Is Beautiful* back to the United States, Chen Qi submitted it to the Ministry of Culture. The production would require a large cast and crew, and certain scenes might even need planes and tanks. That required military cooperation, something he could never arrange on his own; coordination by higher authorities was essential. The original *Life Is Beautiful* came out in 1997, and even back then it had stirred up controversy, let alone in this era. Chen Qi knew full well that this script challenged the country's prevailing conception of war cinema. Roadblocks were inevitable. What was more, with the current push for "Sino-Japanese friendship," some people had genuinely bought into the illusion that all past enmity was forgotten, preaching about how different lands share the same wind and moon. * * * In the 1980s, Hong Kong's nightlife was booming, with nightclubs flourishing everywhere. A renowned establishment like the Tonnochy Club boasted over two hundred dance hostesses, along with Russian beauties. *Ghost* couldn't afford to rent the Tonnochy, so they settled on a smaller nightclub and had to schedule their shoot during daytime hours to steer clear of prime evening business. Right now, the club's interior was dimmed, illuminated only by moody stage lights to mimic nighttime. With the dance floor as the primary set, Tsui Hark had finished all the arrangements. Liu Dehua was dressed in a suit, while Zhong Chuhong wore a striking red dress. This scene depicted the male and female leads attending a class reunion. *Ghost* aimed for Western flair and chic, contemporary style, loaded with Western elements and modern professions. The male lead worked in banking, the female lead was an artist, and their former classmates were journalists, insurance agents, civil servants, lawyers, and entrepreneurial small-business owners. "Up on your toes, support your weight on the balls of your feet, and twist!" "Now your body, your hips, and your hands—twist them just like this... It's called the twist, so you've got to twist!" Beside the dance floor, an instructor was walking them through the steps. "Like this?" "Yes, exactly!" "We're worried we won't pull it off!" Liu Dehua and Zhong Chuhong weren't very confident, but the instructor kept encouraging them. "It feels stiff and awkward without the beat, but once the music kicks in, your bodies will know how to move." On the other side of the floor, Tsui Hark and Chen Qi were working out how to frame the shots. Two directors in Hong Kong had the finest eye for capturing women on screen: Tsui Hark and Wong Jing. Tsui had a singular knack for showcasing female beauty. Even someone as dead-eyed as Angelababy had been made to look captivating in *Young Detective Dee: Rise of the Sea Dragon*, let alone someone with the natural radiance of Zhong Chuhong. "The camera will face her directly, keeping her feet out of frame, capturing about three-quarters of her body from roughly this distance while she dances looking straight into the lens... Then the lighting will hit her like this..." Tsui Hark demonstrated the setup. Chen Qi smiled. "Looks great. Let's go with your vision." "The key is whether Ahong can nail the dance." "The twist is very simple. She won't have any problem." This twist was, naturally, the famous routine Uma Thurman and John Travolta danced in *Pulp Fiction*. Originating in 1950s America, its movements were straightforward, its rhythm breezy and infectious, and it had swept the world. After *Pulp Fiction* was released, countless films and television shows paid homage to that sequence. What was the difference between an homage and plagiarism? Put simply, if it didn't alter the story's core structure and served merely as an easter egg, it was an homage. If it directly drove the plot and was woven into the main narrative, it was plagiarism. And if you bought the rights, that was called localization. "How's the practice going?" Chen Qi came over to ask. "The movements themselves aren't too bad, but I don't know how it'll look once we're actually dancing," Liu Dehua said. "Yeah, I'm worried I won't find the right groove," Zhong Chuhong added. "Relax, don't worry about it," Chen Qi said. "We've got plenty of time today."