Chapter 549: The Cruel Reality of the Entertainment Circle

The previous chapter's Best Actor has been changed!

Cui Yongyuan's words drew waves of laughter from the audience, and everyone could read the innuendo behind them.

He was referring to the fact that Sa Beinan's ex-girlfriend was Guoji Zhang, so she was a film-industry family member; the two later broke up, and she no longer was.

Being the target of the innuendo, Guoji Zhang in the audience could only force a smile!

What could she do? Nothing at all.

With someone like Cui Yongyuan, if you can't out-argue him, you can only swallow it, because the man is clean as a whistle — there's no moral flaw for you to attack.

At most, you'd just be saying the man has mental problems.

"So after careful deliberation, the committee decided to give this award to someone outside the film circle. The winner of the Macau Film Festival's Best Host is Cui Yongyuan." Cui Yongyuan paused in the middle of it.

"Aww-aww-aww!"

The audience below began to cheer and clap, the atmosphere light and harmonious, quite entertaining — it was the first time a host had played around like this on stage.

In the past, what they saw were hosts who were proper and by-the-book, the very formal kind.

Cui Yongyuan, on the other hand, was unconventional, witty, and humorous.

"Thank you, thank you, I really didn't expect to win this award."

Cui Yongyuan even held a trophy and began his acceptance speech: "I've attended many film festivals, and this one is my favorite. Why? Because at this festival I've seen many young faces, and there's always something unexpected happening.

For example, when I was walking backstage just now, I just happened to pick up a trophy — that doesn't happen at other film festivals."

The guests below all laughed, knowing this never happened, because the "Golden Lotus" trophy wasn't any kind of host award — that category didn't even exist.

That trophy should have been the Best Film trophy.

"The Macau Film Festival is already six years old, and in ninety-four years it'll be a hundred — 'a hundred years' doesn't sound great either." Cui Yongyuan was quite humorous, and laughter kept rippling through the venue.

He went on: "A hundred years from now, I hope we'll all still love film. Really, if we manage to last until then, we probably won't be able to talk, won't be able to move, and may even have turned into wisps of ash. I propose we get buried together."

"Hahaha!"

The whole audience couldn't help laughing — he'd talked them all the way to death.

Cui Yongyuan was rambling nonsense on stage, and Liu Tianxian, puzzled about something, was whispering with Fang Hong.

"I noticed Tao Zeru started choking up mid-speech during his acceptance — what happened?" Liu Tianxian asked.

"The director of Song of the Phoenix died," Fang Hong said.

"Huh?!" Liu Tianxian was shocked.

"If I remember correctly, he should have died this March," Fang Hong thought for a moment.

Song of the Phoenix had actually been filmed long ago — it was submitted for awards back in 2013 and only hit theaters in 2016, because no company was willing to distribute this art-house film, thinking it wouldn't make money.

The reason it eventually got distributed was that Laolei Film Industry's boss Fang Li put up the money, but the box office was nothing to write home about, and the cinemas wouldn't give it any screenings either.

That boss then dropped to his knees before the audience in a stunning, earth-shaking kneel!

That kneel kneed out over eighty million at the box office. Of course, some say it was hype — but whether it was or not, the man deserved it.

The boss of Laolei Film Industry wasn't short on cash either; his background was in industry, and film was just a hobby. Later he ended up teaming up with Han Han.

"No matter which corner of the world we're buried in, we'll screen outdoor movies every day and scare them to death. Thank you, everyone. You may think I'm a bit long-winded, but I really do have a lot to say from the heart.

Let's invite the Principal up."

Cui Yongyuan finally finished his rambling and invited Fang Hong on stage.

Fang Hong gave Liu Tianxian's leg a pat and went up on stage.

Liu Tianxian was still immersed in her shock; by the time she came back to herself, her man was already on his way to the stage.

Every eye in the audience was on this man, each heart carrying different feelings — some moved, some in awe, some jealous.

Moved that he had achieved so much; in awe of his towering image; jealous of why he had achieved so much — things others couldn't get done, he had.

"Hello, Principal, I'm your student." Cui Yongyuan opened with a tease.

"All my students are in the film circle; in the hosting circle, I'm your student," Fang Hong said, standing at the microphone.

The meaning was: in the film circle, you're my student; in the hosting circle, you're my teacher.

"We learn from each other — I learn filmmaking from you, you learn hosting from me. A person's energy is limited; being able to master one or two things is already remarkable. Being able to learn from the Principal means that if I have no work in the future, I can still make films, and at least I won't starve. Right now I'm still worrying about whether I'll go hungry later on."

Cui Yongyuan patted his own belly, and laughter rose from the venue.

Liu Tianxian felt a bit awkward — this was a tease at her earlier remark about the film festival being a family affair.

"That won't happen — who doesn't have a couple of acres of poor land back home?" Fang Hong's meaning was: if you go hungry, just go home and farm.

He was standing up for his wife.

"True enough — worst case, I'll go home and farm. Farming, surely no one will think I'm being meddlesome!" Cui Yongyuan laughed.

Watching the two trade quips back and forth, the audience found it quite entertaining — much better than when Liu Tianxian had been teased into a corner earlier and had to pull out her big move.

At least the Principal had been handling it with effortless ease the whole time.

Not to mention Fang Hong was someone who had crossed swords with people like Jack Ma many times — when Jack Ma started blowing his own horn, few could keep up.

"Sure, you go off and farm, but whether this film festival can even be broadcast again is another matter. I just heard a committee staff member say our livestream cut out three times, and the longest one was when you were teasing the CCTV host just now," Fang Hong said.

"Don't worry about that — any livestream I'm in never gets a replay." Cui Yongyuan said it with full conviction, without a shred of guilt. "Hahaha!" The audience burst out laughing.

"You've got a thick skin, I'll give you that," Fang Hong said, helpless.

Cui Yongyuan looked at him and teased: "Feeling the pinch? Can't sell some broadcast rights?"

"The pinch, no — is it wrong to let people talk now?" Fang Hong said it with great nonchalance.

"Fair point," Cui Yongyuan nodded in agreement.

"."

Fang Hong was about to say something when his earpiece suddenly crackled to life; he lowered his head and listened carefully.

The audience fell silent. Cui Yongyuan said nothing, watching him — something was probably up.

"It got cut off again," Fang Hong looked up.

"Clap! Clap! Clap!" Encouraging applause erupted in the venue; no one laughed—everyone's faces were solemn and serious.

But the Macau television stations hadn't cut it—they couldn't reach here yet—and the online live stream was also untouched.

Internet content regulation is still not strict enough; even films like Soul Ferry can appear—how strict could it possibly be?

"I love the Macau Film Festival because it possesses a unique, captivating charm that no other film festival can match."

"We must treat every film as if it were our first. I believe this is the conscience of us filmmakers, the conscience we owe to society, the conscience we owe to this craft. Even if you silence us, even if you never let us speak again, cinema will still retain its beautiful colors."

Cui Yongyuan spoke beautifully, and the audience erupted in another round of enthusiastic applause.

"Yes, a good film can lead people toward goodness and provoke thought. We gain different insights from it—what you see, what you think about, no one can control."

Fang Hong's words urged people to think for themselves; then he shifted tone: "Actually, when I took over this award ceremony, I had no other motive—I simply refused to be bound by geography, by ideology, by all kinds of other restrictions."

"Everything here speaks through film, through the work itself. No matter where you come from, whether you have connections or not—if your film is allowed to be screened, it can win here."

"Gong Huang, do you know why you didn't win at the Golden Horse Awards on Baodao?"

Gong Huang shrugged, pretending ignorance—though she knew perfectly well, she was merely playing along with Fang Hong to let him continue.

Thousands of spectators in the venue, tens of millions watching online—all watched, all listened.

"Because you're not from Baodao," Fang Hong directly pierced through the veil.

The entire audience reacted with shock—it was a direct attack on the Golden Horse Awards, accusing them of discrimination.

The Principal is the Principal—majestic and commanding!

"Is Teacher Tao Zeru here?" Fang Hong looked toward the audience, wondering whether he'd finished his press interviews.

Tao Zeru raised his hand from among the guests.

"Do you know why your film Song of the Phoenix didn't win Best Actor at the Golden Rooster Awards?" Fang Hong asked directly.

Tao Zeru, earnest and simple, looked utterly bewildered.

"Because you have no relatives—others do," Fang Hong bluntly exposed the inner workings of the Golden Rooster Awards.

The guests and audience below sat stunned—the Principal truly says anything, says it fearlessly, completely unafraid of offending anyone.

He accused the Golden Horse of discrimination; he said the Golden Rooster makes winning impossible without connections or background.

The Principal's words perfectly captured the cruel reality of the entertainment industry.

Even Cui Yongyuan was impressed—he thought he was invincible, but this man was even bolder.

"Clap! Clap! Clap!" Spontaneous applause rose from the audience.

Many clapped fiercely, supporting the Principal—they knew he spoke the truth, and they felt it.

Liu Tianxian clapped fiercely too, supporting the man on stage.

"Don't clap—I'm just describing a phenomenon currently happening in the entertainment industry, including many award ceremonies: if you're not good-looking, if you're not noticed, it's extremely hard to win. Under equal acting conditions, judges sometimes cast their votes for the good-looking, popular, noticed ones."

"Why? Because you bring them no value—they don't care how good your film is."

"For example, last year's Golden Rooster Best Supporting Actress went to Wang Luodan—wasn't Chi Peng's performance better? She acted excellently, but she lost to reality, lost to reasons no one can explain, with no recourse."

Fang Hong spread his hands, expressing helplessness.

"Of course, you might ask: do ugly, unpopular people have no way out? There is a way—but it's extremely hard!"

"Someone like Feng Kuzi, who's ugly yet still popular—that's a legend. Most people can never become him."

Fang Hong was dragging Feng Kuzi out for public shaming—but given the Principal's current capital and status, he could name anyone in the entertainment industry without consequence.

Who could do anything to him? He's not even the one who needs to worry about harming others.

"The first thing I did after taking over the Macau Film Festival was to say: Fairness!"

"Because I'm inside this circle, and my position gives me a clearer view of what this industry truly is than anyone else here."

"So I want to break some rules, break some traditions—to give true filmmakers, those slowly becoming unfit for this circle, a channel to win awards, so more people can see their presence."

"Not just focusing on traffic, on good-looking, noticed people—they already have capital promoting them; we don't need to lick their dirty feet."

(End of Chapter)