Chapter 11: Which Film Festival Should We Go To?

After completing the post-production of the film, Cao Yang first informed Teacher Situ, then notified Tian Zhuangzhuang and Hou Keming, the director of Qingying Studio.

Hou Keming was not only the director of Qingying Studio but also the vice dean of the academy, having been promoted from the directing department.

This film was officially a student practice project, part of the teaching curriculum. Once completed, it was definitely to be submitted for review under the name of Qingying Studio.

Of course, if it were to participate in various film festivals, it would be under the school's name.

Only a few people gathered to watch the screening, which was held in the school's small screening room.

Before the film began, out of courtesy, Hou Keming praised Teacher Situ, saying, “Your student is remarkable. To have made a feature film as a junior is impressive. His future is boundless.”

Teacher Situ smiled and replied, “It’s his first feature; I’m not sure how it turned out. I thought the script was quite simple. If he managed to follow the script well, that would be good enough.”

“I’ve read the script too. The story is somewhat straightforward, lacking a deeper exploration of human nature. But since it was completed, it can still be considered a decent narrative film.”

Hou Keming pondered for a moment, then lowered his voice and said, “Let’s see how it holds up. If it’s passable, we can send it to some smaller film festivals in Europe and South America. It would reflect the school’s support for its students; the tens of thousands spent shouldn’t go to waste.”

Hou Keming’s meaning was clear: the reason people invest tens of thousands is to build a solid résumé.

As long as the film was decent, he didn’t mind sending it to overseas small festivals to polish its reputation. Those festivals were quite tolerant of student films. Winning a few awards would benefit both the student and the school.

He was unaware that Cao Yang had the support of Teacher Situ to make this film, nor did he know that the funding came from Tian Zhuangzhuang, who secured it from a coal magnate.

Hou Keming had read the script and found the story somewhat simple and rudimentary, lacking in the illumination of human nature’s complexities or the probing of its darker aspects. It resembled an autobiographical film.

But for a junior student, completing a film and telling a clear story was already commendable.

Even if he didn’t value the film highly, since it was made by Teacher Situ’s student and involved Tian Zhuangzhuang for some mysterious reason, it was better to give it a good endorsement.

Xie Fei coughed lightly and said, “Let’s watch the film.”

Amid the mellow, deep cello music, the film began slowly.

At first, no one paid much attention. Five minutes in, Xie Fei was the first to let out a surprised “hmm,” straightening up in his seat.

Soon after, Teacher Situ also sat up attentively and began watching seriously.

Before long, Hou Keming’s initial indifference vanished; his face turned solemn as he fixed his gaze on the screen.

The plot was simple, without any gimmicks or dazzling editing techniques. The entire film unfolded like a straightforward narrative, easy to understand.

The 100-minute film ended quickly, and Cao Yang even heard a few deep breaths from the audience.

“Clap, clap, clap…”

Xie Fei was the first to applaud, followed by the others.

“Not bad!”

Teacher Situ looked at Cao Yang with approval. This young man hadn’t disappointed him. This wasn’t just about faithfully adapting the script; the plain plot could still stir emotions—that was true skill.

Moreover, the film was told from a female perspective. In Asia, it was hard to say how it would be received, but in Europe and America, such films were extremely popular. If the characters were well-developed, it was easier to gain the support of some jurors.

Was the lead actress’s performance good?

That was beyond doubt—brilliant!

“Who is this actress? She’s so spirited; the character truly comes alive,” Xie Fei praised.

Tian Zhuangzhuang winked at Cao Yang and gave a thumbs-up.

Though he was the cinematographer and played a role himself, this was his first time watching the finished product, as he hadn’t been involved in post-production.

As expected, Cao Yang hadn’t used flashy effects. For such a sparse plot, the story should be told plainly and honestly, which Cao Yang did very well.

Hou Keming’s eyes shone as if he had directed the film himself. He turned to Xie Fei and earnestly asked, “Teacher Xie, what do you think?”

Xie Fei was a leading figure of the fourth generation of directors, a Golden Bear winner at Berlin. In terms of cinematic artistry alone, Tian Zhuangzhuang was somewhat inferior to him.

On top of that, Xie Fei had already received internal news: the Berlin Film Festival had invited him to be a juror at the main competition of the 51st Berlin Film Festival next year. He was expected to depart for Berlin soon.

“The shooting style is very straightforward.”

Xie Fei smiled at Cao Yang, encouraging him, “Youth is your capital, and there’s plenty of room for growth.”

He meant that Cao Yang’s use of cinematic language was too simple.

Old Tian shot Cao Yang a glare. He had initially advised against so many long takes and simple push-pull shots, but Cao Yang hadn’t listened. They had argued for a long time.

For this, Old Tian even complained to Teacher Situ, hoping to take over the film, but was scolded and warned sternly.

“But the choice of lead actress is spot on! So spirited, it’s almost unbelievable. It doesn’t feel like acting; it’s as if she’s playing herself. What an excellent actress!” Xie Fei couldn’t help but marvel.

Hou Keming asked again, “Teacher Xie, if you set aside all other influences and were a juror, how would you vote?”

Xie Fei understood Hou Keming’s intention. After a brief silence, he said, “There’s a strong chance for Best Actress.”

Hou Keming slapped his thigh and stood up, asking, “What’s the deadline to register for the Berlin Film Festival main competition?”

“I think it’s November 8.”

“That’s just over twenty days away.”

Hou Keming calculated quickly, “The timeline is tight.”

Then he waved his hand dismissively, “No matter, tight or not, this film can’t possibly have any violations. I’ll talk to the dean. I’m not afraid of making calls one after another to push it through as soon as possible.”

As everyone reached the door, Hou Keming returned, patted Cao Yang on the shoulder, and said, “Cao Yang, well done, keep it up.”

He then turned to Teacher Situ, “Teacher Situ, your eye for talent is second to none.”

He gave a big thumbs-up.

“Teacher Xie, come with me to see the dean. Having you there will be more persuasive.”

Xie Fei didn’t refuse. Rising, he also patted Cao Yang on the shoulder and followed Hou Keming out.

Only the three of them—mentor and students—remained in the screening room.

Once everyone had left, Cao Yang quietly murmured to Teacher Situ, “Why rush to Berlin? The timing is too tight. I was originally thinking of aiming for next year’s Cannes.”

This was Cao Yang’s sincere thought. The Berlin and Venice Film Festivals already had Chinese Best Actress winners, but Cannes had yet to crown a Chinese Best Actress. It wasn’t until 2004 that Zhang Manyu won Best Actress at Cannes for the French film "Clean."

Cao Yang had hoped to strive for the first Chinese Best Actress at Cannes.

Tian Zhuangzhuang pursed his lips and said, “You should be content. Didn’t you see how excited Hou Keming was? For the school, the Berlin and Cannes Best Actress awards are among Europe’s top three; there’s no difference. If anything, the difference lies in which is easier to win and which better serves their political...”

Teacher Situ interrupted with a timely cough, stopping Tian Zhuangzhuang’s loose tongue, and explained to Cao Yang, “Even if Xie Fei didn’t serve as a juror, the school would probably prefer Berlin. Berlin is friendlier to Chinese-language films.”

He smiled and added, “Moreover, with Xie Fei on the jury this time, don’t underestimate his influence. Although he’s not the jury president, having won the Golden Bear makes him practically one of their own. His say is no less than the president’s.”

Tian Zhuangzhuang added, “Just keep that to yourself and enjoy the moment.”