Chapter 229: The Brave and Fearless Little Warrior

The audience in the hall remained silent; the stage continued its discussion, for anything could be said.

State your demands, state your difficulties—as long as you can kill Hollywood.

If the higher-ups didn't consider so many things, they'd just expel Hollywood films outright; everyone would be spared trouble—why bother consulting you?

Lifting certain restrictions certainly involves many considerations, ones ordinary people cannot understand.

At least your films are impressive and can counterattack the United States.

Lu Tailang is furious about censorship—always blocking his films, driving him insane; he cried on stage, pitifully.

But Fang Hong's retort left him stunned—he thought they were all on the same side, all suffering under censorship.

"Movies are for the public, and the public is inherently diverse—shouldn't the public be allowed to see more varied things?" Lu Tailang countered.

"Yes, but diverse things should mean more genres of films, not forcing your own ideas onto the audience."

Fang Hong continued: "Audiences should think for themselves when watching films—not have you think for them."

"That's not censorship thinking for the audience," Lu Tailang blurted out.

That remark was bold—when the higher-ups set a direction, you must follow it; that's for stability. Why should a director care so much?

"I think censorship isn't thinking for anyone—it's taking responsibility for the nation and for history. You film historical nihilism, slander ancestors, twist the deeds of forebears—shouldn't you be the one criticized? Don't play the victim."

Fang Hong's words were heavy, echoing through the ears of every filmmaker and official via the microphone.

And they rang true.

Lu Tailang's face darkened—this was another accusation that he was morally skewed.

"I've always believed: make movies, just make movies. You can express yourself, but you cannot express things that shouldn't be expressed.

Countless fabricated films have passed review—why is only yours blocked? You should reflect on why you're blocked, not blame this or that, whining like a victim.

Film is for the public; we in the film industry must straighten our thinking, clearly knowing what to film and what not to."

Fang Hong's words made certain filmmakers and general managers sneer—they thought he was a sycophant.

Yu Pangzi's contemptuous expression scoffed.

He'd thought the Principal had backbone, but turns out he's just another brown-noser.

Some Film Bureau leaders—directors, section chiefs, department heads—all members of the Film Review Committee—listened with great comfort.

You think we want to block you? It's your thinking that's wrong—you're promoting deviant trends!

Who was that blind fool who blocked the Principal's The Genius? That was a misfire.

"Good awareness!" a Film Bureau official whispered to Zhang Hongsen.

"You didn't know—he used to be extremely defiant. I don't know what happened recently, but he finally woke up." Zhang Hongsen whispered back.

He still remembered the first time he met Fang Hong at the Film Bureau—how arrogant he was toward him and Yu Pangzi, how fiercely defiant, determined to fight to the end—it was unforgettable.

Now his thinking had shifted so quickly.

"A little grinding, a few taps—he's still a good comrade," the official said.

Zhang Hongsen nodded, understanding.

The higher-ups need people like this—people who voice their thoughts plainly to these filmmakers.

It's not that we won't let you film—just don't let your ass tilt.

Lu Tailang's face was grim—these words were a direct order for him to reflect. He retorted: "If I recall correctly, the Principal was also blocked."

"So I never blame others—I reflect on where I went wrong," Fang Hong said, though the words rang hollow.

But all the officials were watching; they'd spoken so long—could he possibly retract what he'd just said?

Besides, his own review block was orchestrated by Yu Pangzi.

"Fine, fine, you're right," Lu Tailang, worn down by Fang Hong, gave up.

He couldn't afford to be angry—say too much, get too heated, and his film might not even release this year—it'd be too hard.

"Speaking of this issue, we remember Lou Ye—his films are always blocked, yet he still returned to the Chinese film market."

Jia Zhangke spoke up, shifting the topic: "I'd like to ask Director Feng—just now the Principal said he wants to make a blockbuster, a sci-fi film, to raise the film industry's standards—what do you think?"

"A director who plagiarizes even his high-school romances—honestly, it's fake film, fake box office, fake pretense—on what grounds does your film deserve to go abroad? On what grounds should your story be told to others?"

Feng Kuzi remained as blunt as ever: "And piracy—amid this film environment, do you really believe shouting slogans about making sci-fi and upgrading industry will work? I don't."

He hadn't changed—he still dared to speak so openly.

He didn't just accuse Fang Hong of being fake and slogan-obsessed—he also declared China's film market unfit for blockbusters.

You must first completely eradicate piracy.

In his past life, he'd said even more fiercely: this was a nation of forgers—fake milk powder, fake football, fake box office—he'd insulted the entire nation.

"I've had two films go abroad—The Genius and The Big Shot—both made money. Show me one fake one."

Fang Hong realized dealing with Feng Kuzi required directness—no roundabout, flashy tactics.

Subtlety was useless with him—he simply wasn't that kind of person.

"You think you're great? Your The Banquet sold to Columbia for fifteen million dollars back in 2006—what do you have to compare with?" Feng Kuzi shot back.

Back then, the exchange rate was high, and they were even competing over it.

"Then your The Banquet, Chen Daren's The Promise, Lao Mouzi's A Simple Noodle Story—these three films crushed foreign interest in Chinese-language films. How can you even say that with a straight face?"

Fang Hong hadn't wanted to say it—he truly couldn't hold back.

A few years ago, Hollywood studios were still enthusiastic about Chinese films—North and South America still had strong markets—these three films silenced them completely.

Their reputation was utterly destroyed!

They bought these films for their reputations—but what they received was garbage.

Since then, no matter what you film, they won't buy—unless it's been market-tested, forget it.

The opening created by Hero and Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon collapsed entirely—no more than two years of full stomachs.

These past two years, everyone talks about taking on Hollywood—because they're unwilling to accept defeat, because they want to fight back.

The outside market before this had been too dazzling.

Fang Hong's words caused the expressions of everyone present to shift to varying degrees — the blast radius was a bit wide, since they all hit the reverse scale of those three directors: you can only watch, not criticize.

Especially Chen Daren — that glass heart of his, you can't even bring it up.

But Fang Hong wasn't afraid; he had always played on his own. So what if he talked about these directors like that? No one could do anything to him.

"If I remember correctly, The Banquet was just imitating Hero. Director Feng isn't exactly a man of integrity either!" Fang Hong mocked.

This was a counter-attack against Feng Kuzi's claim that Fang Hong had no integrity.

"No matter what, I'm still your senior. Speaking to me like that — watch it, or I'll slap you across the face, believe it or not." Feng Kuzi's face looked terrible, furious beyond words, and he stood up.

A "wah" of noise went through the room — everyone thought the two were about to come to blows.

Resorting to violence when you can't win an argument did indeed fit Feng Kuzi's explosive temper, especially since there was already a grudge between them.

The other two directors just watched, not sure what to say. Jia Zhangke stood up to keep Feng Kuzi from making a move.

This man really couldn't keep his composure — not even as well as a junior.

But Feng Kuzi didn't make a move; he just glared at Fang Hong. He still had reason, was still holding himself back.

"Don't put on the airs of an elder in front of me. Your words don't sit well with my ears — why should I give you face? This is a forum, a place to speak freely, not your home. If you want to throw your weight around, go home and do it."

Fang Hong shifted in his seat, showing no sign of backing down.

"With this person here, this exchange has no meaning anymore."

Feng Kuzi forcibly suppressed his rage, put down the microphone, and walked off the stage without the slightest intention of lingering — which made the scene somewhat awkward.

Still, not throwing punches was already a good outcome.

The leaders remained steady as old dogs, their expressions unchanged — this was just a small scene.

"Good, thank you to the several directors for the exchange and sharing, thank you." Jia Zhangke spoke up at just the right moment, signaling Fang Hong and the others to leave the stage.

Feng Kuzi had already left the stage and returned to his seat. There was nothing left to discuss in this exchange, so they moved on to the next round.

The other directors' exchanges remained just as sharp. Directors like Wang Xiaoshuai, Lou Ye, and Zhang Yuan continued to hammer away at censorship.

Of course there was also complaining — complaining that actors' pay was too high.

For example, a Hong Kong director surnamed Wen complained: "Now if you want a big name to act in your film, you have to pay eight figures — seven figures won't cut it anymore. One star on set needs eight assistants trailing behind him."

The film forum discussed exactly these things: emphasizing the need for good scripts and good storytelling, complaining about the censorship system, resisting Hollywood, and other such topics.

In truth, these were all stale, worn-out topics, rehashed every year. If every year's forum is just this kind of pie-in-the-sky talk, it might as well be cancelled.

This was the media's report.

No matter how much you complain, it's useless. Censorship remains just as strict, the market still lacks good scripts, still lacks good stories.

Fang Hong was probably the most upright-thinking one among them. He didn't complain about censorship — his idea was to improve his own strength first, then talk about everything else.

After this debate ended, people began clustering in groups of three or five again — some knew each other, some didn't — networking, with constant chatter and laughter.

The solemn atmosphere from the exchange earlier was completely gone.

The leaders had already left, after all!

"Oh, look at our brave little warrior." When General Manager Xiao Wang saw Fang Hong passing by, he spoke up mockingly.

He was surrounded by a group of people — Xu Laoguai, Fang Long, Fatty Yu, Feng Kuzi, Jiang Wen, Wu Ershan, Lu Tailang — all of whom had worked with Huayi before.

Painted Skin 2 was directed by Wu Ershan.

Some of them wore sneers, some wore blank expressions, some stepped back a little, refusing to offend either side.

Fang Hong stopped in his tracks and shot back directly: "Are you sick in the head?"

"You're the sick one," General Manager Xiao Wang shot back directly.

There was no point being polite. The previous incidents had already escalated to a boiling point — among entertainment industry power players behind the scenes, there weren't that many fancy pretenses of surface harmony.

Just as General Manager Xiao Wang himself once said: "I don't need to coerce actresses with hidden rules, because they come to me on their own."

How direct! Fang Hong swept a glance over the group, said nothing, and left.

"Hah, thought he was something — turns out he just knows how to flatter and suck up." Fatty Yu sneered.

His voice was neither loud nor soft, and Fang Hong hadn't walked far — just close enough to hear it.

"If the leaders weren't here, I'd really love to smack that bastard — way too arrogant."

That was Feng Kuzi's voice.

The video of this forum wasn't edited either — it was released directly, and the text version was posted as well.

The most heated discussion was naturally the footage of Fang Hong taking on Lu Tailang and Feng Kuzi.

"Principal roasted them well. Their butts are crooked and they blame censorship — City of Life and Death was disgustingly awful."

"Speaking of which, how did City of Life and Death even pass censorship?"

"Feng the Cannon truly lives up to his name — flares up the moment he speaks, ignites at the slightest touch."

"If the Principal hadn't said it, I wouldn't have known The Banquet was made by imitating Hero."

"It was always like that. As soon as that film was released, it came out — it was made to sell overseas, and turned out to be a piece of crap."

"Feng Kuzi always looks down on everyone."

"Feels like the Principal was being a bit fake in there!"

"."

The Wangyi comments were lively. Feng Kuzi cursed at reporters at the film festival: "Insolent brat!"

That was directed at Fang Hong.

Chen Daren was also glass-hearted: "He's someone who crawled out of the countryside, like a wild child — his parents never beat him into shape."

This was saying Fang Hong had no upbringing, that country folk couldn't understand his films.

A brooding, pretentious artsy type — quite good at veiled barbs.

But Fang Hong didn't bother with them — the more you engage, the more they egg on. What he said was fact: the whole world was saying The Promise was garbage, yet he remained immersed in his own world, unable to pull himself out.

These big-name directors may have bad reputations, but they all come with built-in controversy. If they want to trash you, they'll do it directly—no need to buy a publicity draft.

They're not afraid of being smeared, because they're already black to begin with!

Lao Mouzi said nothing. With the Double Zhang incident exploding now, he couldn't even look after himself, let alone care what others said about him.

Even if others talked about him, he couldn't be bothered to respond—just admitted it was bad.

After Fang Hong finished attending the film festival's forum, he returned to Beijing. The film festival had nothing more to do with him.

The subsequent exchanges had nothing to do with him either.

This kind of forum can't really produce any meaningful exchange. Everyone wants to crush Hollywood and go global; everyone has that ambition, but no one has the ability.

Visuals or story—at least one has to be done well. Now they can't even tell a story clearly.

Visuals are even less worth mentioning—still far off!

Those filmmakers actually understand everything perfectly well. What they're really after is for the higher-ups to loosen censorship and give them creative freedom.

(End of chapter)