dkrc Chapter 17: Taking it upon myself
Chapter 17: Taking it upon myself
Teacher Yu recommended Cheng Er again. On the day Cheng Er rejected him, it rained lightly in Beijing.
Liu Yu arranged to meet Cheng Er at the coffee shop at the north gate of the school. He arrived half an hour early and neatly arranged the script, proposal, and copies of the actors' contracts on the table.
He ordered an Americano, without sugar, took a sip, and frowned at the bitterness.
Cheng Er arrived on time, wearing a gray windbreaker, his hair wet from the rain, strands clinging to his forehead.
After sitting down, he didn't exchange pleasantries, but immediately opened the script and pointed to several scenes in the third act, expressing his opinions.
As Liu Yu listened, he took notes. Cheng Er's approach to handling the female protagonist's amnesia was similar to what Teacher Xue had described: compress, compress again, don't drag it out, be ruthless.
Cheng Er went into more detail, even drawing a simple emotional curve for Liu Yu, indicating what kind of reaction each scene should evoke in the audience.
"Your script doesn't need major structural changes, but two scenes in the third act need to be cut." Cheng Er closed the script and pushed it back to Liu Yu. "After the revisions, will the investors accept it?"
Liu Yu said he could, but he was already starting to plan how to make the changes.
Then he asked a question that had been on his mind for a long time: "Director Cheng, if the script is finished, would you be willing to direct it?"
Cheng Er was silent for a while, picked up his coffee cup, took a sip, put it down, and looked at Liu Yu.
There was hesitation, apology, and a sense of helplessness in his eyes—a feeling of wanting to help but being unable to.
"Liu Yu, to be honest with you," Cheng Er said softly, "I think your script is very good. The theme is good, the characters are good, and the emotions are genuine. But it's not suitable for me to direct."
Why?
"Because I'm not very good at making romance films." Cheng Er leaned back in his chair, his hands clasped in front of his chest, as if carefully choosing his words. "I like restrained, detached films with a slow narrative pace, lots of white space, a retro feel, a strong sense of destiny, and a literary style of suspense. You put so much effort into writing this script, it shouldn't be handed over to someone who isn't good at this type of film."
Liu Yu opened his mouth, as if to say something, but Cheng Er waved his hand and continued, "I'm planning to shoot my own script next year. I've been working on that script for a long time, and I want to make it into a film to prove myself. If I take on your film, I'll have to dedicate at least a year to it, and I don't know when my script will be finished."
Liu Yu fell silent.
He can't blame Cheng Er. Cheng Er has his own pursuits and projects, and he doesn't want to delay his own work for someone else's film, which is perfectly normal.
"Director Cheng, I understand." Liu Yu extended his hand. "We'll have the opportunity to work together again in the future."
Cheng Er grasped his hand. "Liu Yu, if you can't find a suitable director, why don't you do it yourself?"
Liu Yu was taken aback: "You do it yourself?"
"You're the screenwriter, you understand this story best." Cheng Er's expression was serious. "You're also the producer, the budget, the team, and distribution are all in your hands. Directing, in the end, boils down to three things: knowing what you want, getting the team to work for you, and having the courage to make decisions on set. You have all three. Technical skills can be learned; nobody is born knowing them."
.......
After Cheng Er left, Liu Yu sat alone in the coffee shop and finished his terribly bitter Americano.
He stared out the window as the rain poured down harder, pattering against the glass.
Customers came and went in the coffee shop, but no one noticed a somewhat dejected young man sitting in the corner.
Liu Yu wasn't sad; he was confused.
Lu Chuan was too expensive, so Cheng Er refused to take the project. Other directors he knew either lacked experience or were afraid to take on student projects. After going around in circles, he ended up back where he started.
He suddenly remembered what Cheng Er had said before he left: "Why don't I do it myself?"
Do it yourself.
Liu Yu was startled by this thought. Me? Making a movie?
A first-year film production student who sold cars in his past life, and now wants to become a director after writing a screenplay? Isn't that a joke?
Another voice immediately popped into his mind, a voice he couldn't refute: If someone like Guo Jingming can be filmed, why can't he?
Once the thought came to mind, I couldn't suppress it anymore.
Yes, if Guo Jingming can make it, why can't I?
In his previous life, Liu Yu had seen the movies directed by Guo Jingming. They weren't exactly terrible, but they weren't much better either.
The film features exaggerated cinematography, empty dialogue, and a nonsensical plot. Its only redeeming quality is its exquisite visuals; however, that's due to budget, not talent.
Guo Jingming wrote novels before making movies and had no directing experience, but he still made movies, didn't he?
Besides, he wasn't unfamiliar with cameras in his past life.
Around 2019, when Douyin (TikTok) started to become popular, Liu Yu's car trading company also opened a Douyin account.
Initially, we hired someone to take the photos, which cost a lot of money, but the results were mediocre.
Later, he gritted his teeth and took matters into his own hands. He bought a DSLR camera, set up a tripod, and started taking pictures of the car's details, the test drive process, and the joyful expressions of customers when they picked up their cars.
He doesn't understand composition, camera movement, or lighting, but he understands one thing: what the audience wants to see.
After filming for several years, the account gained 500,000 followers, and customers coming in through Douyin can sell dozens more cars each month.
He figured out all the shooting techniques, editing methods, and camera language on his own. No one taught him; he relied entirely on trial and error. If a shot wasn't good, he would delete it, reshoot it, and delete it again until he was satisfied.
Isn't this just making a movie? It's just that a TikTok video is fifteen seconds long, while a movie is ninety minutes long.
The lengths may differ, but the underlying principles are similar.
Liu Yu stood up, stuffed the script into his bag, paid the bill, and walked out into the rain.
........
Now, the "Eraser" project is his battleground.
The actors are in place, the sponsorship has come in, and the crew is setting up; all that's missing is someone sitting behind the monitor shouting "Action!"
Since we can't find a suitable person, we'll just sit there ourselves.
The next morning, Liu Yu went to find Yu Li.
Yu Li's office was on the third floor of the teaching building. The door was half open, and Liu Yu knocked twice before going in.
Yu Li was looking at documents when she looked up and saw him. She relaxed and asked, "What's up? Did you find the director?"
"Found it. Me."
Yu Li's pen froze in mid-air. She stared at him for three seconds, making sure he wasn't joking, then put down the pen and leaned back in her chair: "What did you say?"
"I said, I'll be the director." Liu Yu's tone was as calm as if he were talking about what to have for lunch. "Teacher Yu, I know you'll think I'm being ridiculous. A first-year film production student who hasn't taken a single directing class and hasn't even drawn a storyboard, what makes me qualified to be a director? But what I want to tell you is that I have three things that others don't."
Yu Li raised an eyebrow: "Which three points?"
"First, I'm the screenwriter. No one understands this story better than me, and no one knows better than me what emotion each scene should convey. Second, I'm the producer of this project. The budget, the team, and distribution are all in my hands. I won't compromise because of budget overruns or delays. Third, and most importantly, I've already invested four million. Four million, real money. Who dares to say that someone who's invested four million isn't passionate about the project?"
Yu Li fell silent. She picked up the thermos on the table, unscrewed the lid, took a sip of water, screwed it back on, and looked at Liu Yu: "You have no directing experience. What about the technical aspects?"
"I'll learn," Liu Yu said decisively. "There are still more than two months before filming is scheduled to start. I'll go to the cinematography department and have them teach me camera language and mise-en-scène. I'll go to the editing room and have them teach me editing thinking. I'll go to the set and observe how other directors work."
Yu Li stared at him for a long time. The office was so quiet that you could hear the raindrops sliding off the leaves outside the window.
Then she said something that Liu Yu didn't expect: "Do you know what Zhang Yimou studied?"
"photography."
"Where is Chen Kaige?"
"Directing Department"
Where is Jiang Wen?
"Jiang Wen studied acting. How was his first film, 'In the Heat of the Sun'?"
"very good."
"How did someone who studied acting manage to direct 'In the Heat of the Sun' on his first attempt? Because he understands scripts, he understands actors, and he knows what he wants."
Yu Li put down her thermos. "You're not the first person from the film academy to switch majors and become a director, and you won't be the last."
Liu Yu knew that Yu Li had finally come out.
Yu Li looked at him, and the corners of her mouth slowly turned up. It was the first time Liu Yu had seen Yu Li show him this expression since he enrolled in school; it was an expectation of "I'll bet on you."
"Draw up your storyboard and bring it to the department. I'll take a look with the other professors. If it's approved, you'll be the director; if not, you'd better find a professional director."