Chapter 1637: Old Jiang's Persistence

When Zhao Fusheng arrived at Future Films, it happened to coincide with a company meeting. Ning Hao and the others were all there, and the person chairing the meeting turned out to be Old Jiang.

"Hey, how come you're here running the company meeting?"

Looking at Jiang Wen with some surprise, Zhao Fusheng asked in confusion, "Don't tell me Ye Jing arranged this."

"Yeah."

Jiang Wen nodded, looking smug: "So, have you read those reports I've been sending you lately?"

Zhao Fusheng was speechless. No wonder he'd felt those reports looked so professional—turns out this guy had written them.

"Stunned by my talent, huh?" Jiang Wen was still preening.

Zhao Fusheng shook his head helplessly, too lazy to deal with him, and went over to chat with Ning Hao and the others.

Filming for *Crazy Racer* had wrapped up and entered post-production. Ning Hao had come today to discuss distribution with the company. After all, as the director, he knew the work best.

"Once this is done, you should take a good rest."

Zhao Fusheng said to Ning Hao, "The company doesn't have a hard rule that you have to make a film every year. Take care of yourself, got it?"

Ning Hao quickly nodded: "Thank you, Chairman."

He truly felt a sense of awe toward this man. Despite being younger, any one of the things he had accomplished was beyond Ning Hao's reach.

Two different worlds!

That was how Ning Hao now defined himself and Zhao Fusheng.

It wasn't just him; Wang Quanan beside him felt the same way.

"How's the preparation for *Tuya's Marriage* going?" Zhao Fusheng asked Wang Quanan casually after finishing his talk with Ning Hao.

"It's all set."

Wang Quanan explained to Zhao Fusheng, "We originally planned to start filming last year, but the weather didn't permit it. General Manager Ye suggested we move it to early this year."

Zhao Fusheng nodded: "Alright, as long as you have a clear plan. Our goal for this film is the three major film festivals. Whether we win awards depends on you, Director Wang."

Zhao Fusheng had a decent impression of these sixth-generation directors. Although their style was monotonous and lacked commercial elements, that wouldn't be proven until many years later.

For now, they still had some artistic pursuit.

Of course, compared to those fifth-generation guys, they were far behind. Whether it was Kaige or the National Teacher, the fifth-generation directors had something unique, while these sixth-generation ones really needed to find their own path.

"Don't worry, I'll do my best." Wang Quanan nodded repeatedly.

To him, Zhao Fusheng was a benefactor who appreciated him. If he could make a film that won an award at one of the three major festivals, then he, Wang Quanan, would make a name for himself internationally.

As for Yu Nan, she was just a woman. Besides, what Zhao Fusheng valued was her acting skills, not her personally—Wang Quanan could tell that much.

Zhao Fusheng wasn't very interested in chatting with Wang Quanan; instead, he spent a long time talking with Ning Hao.

In fact, Zhao Fusheng had always liked Ning Hao's comedies, and he felt that since realistic themes were hard to pull off in China, it might be better to focus on comedy.

You see, comedy comes from the display of absurdity and dislocation, and what creates absurdity and dislocation is often tragedy.

Tragedy here doesn't mean calamity, and comedy isn't farce.

The true core of comedy is an interpretation of tragedy. More often than not, behind a comedy, one can discern a tragic meaning.

Take Stephen Chow, for example. Often, what audiences see are all kinds of embarrassing situations for the protagonist. In fact, this itself is a dislocation of identity and status. The gap and dislocation, set against the backdrop of the camera, often leave us feeling a bit desolate after laughing wildly.

True comedy makes the audience feel sorrow amid laughter, like *A Chinese Odyssey* or *The King of Comedy*.

Conversely, later figures like Deng Cuihua are pure farce and affectation.

Among the Mahua group, *Mr. Donkey* truly captured the essence. Even *Goodbye Mr. Loser* and *Never Say Die* were passable, but later *Auntie* simply treated the audience as fools and was naturally rejected by the market.

All forced sentimentality is nonsense.

Not everyone can, like Stephen Chow, skillfully use one character after another to interpret the sorrows of the little people.

Those who imitate me thrive; those who copy me die.

This is common in the film industry.

To be honest, in his previous life, when Zhao Fusheng watched movies, he didn't feel much for those Mahua films. To him, they were just a string of skits stitched together. In an hour and a half, the audience felt like they were watching the Spring Festival Gala, made to laugh with all kinds of gags—if one gag didn't work, there was always the next.

As for whether the audience would take anything away from the film, that wasn't their concern.

Admittedly, that's also a form of expression.

A pure popcorn movie approach.

"I've always believed that no matter what genre a film is, it needs a core," Zhao Fusheng said seriously to Ning Hao. "Even with comedy, we should know what the purpose of making the film is."

Ning Hao agreed wholeheartedly, clearly endorsing Zhao Fusheng's words.

...

...

"Why are you here?"

In the general manager's office, Jiang Wen asked Zhao Fusheng with some curiosity.

Although Zhao Fusheng said he came to watch the fun, Jiang Wen didn't believe it. Having been friends for so many years, he knew Zhao Fusheng well—at least, the guy wasn't that diligent.

If he had time to watch the fun, he'd rather go see his daughter.

But since he was here, Jiang Wen figured he might as well have a chat with him.

"Don't even mention it..." Zhao Fusheng helplessly recounted the whole story, finally wryly saying, "I thought I'd come here to escape the hassle, but I didn't expect to find you here."

To be honest, he really hadn't expected Ye Jing to entrust the company to Jiang Wen's management.

But he had to admit, Jiang Wen's performance at the meeting just now wasn't bad.

"Honestly, I've been so busy lately I haven't had a moment's rest." Jiang Wen also had a bellyful of complaints. After attending the Baeksang Arts Awards in South Korea, he had planned to travel with his wife and child, but Ye Jing had roped him in.

Ye Jing's reasoning was simple: since he was a shareholder of the company, whether major or minor, he had an obligation to contribute to the company's affairs.

Zhao Fusheng chuckled: "Actually, I think it's great."

"Great?"

Jiang Wen was taken aback, looking at Zhao Fusheng in surprise. He didn't think turning a big director into a film company manager was something to be happy about.

"Yeah, look at Zhao Baogang—he's doing pretty well too." Zhao Fusheng shrugged nonchalantly. "Actually, let me tell you, you should start thinking about the future."

To be honest, Zhao Fusheng certainly trusted Jiang Wen's directing skills, but the problem was that only one or two of his films made money; the rest lost money. Under these circumstances, Zhao Fusheng really didn't think he should make too many films.

"The future?" Jiang Wen looked at Zhao Fusheng with some surprise.

Zhao Fusheng nodded: "Yeah, you're not young anymore, and you have a kid. I think you should consider a career shift."

Whatever the case, he'd start by bamboozling the guy.

"Cut it out."

Jiang Wen wasn't falling for it. He shot Zhao Fusheng a glare: "I'm a director, not just an actor. Don't worry, even at sixty, I can still make films."

That was true.

Zhao Fusheng couldn't argue with that. For actors and directors, especially male actors, age really wasn't an issue. Some actors' charisma only truly emerged when they got older.

Of course, it was also because those young actors were truly terrible—couldn't even memorize their lines, resorting to lip-syncing and counting numbers. How could they have a future?

So-called traffic stars rely on youth.

Twenty years from now, these people will probably be forgotten, overtaken by time.

After all, fans tend to be fickle.

"See? I'm right, aren't I?" Jiang Wen, seeing Zhao Fusheng silent, looked smug and smiled at him. "I tell you, one day I'll make a film that blows everyone away."

Zhao Fusheng was speechless. He really wanted to tell this guy that later on, he'd make a film that earned 500 million, only to lose it all in less than three years!

Jiang Wen was the type to be stubborn as a mule.

In Zhao Fusheng's view, if he were willing to cater to commercial film formulas and the audience, with his skill, in an era where films easily grossed hundreds of millions or even billions, making a high-grossing film wouldn't be a problem.

But the thing was, this guy was stubborn as a mule, clinging to his own principles.

The result was that he was doomed to fail.

Like Don Quixote charging at windmills, his fate was sealed from the start.

"Suit yourself."

Zhao Fusheng couldn't be bothered to criticize him and said casually, "If you ask me, managing while making films is the best approach. Being a producer actually suits you."

Jiang Wen was startled, surprised by Zhao Fusheng's insistence. Usually, Zhao Fusheng rarely said such things to him. If he did, there must be a reason.

After thinking it over, Jiang Wen looked at Zhao Fusheng: "Do you have something in mind?"

Zhao Fusheng shook his head helplessly and waved his hand: "What I think doesn't matter. What matters is whether you want to be involved."

That was his honest opinion—that was the key point.