Chapter 471: Still Damn Fair

After handling external forces and the organizing committee, next comes the jury—the group responsible for reviewing the films.

The jury consists of preliminary reviewers, selection reviewers, and final reviewers; preliminary review means selecting watchable, relatively decent films from those hundreds.

Films, like novels and TV dramas, are 90% garbage; choosing the non-garbage from hundreds is still quite painful.

So preliminary review is quite important, but this screening only requires watching the films, no need to examine them in detail.

For preliminary review, you can simply find seven people from Yutu, Beijing Film Academy, film critics, or associations—just need titles like producer, screenwriter, head of Beijing Film Academy department, film critic, or member of the Film Criticism Society.

These people are determined by the jury chairperson; as long as they have a title and basic aesthetic sense, that's enough.

The jury chairperson must be granted some authority; Fang Hong can't monopolize everything.

Selection reviewers are also recruited from Beijing Film Academy, Yutu, and society at large, with roles such as screenwriter, director, cinematographer, art director—find eleven people.

This review seeks masterpieces among the garbage; it requires a certain aesthetic sense, and the jury chairperson assembles the team.

Who gets invited and who doesn't is entirely up to the jury chairperson to decide.

For final reviewers, find those with some fame—Zhang Songwen, Golden Rooster Best Actor, his credentials are sufficient, and he's starred in multiple box-office hits.

Yet when he received the Principal's assignment, he complained: "Principal, I'm currently shooting 'Wu Shuang'—why suddenly give me this task? Where am I supposed to find the time?"

"Make some time," Fang Hong said. "Work during the day, review films at night; review films at night, work during the day. Time always exists if you squeeze for it."

Zhang Songwen was speechless—he was being treated like a beast of burden.

But since the Principal had spoken, he had nothing to say; he accepted the task, for over the years, the Principal had always taken care of him, constantly providing resources.

Also, Wen Muye, Golden Rooster Best Director and director of 'Xin Hua Nu Fang,' was also unavailable; Fang Hong told him to squeeze in time, since the film's post-production was already finished.

He didn't need to exert much effort on propaganda—just show up at important events.

Also, Li Anran, nominated for Golden Horse Best Art Direction, and editor Tu Yiran, both had time, since they had assistants and staff.

All of these were Fang Hong's people; they still needed an outsider—so they brought in Liang Jiahui.

He had acted in multiple Yutu films; when contacted, he readily agreed to take on the film-reviewing duty.

The final jury consisted of these five, but the jury chairperson had yet to be decided; Fang Hong thought for a moment and decided to appoint Han Jia_nv as jury chairperson.

She was a producer, screenwriter, a graduate with a master's degree, and the daughter of Zuoshandiao—her credentials and education were more than sufficient, her status was adequate.

Perhaps she could even draw Zuoshandiao himself; though retired, his prestige still stood.

If you ask her, Zuoshandiao would surely help—whom to invite, whom to exclude, he'd have his own list and give his daughter advice, revealing the inner workings.

Those you can't invite will still consider Zuoshandiao's face.

If lacking experience, let someone experienced help indirectly.

Fang Hong had played his cards well—whenever such a task arose, he always put Han Jia_nv out front.

When Han Jia_nv received this news, she was stunned, rushed over immediately, and caught Fang Hong and Liu Tianxian right where they were.

"Good thing you haven't left yet," Han Jia_nv sighed in relief, patting her chest.

"Sister Han, what's the rush?" Liu Tianxian asked, puzzled.

She and Fang Hong were going to Shanghai to attend the Shanghai International Film Festival—'Hua Shu' had been nominated, and she might win an award.

This made Liu Tianxian very happy; she wanted Fang Hong to accompany her, so if she won, her beloved would applaud, and if she lost, someone would comfort her.

Every year was like this—when she didn't win, this man would always comfort her well, making her laugh.

"I came to find the Principal about this jury chairperson matter—shouldn't we reconsider and pick someone else?" Han Jia_nv said.

Liu Tianxian fell silent, looking at Fang Hong.

"Why pick someone else? I think you're perfect for it," Fang Hong didn't understand.

"Principal, suddenly dumping such a huge task on me gives me enormous pressure! If I mess up, I'll be torn apart by criticism," Han Jia_nv said.

Reviewing films is the most thankless job—no matter who you award, people will curse you, because someone will always think you chose wrong and question your professionalism.

And the jury chairperson bears the brunt of it.

You also have to assemble the team—selecting who, excluding who—requires at least checking their past achievements, requiring at least sufficient credentials.

Digging up their records is a draining task.

"Don't worry about those things—we're doing something meaningful; such a meaningful task deserves some criticism," Fang Hong said casually.

"I think I'm still too young to bear such pressure and backlash—I'd rather you find a professional and let me serve as a deputy reviewer." Han Jia_nv felt she was too young—she was only twenty-eight or twenty-nine, an age many found untrustworthy.

Plus, she had no experience—never done this before.

"Don't define yourself by age—your achievements have already surpassed those fifty- or sixty-year-old academics; they may have spent their entire lives without making a film as good as yours."

Fang Hong placed his hands on her shoulders and looked at her seriously: "Age means nothing—it only shows they may have had some past achievements, but we're changing the present, the future—not picking up their old garbage. Time has already proven they can't run this festival properly; only young people like us can."

His words were highly persuasive and crushed a whole crowd of those old academics.

If this speech leaked, those old academics would surely denounce him—utterly heretical, betraying their masters.

Who nurtured you? Who made you successful? Don't you have gratitude?

Liu Tianxian listened, pursed her lips—sometimes she didn't understand this man; sometimes he seemed like an idealist chasing beautiful visions, other times he was brutally pragmatic.

Han Jia_nv was somewhat persuaded; she said: "If you make me jury chairperson, what are your requirements?"

"Fairness, fairness, and still damn fairness," Fang Hong pointed three times with his finger.

Han Jia_nv fell silent—achieving fairness was no easy thing. It's hard to say any reviewer is without subjectivity; some prefer art films, others prefer commercial ones.

Some have strong ideological biases, others don't.

You never know what others are thinking—that's inside their minds; every awards ceremony in the world has this issue.

It's just a matter of who is more fair, more open.

"As jury chairperson, you must discard personal bias—judge from a professional perspective, from the audience's perspective, strive for balance. This is my requirement for reviewers: one wrong final decision could affect a film, a person's entire life's achievement," Fang Hong said solemnly.

That means not favoring art films excessively, nor commercial films—commercial films can have excellent acting, excellent direction too.

And this isn't scaremongering—some films truly regretfully missed awards, every year; some people truly regretfully missed awards, affecting their entire life's achievements.

For example, Zhang Guorong, who missed Cannes.

Hearing this, Han Jianü felt even more pressure—it was hard to strike a balance on a single point.

"Don't feel pressured either. This is our first time, we're still in the exploratory stage. No matter how it goes, we'll accept the result and won't blame you." Fang Hong patted her shoulder, signaling her to relax.

Once you've put pressure on someone, you have to let them relax appropriately.

"Principal, you're roasting me over a fire here." Han Jianü couldn't help but say.

"Look at what you're saying. If I had the time, I'd want to be the Judge Panel Chair myself—very glamorous. The life-and-death power over hundreds of films in your own hands, and everyone gets to see you. Status? Got it. Honor? Got it. How great is that?" Fang Hong said it so convincingly he almost believed it himself.

"Then you do it. I'll just be a small lackey." Han Jianü said with a smile.

"Don't be like that. You can do it. I believe in you." Fang Hong said the same thing again.

This sudden reversal made both women laugh, lightening the atmosphere a bit.

What was said earlier was quite serious, but what came after carried a teasing tone.

"Actually, this thing—if someone who doesn't understand it does it, they can still do it well. But if someone who understands does it, they have too many concerns, too many selfish motives, always trying to look after this one, look after that one—dividing up the pork." Fang Hong said.

This made Han Jianü nod involuntarily. Indeed, at a deeper level this involved too many interests and personal relationships—winding and complicated.

And since they were starting fresh, they could cast all that aside.

"Same thing as before—don't feel pressured. How bad could it possibly get?" Fang Hong said lightly.

The Macau Film Festival was already pretty bad to begin with. At worst there'd be no splash, just as bad as before.

"With you saying that, then I'll do it. If it ends up being a chorus of criticism, don't blame me." Han Jianü said it upfront.

"Won't blame you. Go ahead and do it." Fang Hong said.

Liu Tianxian watched them succeed in their talk and felt gratified.

"Alright then, the rules and such—do we still use the old judging rules?" Han Jianü asked.

"Definitely need to change the rules. Just copy the successful ones—the rules of award ceremonies like the Golden Horse Awards and Oscar. Take the essence, discard the dregs."

Copy if you don't understand—Fang Hong said it without blushing at all.

Cannes is too international. The Macau Film Festival, after all, faces the local audience—there will definitely be some differences.

The two chatted a while longer. With Fang Hong's backing and safety net, Han Jianü went to arrange the Judge Panel matters.

This was her first time doing this, and she was quite nervous. She was also serious about it—not like those old hands who didn't care whether it went well or badly.

If she did it well, her credentials would jump up all at once.

However, Fang Hong had already selected the final-round judges. Han Jianü only needed to pick the preliminary and secondary-round judges.

The organizing committee and Judge Panel were basically set up by Fang Hong. Next, they just needed time to form their teams—no visible results for a while.

And since the Macau Film Festival already had some influence, there were still quite a few submitted films. So they could start the judging work based on the existing pool of films.

After handling this matter, Fang Hong and Liu Tianxian headed to Shanghai to attend the Shanghai International Film Festival.

In the first-class cabin of the plane, Liu Tianxian had design drafts from the wedding company spread across her legs. She was going through them one by one, pulling one out to show Fang Hong: "Hey, what do you think of this one?"

Fang Hong looked at the dress in the picture—a phoenix crown on the head, the fabric mainly red with gold trim, looking very regal and luxurious.

"It's alright, but isn't this phoenix crown a bit too small? Not grand enough." he said.

That phoenix crown looked quite delicate, but not grand—couldn't convey nobility.

Hearing him say that, Liu Tianxian pulled out another one—this phoenix crown was covered in gold, silver, and jewels from top to bottom, dazzlingly bright.

"This one works." Fang Hong said.

"Isn't it too tacky, too flashy?" Liu Tianxian said.

"If you feel that way, it's because their design is crude. Tell them to refine it, design the details well, and your feeling will be completely different."

Fang Hong adjusted his sitting posture and said again: "I'm a painter myself. When it comes to design, the details being slightly off makes a completely different feeling. It's like cars—same shape, but different details, different feeling."

"Makes sense." Liu Tianxian said.

"Of course. Take comics for example—same drawing, you can completely tell which one has better details." Fang Hong said.

This kind of abstract art—different artists drawing the same picture, some can become legendary, while others are destined not to be recognized.

"I understand now." Liu Tianxian looked at these things again—examining closely, they did feel crude.

After all, in such a short time, so many design drafts submitted at once—what details could they possibly design? Probably copied from the internet.

"And this cape—the Ten Miles of Red Dowry can't be left out."

(End of chapter)