Chapter 13: The Annoying Riddler

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Xie Fei was genuinely in a difficult position.

As long as the films were reasonably good, putting one forward as the top choice could still be justified. Putting forward two meant calling in favors and striking a balance. But putting forward three would be extraordinarily difficult.

Even though the Berlin International Film Festival was quite friendly toward Chinese-language films, it was still an international festival. It had standards to uphold; they could not make their favoritism look too blatant.

He hinted to Cao Yang that, if there were other channels available, he could try making contact. As long as someone promoted the film from within the jury first, Xie Fei could follow up in time and would not be placed in such an awkward position.

Old Xie truly was in a bind. Wang Xiaoshuai wanted his film promoted, Cao Yang wanted his promoted, and he had also owed the people in Taiwan a favor, so he had no choice but to promote theirs as well. It was an impossible situation.

The Berlin Film Festival was not his personal property. There were only so many awards in the Competition section. If he really tried to push three films through despite everything... Just thinking about it made his scalp prickle. At that point, he might as well throw away the reputation he had spent his entire life building.

He also hinted to Wang Xiaoshuai and the people in Taiwan that they each needed to find a way to help. They could not expect an old man like him to charge into the front line alone.

He had not yet reached the point of throwing away all shame.

This inevitably reminded Cao Yang of the Sunglasses King, Wong Kar-wai.

When Wong Kar-wai had served as president of the jury for the Competition section at the fifty-ninth Cannes Film Festival, he had demonstrated the true art of compromise. His audacious maneuver had left everyone speechless.

He had awarded five Best Actor prizes and six Best Actress prizes in one go!

After that, for quite some time, no one in Europe dared invite the Sunglasses King to serve on a jury again.

Cao Yang really wanted to tell Old Xie this story, but then he remembered that it had happened only in 2006. It had not happened yet. Besides, Old Xie probably could not pull off something like that. As a leading figure among the Fourth Generation directors and a venerable artist, he cared far too much about his dignity.

If Cao Yang dared suggest that Old Xie do the same, Old Xie would probably beat him to death.

After hanging up, Cao Yang found himself muttering under his breath. He hated people who only said half of what they meant. You could understand them a little, yet not quite understand them at all. How you interpreted it depended entirely on your own ability.

Why could they not just say things directly? Why make everyone guess?

Old Tian was still the best. That stubborn old man never spoke in riddles. Whatever he had to say, he said it plainly.

“What are you doing? You’ve been on the phone nonstop. Are you not working anymore?”

His mother slapped the back of Cao Yang’s head, breaking his train of thought.

“Mom, let me remind you: I make my living with my brain. What if that slap turns me stupid?”

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Seeing his mother raise her hand again, Cao Yang hurriedly announced the good news.

“Mom, the movie I made a while ago has been selected for the Competition section of the Berlin Film Festival!”

His mother froze. The raised hand slowly lowered.

“Did you win an award?” she asked excitedly.

“Uh... not yet. But it’s possible.”

“Haha, my son really is something. Once you win an award, I’ll make you all your favorite dishes.”

Although he had not won anything yet, his mother was clearly delighted, even if she did not necessarily understand what the Berlin Film Festival was or what it represented.

“Old Cao, what are you doing? Didn’t you hear that our son is calling? And you’re still sitting there smoking. Smoke, smoke, smoke—you do nothing but smoke. Come over and help with the work. Our son is going to win an award, and it’s an international one!”

Dinner that evening was unusually lavish. After doing some research, Cao Yang’s parents finally learned what kind of event the Berlin Film Festival was.

In those days, admiration for all things foreign was at its height. His parents understood only one thing: if their son could win a major Berlin Film Festival award, he would soar into the heavens and become a famous director in China, with a limitless future ahead of him.

Could anything make the old couple happier than that?

After dinner, Cao Yang called Tian Zhuangzhuang to ask for his opinion.

He repeated to Old Tian, word for word, what Xie Fei had said on the phone that day.

Old Tian fell silent for a moment before telling him to relay the message to Hou Keming. That was all he needed to do. Hou Keming would naturally know what to do.

Then Old Tian told Cao Yang something else.

The president of this year’s Berlin jury was the chairman of Fox Filmed Entertainment, responsible for film production and distribution.

The National Master, Yimou Zhang, had directed a film called Happy Times, and this man had personally led its investment. He was no ordinary figure. After his production Titanic raked in 240 million yuan at the Chinese box office, he had begun paying extraordinary attention to the mainland market.

That was 240 million yuan in 1998. At the time, any director whose film earned twenty or thirty million yuan domestically was already considered a major success.

The producer of Happy Times, Terrence Malick, had won the Golden Bear at the forty-ninth Berlin Film Festival. He was also a longtime friend of the festival president, Moritz de Hadeln.

Yimou had won the Golden Bear at the thirty-eighth Berlin Film Festival and had just taken home the festival’s Grand Jury Prize the previous year. His connections there were extensive; he could practically be considered part of the Berlin Film Festival’s inner circle.

Finally, Old Tian added, “This is only the beginning. The school’s influence is far beyond anything you can imagine. You’ll have to figure out the rest yourself.”

“Figure out my ass! I never thought that straight-faced Old Tian would defect and become a riddle-teller too. It was much better when you were simply stubborn Old Tian.”

After hanging up, Cao Yang muttered to himself.

Even so, he called Hou Keming and conveyed Xie Fei’s meaning.

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Honestly, you two could just talk to each other directly. Why act like a pair of riddlers?

Hou Keming simply said that he understood, then proceeded to ask after Cao Yang with great warmth before finally asking when he would be returning to school.

The fifty-first Berlin International Film Festival would be held in Berlin, Germany, from February 7 to 18. Today was January 17, leaving twenty days.

Cao Yang promised that he would return to school at least a week early.

The days passed one after another. His privileged treatment lasted for an entire week before his mother began finding fault with him again.

Fortunately, the Spring Festival arrived. Cao Yang had assumed that his parents would show off a little in front of their relatives and casually mention their son’s “achievement.” Unexpectedly, they kept their mouths shut and told no one.

Perhaps they were saving it for something bigger, planning to make a grand announcement once Cao Yang actually won an award.

Or perhaps, in their minds, anything that had not yet happened could not be publicized. They feared that speaking too soon might jinx it.

During this period, Cao Yang thought carefully about the upcoming Berlin Film Festival. Even with Xie Fei’s support and the school working behind the scenes, he could forget about the Golden Bear. There was no chance it would be awarded to him.

Even if Li Xiaoran delivered a godlike performance in the film, she could not possibly win the Golden Bear on her first attempt. The most likely outcome was Best Actress—in other words, the Berlin Best Actress award.

In reality, whether at Berlin, Venice, or Cannes, as long as a film was not terrible, many awards could be maneuvered into place. The only exceptions were the highest honors: the Golden Bear, the Golden Lion, and the Palme d’Or.

On the surface, the jury could award any prize it wished. But without the festival’s tacit approval, the top prize was extremely difficult to obtain.

No one should assume that the dozen or so jury members were invited at random. Every year, several of them were chosen to carry out the festival’s official will, ensuring that the highest award remained under control.

Since winning the top prize was far too difficult, he could only focus on the other awards.

Over the Spring Festival holiday, Cao Yang began studying screenplays and started putting pen to paper.

In his previous life, Cao Yang’s sharp edges had been worn smooth. He had become worldly and calculating in the way he handled things. Even so, whenever he saw the remarks made online by those South Korean bastards, he still lost his temper.

So he decided to make use of some of their better film ideas first. After all, those sons of bitches were always stealing Chinese culture and making outrageous claims.