Teacher Chen

Many people harbor a misconception that actors of the older generation had poor acting skills. In truth, their skills were not poor at all. They were simply constrained by the narrow scope of films and character archetypes of their time: righteous figures were eternally righteous, treacherous villains were eternally treacherous, and Japanese devils were eternally Japanese devils. Yet when given the opportunity to stretch their range, the results were astonishing. Take Chen Qiang, for instance. The old gentleman single-handedly created two monumental villains: Huang Shiren and Nan Batian. By rights, his image should have been cast in stone, but later in life he teamed up with his son, Chen Peisi, for a series of comedy films. And just like that, audiences were treated to an utterly delightful, funny old man—a complete departure from his earlier persona. Another example was Feng Enhe. He had spent decades playing upstanding, positive characters before landing the role of Station Chief Wu in *Lurk*, immediately delivering iconic lines like, "Mount Emei's peak, and a solo portrait at that? Positively dripping with romanticism!" To be a truly good actor, talent and hard work were both indispensable. Gong Xue had never received formal conservatory training. Having only played bit parts in a drama troupe and appeared in a single film, she was deficient in nearly every department aside from her striking looks. The moment Wang Haowei called a halt, she panicked, asking anxiously, "Director, was my walk wrong?" "It's not about how you're walking. You've got the hang of the high heels now, and your steps are steady enough..." Wang Haowei paused to organize her thoughts before continuing. "It's the feeling. It's off. You look like a mainland girl pretending to be an overseas Chinese, not like someone genuinely back from America to tour the sights. Take some time to get into character, and we'll try again shortly." "Right, of course!" Gong Xue hastily pulled out her script, found a rock to sit on, and began turning the scene over in her mind. Acting, however, was not something that came simply because one willed it. Intuitive grasp mattered immensely; not everyone was born a Zhou Xun. After a while, they reset for another rehearsal. "Three, two, one, action!" "Cut!" This take lasted two minutes. Wang Haowei felt it was slightly better, but she remained unsatisfied. Walking over, she said, "Come on, let's break this down together." Wang Haowei sat down on the rock beside her and talked through it patiently. "When we met to discuss the character, didn't we go over all sorts of details? You understood it well enough back then, so why does it fall flat once the camera rolls? The problem right now is that the marks of your performance are too obvious. Your gestures and movements feel unnatural." "I'm sorry, Director!" "It's fine. This is only the first day of shooting. You don't have much experience, so it's entirely normal that you can't ease into the role right away. There's no rush; we'll give you time to figure it out." Wang Haowei kept an even temper. In this era, filmmaking moved at a deliberate pace, with scenes ground out little by little. Everyone was accustomed to it. After a few more run-throughs that still failed to produce the desired result, she decided to switch gears and shoot Tang Guoqiang's coverage instead. Chen Qi watched the whole process, utterly dumbfounded. They had set out at the crack of dawn, dressed the set, rehearsed, fussed around, rested, rehearsed again, and when it finally came time for an official take, they captured just one single setup: Tang Guoqiang sitting on Pillow Stream Rock reading a book. At five in the afternoon, it was a wrap! Why wrap so early? Because cloud cover had rolled in, blotting out the sun. The light had dimmed, making it impossible to shoot. In those days, location shoots were entirely at the mercy of natural lighting. *Holy smokes!* *In the future, only Wong Kar-wai and Hou Hsiao-hsien would dare shoot like this!* Chen Qi helped haul gear back, noting that everyone else took it completely in stride, thoroughly unbothered. Returning to the hotel, they ate dinner, and with that, the day's duties were finished. This kind of film-crew lifestyle felt bizarrely unfamiliar to him. In his previous life, when pulling a production together, he had juggled duties as screenwriter and producer alike, running ragged twenty-four hours a day without a second to spare, let alone downtime to call high-end escorts. Still, leisure was nice in its own way. It gave him time to work on his wuxia—or rather, his martial arts novel... *Knock, knock, knock!* Around seven o'clock, as Chen Qi was scribbling away, a sudden rap came at the door. He walked over and opened it to find Wang Haowei standing outside with Gong Xue. "Director Wang, did you need something?" "You saw how things went during the day. I was thinking of putting our heads together to help Xiao Gong find the right feeling as soon as possible." "..." Chen Qi glanced toward Gong Xue. She caught his eye and shrank back slightly in embarrassment. "Oh, absolutely. Please, come on in!" Wang Haowei stepped into the room, cast an appraising eye around, and smiled. "Xiao Chen, you keep your place quite tidy." "It's more comfortable this way. Can't let it become a sty." He started to pull the door shut, hesitated, and left it cracked open a sliver. The room had only one chair. Wang Haowei, sensible and considerate, sat directly on the edge of the bed, leaving the chair for Gong Xue. She was thirty-nine, a director, and married; there was no reason to invite idle gossip. "You witnessed today's situation. I talked it over with Xiao Gong earlier, but it still felt unsatisfactory. As the character's creator, what are your thoughts?" "You mean regarding today's scene?" "Yes. Xiao Gong's performance." "Uh, do you want my honest opinion?" "Well, obviously! Did you think I came here to trade pleasantries?" "..." Chen Qi shot Gong Xue a glance, then dispassionately rattled off his critique: "Stiff! Unnatural! Lacking realism! Utterly devoid of the heroine's inner spirit and presence!" With every word that fell from his lips, Gong Xue's face grew a shade paler. Twisting her fingers together, she quietly hung her head. "Be specific!" Wang Haowei urged. "You stayed in a hotel for foreigners for a week, observing how overseas Chinese talk and carry themselves, and then you tried to imitate them... But in my personal view, imitation belongs in prep work. It's best not to bring it onto the set. "When you imitate an overseas Chinese, are the audience watching you, or the caricature you're mimicking? "An actor's own distinct qualities are vital. Absorb what you observed into yourself, and latch onto a single core anchor. For instance: confidence." "Confidence?" Gong Xue lifted her head, blinking softly, looking thoroughly chastened and a little pitiful. "Think about those overseas Chinese you saw. Didn't every single one of them hold their heads high and walk with their chests out, brimming with superiority? Because we're poor and they're wealthy, of course they feel superior. But you cannot play that superiority directly, or you'll come across as obnoxious. What you can project instead is confidence. "Think about her background: your father was a Nationalist officer, you grew up in comfort in the United States, and you received a higher education. You rode up the mountain in a private car, you're staying in a luxury suite at the Mount Lu Hotel, and you have an entire staff catering to your every need! "How could you possibly lack confidence? "You carry virtually no gloomy or somber baggage; everything about you is vibrant and upward-looking. If you bring that across, the character's inner spirit will naturally shine through." "Keep going! Keep going!" Wang Haowei pressed. Chen Qi would never have voiced these thoughts unprompted, but with Wang Haowei's blessing, he continued without reservation. "To convey that, you don't need to overcomplicate things. First, you must keep your chin up, your chest high, and smile readily. Second, take larger strides when you walk." "Larger strides?" Gong Xue blinked, startled. "Just like this..." Chen Qi stood up and stepped into the center of the room. Pointing down at his own trousers, he said, "You're wearing flared trousers with wide cuffs. If your steps are too small, the fabric gets tangled up around your legs and looks terribly awkward. "Take bigger strides, and let the heels carry real presence. "Like that crisp *clack! clack! clack!* "That decisive strike of the heel against the floor. "And then there's the purse..." Chen Qi snatched up his canvas bag and slung it over one shoulder like a Louis Vuitton tote. Wearing a pair of beat-up slippers as if they were Hermès slides, he held his head high, arched his chest, swung his hips with exaggerated flair, and strutted forward with bold, rhythmic strides—*clack, clack, clack*~ Objectively speaking, his experience carrying a woman's handbag far exceeded that of most women in this era. Most women today wouldn't even know how to hold an imported designer purse to make it look flattering. "You walk up like this, step onto the bridge, and then you spot Pillow Stream Rock. Wow—wonderment! A brilliant smile breaks across your face, and ideally you let out a silvery, melodic laugh—*tee-hee-hee-hee*..." *Pfft!* Gong Xue couldn't hold it in any longer, clapping a hand over her mouth as laughter bubbled out. Wang Haowei broke into a hearty belly laugh. "And aren't you supposed to take photos? Remember, what you're holding is an instant camera." *(Instant cameras had existed for quite some time, and this one had also been purchased in Hong Kong.)* "Who on the mainland has ever seen one of those? But to you, a wealthy young heiress, it's just a plaything. You need to handle it with absolute familiarity, treat it almost casually..." Chen Qi looked at her with encouragement in his eyes. "The script is merely the foundation; your personal interpretation is what builds the house. Once you step before the lens, you are the master of this character. Don't let the role master you. "Who is Zhou Yun? "The part was given to you, which means you *are* Zhou Yun. Starting tomorrow, put on those beautiful clothes, wear that chic Western-style hat, carry your camera, and go enjoy the sights without overthinking a single thing... What does it mean to find the feeling? That right there is the feeling!" *Hiss!* Wang Haowei remained wide-eyed in astonishment for several seconds, savoring the long string of insights he had just delivered. Unlike the typical production meetings packed with abstract analyses and calls to 'deeply internalize the role,' his words were grounded, plain, and tightly reasoned. He had broken down the scene layer by layer with absolute clarity! "Xiao Chen! Where on earth did you pick up all this knowledge? I've been making movies for over a decade, and I couldn't have articulated it half as well!" "No, no, you flatter me, Director. I just love watching movies—if not ten thousand, then easily eight thousand of them. Plus, I read widely and like to let my imagination wander. It's all just stuff I've pondered on my own." "Ten thousand? Why don't you claim you've flown to the moon while you're at it?" Wang Haowei clicked her tongue in wonder. Before meeting a true prodigy, one never really knew what a prodigy looked like. If a talent like this were brought into Beijing Film Studio... *hiss!* "..." Gong Xue stared at him without blinking, a storm of emotion surging within her. He was so young, yet he understood so much. Most importantly, he explained things in a way she could truly grasp, practically guiding her hand through every step of the performance. Her greatest dread had always been having no sense of direction, completely lost as to how to act... *What an extraordinary person!*