One Last Try

Any martial arts film had to answer one fundamental question: what was the purpose of learning martial arts? From serving the nation and the people on a grand scale down to keeping fit and healthy on a personal one, even the shoddiest flick had to address this. It was the core theme of a martial arts movie; without it, the film lacked a backbone. Yang Luchan teaching disciples in the capital had carried no grandiose ambitions; he had simply wanted to propagate and elevate Tai Chi. But writing it like that wouldn't do—the scope was too narrow. It had to be elevated, so Chen Qi gave it loftier heights. Yang Luchan was born in 1799 and died in 1872. In his middle and later years, he lived through the reigns of three emperors—Daoguang, Xianfeng, and Tongzhi—the very era when the Great Qing was like a broken drum beaten by ten thousand hands, enduring the Opium Wars and the burning of the Old Summer Palace. Chen Qi drew upon this historical figure, but the story remained mostly fictionalized. He set the protagonist as a young man who traveled north to the capital, witnessed opium dens everywhere, a frail populace, and foreigners throwing their weight around, which inspired in him the conviction to "train the body to strengthen the nation." This was the film's thematic core. A movie was not a documentary. If one got pedantic about it, some of those late Qing and Republican-era martial artists were impossible to verify historically; the records were a tangled mix of truth and falsehood. It was just like the concept of "traditional martial arts" in later years, over which people would argue until they practically tore each other's brains out, with some fiercely mocking it and others swearing it was a lethal killing art... Chen Qi sketched out a framework and then moved on to character profiles. Male lead, female lead, supporting cast, villain, the clown responsible for comic relief, and so on. With each one he wrote, a corresponding actor practically took shape in his mind. When he reached the female lead, he paused. "The age gap is a bit large. Let me tweak it. The female lead has a congenital illness, and not wanting to burden anyone, she never considered marriage. But who would have thought she'd fall for this younger fellow? The protagonist also loves her gentleness, beauty, and refined grace... Huh?" Chen Qi scratched his head. Why was he projecting himself into it? *** "Achoo!" "Achoo!" Inside the special effects studio of Beijing Film Studio, Gong Xue, bundled in a thick military overcoat, sneezed twice. "Xiao Gong, are you all right?" Wang Haowei asked. "I'm fine, I'm fine, I can do it!" "Then let's keep shooting!" Gong Xue immediately shed the overcoat, revealing a purple dress. On her legs were stockings even thicker than thermal underwear. It was winter now, but the scenes in *Romance on Mount Lu* were set in summer. This particular scene was about the female lead being driven away by the male lead's sister, hiding in her room in heartbreak while torrential rain poured outside amid flashes of lightning and rolls of thunder... The set was arranged as the interior of a luxury suite. Gong Xue leaned by the window, where a potted flower sat on the sill. Overhead was a "sprinkler apparatus" specifically designed to create rain, pouring down with a sloshing roar, accompanied by powerful fans blowing fiercely and lights flickering to create the lightning effect... Such were the grassroots, homemade special effects of the era. "Good! That works!" "Get ready for the next scene!" Wang Haowei gave the order, sitting down in her chair and picking up the script. There were only eight scenes left; they could wrap up in three days. She recalculated the expenses, especially the film stock usage. Mm, just right. Shooting films these days came with a strictly rationed allowance of film stock. Based on the storyboard script, they calculated roughly how many shots were needed. For instance, if *Romance on Mount Lu* had a finished runtime of 90 minutes, Wang Haowei was given enough stock for 270 minutes of footage—a shooting ratio of 1:3. For less seasoned directors, the ratio was 1:2.5. If the film wasn't finished and the stock ran out, the director had to figure it out themselves. So one could easily imagine just how much people would come to hate Jiang Wen! While shooting was underway, Chen Qi crept in quietly. As the screenwriter, he had to drop by from time to time. Wang Haowei waved him over and asked, "Haven't seen you in days. Word is you were in seclusion?" "No, just looking up some materials. I've been writing a new script lately." "Martial arts?" "Yeah!" "I really don't know why you're so fixated on martial arts. Wasting your fine talent on something like that." Wang Haowei shook her head and said, "We'll finish shooting in a couple of days. I'll host dinner at my place. You all come over, call it a wrap party." "You mean one of us brings wine, one brings vegetables, one brings meat, and you just steam a pot of rice?" "Nothing decent ever comes out of that mouth of yours! But if you want to bring something, go right ahead—who doesn't know you're our little man of wealth!" Wang Haowei rolled her eyes at him and paid him no more mind. Chen Qi chuckled, sat for a while, and idly flipped through the production schedule. Sure enough, only eight scenes left. One of them was where the female lead mistakenly believed the male lead's father could not accept her, grabbed her luggage, and was about to leave, only to be stopped at the door by the male lead's family. The father told her she was a good girl, yada yada yada, and gave his blessing to the marriage... All along, Chen Qi hadn't commented on the actors' stage-play style of acting, because that was a hallmark of the era. But seeing that they were nearing the end, trying something new wouldn't hurt. *** Gong Xue hadn't seen Chen Qi for days and was delighted to see him. She considered him a good friend—a talented young comrade who could teach her so much. If she had to pinpoint anything different, it was that in front of him, she would unconsciously relax. She really liked that feeling. When a man can make a woman relax, she needs to watch out! When a woman can make a man relax, the going rate is eighteen hundred! Just as Wang Haowei called for a break, Gong Xue walked over bundled in her military overcoat and asked with a smile, "Did Director Wang say we're having dinner at her place?" "She did. She also said you should bring some meat and vegetables, I'll be in charge of bringing a fish, and Old Tang can bring an excavator." "Nonsense again! Director Wang would never say that." Gong Xue sat down beside him, paused, and turned her head. "Why does Old Tang have to bring an excavator?" "Exactly! You guys bring food, so why am I bringing an excavator?" Tang Guoqiang walked over as well. "I'm just talking nonsense! Why would there be a reason?" Chen Qi hadn't seen him in a while either. Sizing him up, Chen Qi teased, "Look at you—eyes full of romantic glow, high spirits, though your steps are a bit light and floaty. Married life treating you well, huh?" "Good grief, young comrade, what are you blabbering about! Where is your sense of propriety? Where is your decency?" Tang Guoqiang covered his face and made a hasty retreat. Chen Qi was thoroughly amused. He had developed a quirky habit lately: whenever he saw a celebrity, he felt the urge to tease them, regardless of age or gender—he even dared to banter with Wang Yang. "I want to discuss something with you..." Having chased Tang Guoqiang away, Chen Qi picked up the call sheet, pointed to that scene, and said, "*Romance on Mount Lu* is wrapping up soon. For the finale, could we be a little bold and try a new way of acting?" "Am I not doing well right now?" Gong Xue's first reaction was that her performance was lacking, and she asked anxiously. "No, you're already doing great. I'm just saying we could experiment. For example, in this scene, you think things are over between you and Geng Hua, so you pack your bags to head back to America. Suddenly, his whole family shows up at your door, and his father actually approves of your marriage and even tells you to call him 'Dad.' Hmm..." Chen Qi paused for a second. Why did that sound so weird? "This emotion could be explosive: you shout 'Dad!' at the top of your lungs and throw yourself into his arms. Or it could be something else—showing a progressive build-up. First uncertainty and hesitation, followed by joy, and only then bursting out in tears." "This..." Gong Xue knitted her delicate brows. It sounded so difficult. "If you think it's too hard, you don't have to do it; you can just go straight to the outburst." "You don't need to provoke me. I've got the guts. I just don't know how to act it out." "Simple. Just remember a few facial cues. When hesitant, let your eyes flicker with uncertainty. When joyful, smile, but at the same time let tears fall—pat-pat-pat, rolling down like pearls. And finally, let out that cry." "How is that simple at all? How can I control when my tears fall?" Gong Xue's eyes widened. "You can!" Chen Qi smiled. "Have you forgotten what I taught you? Just remember that feeling from that night..."