Chapter 135: TV to Film

Liu Tianxian came from the Xiangshan, Ningbo set of The Four Great Constables; both productions were filming almost simultaneously.

The Big Shot set was in a high-end business luxury building, surrounded entirely by skyscrapers; this location was rented.

As soon as Liu Tianxian arrived, she saw Fang Hong, portraying the rich second-generation Young Master Zhao, ordering a contractor to beat a migrant worker.

"Bang, bang, bang!"

Several punches in a row left the migrant worker with a bruised, swollen face and blood streaming from his head.

The domestic Chinese version originally used a taser; that lacked visual impact. Here, they respected the South Korean version—punch after punch, blood spraying everywhere, delivering visceral shock.

"Come on, give your dad some encouragement, cheer him on!"

Fang Hong gripped the child's hand and raised it high, his actions reckless and evil.

The child, seeing his father being beaten, cried uncontrollably.

"Hahaha!"

Fang Hong laughed arrogantly as he watched the migrant worker lie on the ground, unable to rise.

The entire scene's cruelty and depravity made people feel uneasy.

Liu Tianxian also felt slightly unsettled, mainly because Fang Hong's performance radiated a complete disregard for life.

He treated other people's lives as utterly meaningless!

This wasn't just arrogance or bullying—it gave one a chilling, bone-deep dread.

Fang Hong's portrayal was completely different from Bao Beier's; Bao Beier's "Young Master Zhao" always deliberately flashed a vicious expression.

You could instantly tell he was a villain—his evil was fully externalized.

Fang Hong showed little expression yet committed the most cruel acts, perfectly embodying the rich second-generation's attitude of looking down on all others as if they were ants.

There was no way around it—reborn souls sometimes naturally felt this way; no acting was needed. Soon, the scene finished, and crew members moved in to pack equipment and remove makeup.

It wasn't real beating—just simulated.

"Director, I'm leaving first."

Wang Xing exited his role, greeted Fang Hong; his shooting duties for the day were done, and his next scenes weren't scheduled.

Fang Hong returned to his usual demeanor, merely nodding, then walked up to Liu Tianxian: "You're here."

"You look pretty handsome."

Liu Tianxian reached out and brushed dust off his suit jacket.

Fang Hong wore a sharp suit, his hair slicked back—he truly looked dashing.

He bowed with gentlemanly grace: "Thank you, Miss Liu, for your compliment."

"Don't be silly."

Liu Tianxian playfully hit him, glanced around at the crew, then added: "Hey, I notice your set has improved a lot since before—all the equipment's brand new."

"All newly purchased; these are just out of the box."

Fang Hong gestured for her to follow, leading her to the cinematographer Liu Yin: "This is the latest model from Germany's Arri—Alexa. It shoots the clearest 4K footage. One unit costs 700,000, and with lenses and full setup, around 800,000. I bought five."

Two years from now, The Wolf of Wall Street will be shot with this camera; Hugo was shot with it too.

The visual effects, the texture—needless to say.

There's also a 2K Amira; later, Hunan TV bought dozens of them—just for Variety shows. Extremely lavish.

But Fang Hong wouldn't buy just one type—he also bought IMAX cameras, for future 3D shoots.

"This camera outputs recording, image quality, and color on three independent channels; each can be edited separately in post-production. Every subtle expression, every pigment in the pores, is crystal clear," Liu Yin explained beside him.

"So on the big screen, the actors' expressions will be visible to the audience in extreme detail," Liu Tianxian said, surprised.

Could she still use her old acting methods? No wonder Fang Hong didn't want to give her a role—her flaws would be infinitely amplified.

Of course, her strengths would be amplified too.

"Yes, this is completely different from previous shooting methods. Before, you just needed to tell the story clearly. Now, it's entirely different—this approach creates a visual shock, assaulting the audience's senses. Do you understand what I mean?"

Fang Hong looked at her.

Liu Tianxian roughly understood—it meant displaying the actor's extreme emotions on the big screen,

every detail, every emotion magnified exponentially.

"So this is real cinema. What we shot before was barely TV drama level," Fang Hong explained to her.

Liu Tianxian nodded, indicating she understood.

No one had ever taught her what cinematic shooting was like, or what TV shooting was like. The principles and differences had never been explained to her in such detail.

But now Fang Hong was starting from the very basics, teaching her how cinematic shooting worked, how it expressed meaning.

This gave her a concept—how she should adapt her performance to cinematic style.

Liu Tianxian had never attended many classes at Beijing Film Academy; before, she'd only shot TV dramas, and her acting style followed TV norms.

Plus, the film professionals she'd worked with never bothered explaining this to her.

That's why she suited the small screen, not the big one—she couldn't grasp how cinema expressed meaning.

But now, with Fang Hong guiding her through it all, she had a rough understanding.

"This is the sensor—the light-sensitive component. What you see is exactly what gets transmitted to post-production, maximizing visual fidelity. This gives post-production much greater flexibility," Liu Yin explained.

"Can you take it off? Let her see it," Fang Hong said.

"Of course!"

Liu Yin detached the sensor from the back of the camera and handed it to Liu Tianxian.

This component was sold separately.

Western manufacturers really knew how to make money—splitting one machine into multiple parts to sell. Quite clever.

Liu Tianxian took it, glanced at it—it was just an electronic module. She couldn't tell anything from it and returned it: "There must be many kinds of these, right?"

"Yes. Different sensors have different efficiencies—some prioritize color, others prioritize image quality," Liu Yin explained at length.

Liu Tianxian was smart and could basically understand the principles behind it.

She also gained an understanding of film shooting — unlike television, which is rough, film pursues perfection.

Looks like Fang Hong's ragtag crew has upgraded!

After looking at these, Fang Hong took Liu Tianxian to see the latest audio, lighting, broadcast, and other equipment, as well as auxiliary devices.

These were just a quick overview, not as detailed as the camera inspection.

After all, the camera faces the actors directly; whatever the actors are like is presented through the camera.

It was now afternoon, and the crew was relocating. Fang Hong and Liu Tianxian were still strolling along leisurely.

It wasn't them doing the moving anyway.

"I'm suddenly feeling like acting in films is hard. I never really had a concept before — I thought acting in films was about the same as acting in TV dramas, and even if there was a difference, it wasn't a big one."

Liu Tianxian grabbed his arm: "Hearing you all talk like this, it feels like two completely different forms."

"That's why I'm telling you all this — to let you understand what form film is. Actually, *Bad Genius* was all about capturing various details. When I had you display presence, it was about showing an extreme emotion, letting the audience overlook shortcomings in expression," Fang Hong said.

Liu Tianxian nodded, understanding what he said, then said playfully: "So what you're saying is my acting is bad, huh!"

"Look at you — I'm talking seriously here, and you keep nitpicking my words," Fang Hong said.

"Alright, alright, I was just kidding with you." Liu Tianxian shrugged his arm.

"It's not that your acting is bad — it's that you're not used to film's style of performance. Change your habits, and gradually improve. Of course, that's assuming you don't touch television in the future."

Fang Hong told her: "Film actors have a hard time adapting to television's style of performance, and television actors also have a hard time adapting to film's style of performance.

The most fundamental reason is that television watches the face, while film watches the presence."

This is also why many actors who switched from film to television later flopped — because their presence couldn't be displayed on the small screen.

It feels like their own acting has dropped several levels for no reason. The sense of sophistication they showed on the big screen is a completely different matter, so of course the netizens went off on them.

Television to film is the same — they also can't display their presence at all, and can only rely on a pretty face, but the audience isn't paying to look at their face, so it's a flop.

Hearing him say this, Liu Tianxian fell into thought. Fang Hong had explained the differences between film and television very clearly to her.

In other words, once she decided to take the film path, she had to make up her mind to start over and not touch television.

If she wanted to act in television, then she shouldn't touch film.

This left Liu Tianxian quite conflicted — she was afraid she didn't have the ability to change herself.

"Don't worry about it either. You're acting in film, you're still young, what's there to fear? Taking a few detours over the years is fine," Fang Hong said.

He could pile up film resources for her; even if it really didn't work out later, she could just go act in television.

"Makes sense." Liu Tianxian stopped overthinking — she'd just go with the flow and see.

The two chatted as they walked, and Fang Hong told her a lot about film's modes of expression.

After all, as the Jade Rabbit improved, Liu Tianxian had to improve along with her.

(End of chapter)