Chapter 259: Designing the Look

Acting opposite Ge Daye isn't easy—he's famous in the industry for his acting.

So Cheng Chen felt immense pressure, even though their scene together was just a few lines.

But Cheng Chen had rehearsed it countless times privately, just to nail this scene today.

"Don't be nervous, this scene is simple."

Ge Daye had already risen from his reclining chair and walked over with a smile to greet Cheng Chen.

Cheng Chen smiled and said:

"How could I not be nervous? You're Ge You."

Later generations would judge: any drama featuring Ge You was essentially guaranteed to succeed!

On one hand, he was picky about scripts—though Code Name Cougar was an exception, that was the film even Director Zhang had failed.

On the other hand, his acting guaranteed the entire drama's quality!

He came from an artistic family: his father, Ge Cunzhuang, was a film actor, and his mother worked as a script editor at the Jingcheng Film Studio.

You could say the whole family was immersed in film and television.

Despite this background, he disliked performing as a child.

Even when teachers ordered him to perform in kindergarten, he refused.

When he grew up and was sent to the commune for rural labor, his frail physique landed him in pig farming.

Later, he realized this couldn't go on—he couldn't spend his whole life raising pigs.

So in 1979, Ge You took leave to return to the city and took the entrance exam—he applied to China's art academies but failed.

Afterward, Ge Daye grew more determined and signed up for the exam of the All-China Federation of Trade Unions Art Troupe.

During his audition, he performed the skit "Feeding Pigs," impressed the judges, and was accepted into the All-China Federation of Trade Unions Art Troupe.

In China's film and television circle, there were a few stars shining with boundless brilliance.

"Great Sage Equaling Heaven" Zhang Weijian, the perpetually unlucky Xu Zheng.

"Big Person" Bao Bei'er, and others—but these bald-headed stars immediately bowed down when they met this "Senior."

He was Mainland China's first Cannes Best Actor winner, hailed as the King of New Year Films!

So, how could Cheng Chen not feel pressure?

……

"Alright, all departments, prepare—action!"

In the palace set, Feng Xiaogang shouted through a megaphone.

At his command, the entire crew sprang into action.

Ge Daye wore a loose dragon robe, holding a mask, with Cheng Chen and the Grand Sacrificial Officer standing behind him.

His fingers threaded through the mask's eye holes; Ge Daye seemed transformed, radiating authority:

"Look at this mask—what do you two ministers think?"

The Grand Sacrificial Officer hurriedly replied:

"Heaven's mandate has been fulfilled! Your Majesty is the true Son of Heaven! No one can oppose it!"

Ge Daye turned around, his expression growing even more stern:

"If I hadn't acted wisely, you two would be saying 'Heaven's mandate has been fulfilled' to someone else…"

The three stood in a triangle; in a sense, this scene was primarily Emperor Li intimidating his two ministers.

When Ge You didn't smile or deliberately crack jokes, he was still deeply imposing.

Especially now, standing in the central position, with everyone else looking up at him, his aura was chilling.

"Sweating profusely, trembling with fear—Grand Sacrificial Officer, what's wrong with you?"

Ge Daye asked, knowing the answer all too well.

Hearing this line, Cheng Chen finally understood the critical importance of an actor's line delivery.

At this moment, Ge Daye's line appeared to question the Grand Sacrificial Officer, but was in fact deliberately probing.

You've already shown your hand—I know. Don't be nervous.

For Emperor Li to say this, it wasn't grand in tone, yet it was impossible to ignore.

Because he was openly telling you—or slyly, sarcastically, warning you.

If this were delivered by certain modern actors, they'd barely articulate the lines, let alone achieve the dramatic effect.

For years, Ge Daye's comedic roles had formed a fixed impression in audiences' minds.

So for him, the greatest challenge in playing Emperor Li wasn't his acting skill.

It was erasing the comedic image people associated with him when portraying such a tragic character.

Emperor Li had to avoid falling into a shallow, cheap, superficial domineering air.

At this moment, Cheng Chen truly felt Ge Daye had successfully shaped this character as a romantic, passionate tyrant.

"Sweating all over your face and head… Yin Sun."

"Your servant is here!"

Cheng Chen's makeup was designed to make him look middle-aged, so he wore a fake mustache.

Dressed in full armor, gripping a long saber, he looked heroic and formidable.

His costume had been specially researched and designed by the costume team.

On the shoulder plates of the armor were painted ink-wash landscapes and calligraphy.

The back of the armor could hold a blade; the entire set consisted of over ten components.

You should know that this armor weighed over forty jin—though the character's presence was fully realized.

But after a single scene, the actor was usually utterly exhausted.

Fortunately, Cheng Chen's physical condition was good, and since his rebirth he had never stopped training, which allowed him to endure it.

Only then did Ge Daye speak slowly:

"Your father has had a hard life—stay home and spend more time with him."

"I am on military duty; I dare not linger."

Cheng Chen portrayed Yin Sun, a general, and his tone unconsciously grew heavier.

Hearing this, Ge Daye let out a light laugh and turned away:

"Military duties? Even if you're not here, the sky won't fall."

Now it was Cheng Chen's turn to be stuck—this remark carried increasingly sharp warning.

Fortunately, the Minister of Rituals spoke up in time to answer for his son, kneeling and saying:

"Your Majesty's favor fills me with boundless gratitude; I kowtow to thank the heavenly grace."

Ge Daye turned around and handed the mask in his hand to the Minister of Rituals, saying:

"I dislike seeing false faces. Leave."

A double entendre, directly exposing the father and son's thoughts—this is what it means to serve a sovereign as if serving a tiger.

In this whirlpool of political struggle, everyone acts involuntarily; to call them insincere is fair.

On the surface they appear solemn, but inside their minds are filled with filthy thoughts.

Every action and every thought can find a lofty excuse, like "fate" or "heaven's will."

For the old fox, the Minister of Rituals, who had served three emperors without ever being ousted:

He had already been tested in political storms, enduring countless trials and examinations.

His political instincts were sharp, and even at the cost of sacrificing power, he was ruthless enough.

Yet in the end, he still took a wrong step.

He never dreamed his glorious life would be lost to a woman, stripped of his army and military authority.

In the end, his life concluded with exile three thousand li away.

Yin Sun was not suited for politics—or rather, he lacked sufficient calmness and cruelty.

Otherwise, he would not have been manipulated by a woman even in a favorable position, and ultimately killed by her.

His sister's death threw him into disarray, robbing him of his composure.

The old adage "beautiful women bring disaster" proved true again on him—ironically, this beautiful woman was his own sister…

The filming of this scene went smoothly, with only about three or four takes needing retakes.

Yet in this scene, Cheng Chen's role carried little weight.

His earlier worries settled with the end of this scene.

In fact, the entire film had high artistic merit and demanded great skill from its actors.

Fortunately, everyone present were battle-hardened "veteran actors," with no flaws in their performances.

"The Banquet," as Feng Xiaogang's transitional work, mobilized several top-tier stars and massive funding.

Although the box office was sufficient, the storytelling had shortcomings—it was slightly disjointed, and its thematic message unclear.

Of course, this was still Feng Xiaogang's transitional phase between commercialism and melancholy.

Perhaps the story was not admirable, but its elegant style alone earned it some praise.

"The Banquet" thus began Feng Xiaogang's "tragic" journey.

Later works like "The Assembly" and "Tangshan Earthquake" were masterpieces among masterpieces.

Using "elegance" as a path, he finally became a standout among the Fifth Generation directors!

"Good, cut!"

The final segment of this scene was Ge Daye's solo performance, with virtually no retakes.

This filled Cheng Chen, watching from the side, with genuine admiration.

To him, acting seemed as simple as eating and drinking.

"How did it feel?"

During the transition, Feng Xiaogang stood beside Cheng Chen and asked with a smile.

"Uh… hard to say—Ge Daye is amazing!"

"Hahaha, he's amazing, alright. Though I had full confidence in him, I still think he should avoid such roles in the future."

Cheng Chen looked at Feng Xiaogang, but Feng Xiaogang did not continue.

Still, Cheng Chen understood and nodded—he preferred Ge Daye's performance as Tang Shiye in "Let's Bullet Fly."

At the time, the two characters in it that interested him most were Tang Shiye and Huang Silang.

They were the most typical examples.

One was the tyrant of E Cheng, who rose from opium trafficking and committed every evil in E Cheng.

The other was Tang Shiye, an official who bought his rank for profit, living only for wealth, with the sharp instincts and business acumen of a fox.

Tang Shiye was especially formidable—don't mistake him for timid and subservient.

Though he operated from behind the scenes, he never lost…

Therefore, Zhang Muzhi never gave up.

Huang Silang never died; Tang Shiye never lost.

Besides such cunning, scheming roles, Ge Daye's greatest strength was portraying common folk.

Like Zhang Jingcheng in "Beijing Hello."

Ge Daye portrayed an ordinary Beijing taxi driver named Zhang Jingcheng.

He was vain, fond of boasting, a bit talkative, yet also warmhearted and kind.

Zhang Jingcheng's life was a bit "down and out"—divorced from his wife, and his relationship with his son was nothing special.

But he was still humorous and optimistic, calm and composed.

In fact, what Zhang Jingcheng portrayed was an ordinary person.

He wasn't some big shot, nor was he a perfect man.

He was just a common folk with a few small flaws.

His son said to him, "My feet are already this big."

In truth, he was telling his father that you never truly cared about me.

From Zhang Jingcheng's perspective, a middle-aged man who bustled about for a living every day was bound to be a bit rough around the edges in his thoughts.

But his concern for his son was, after all, sincere…

Look, Ge Daye was suited to play such a role—down to earth and lifelike.

For roles similar to "The Banquet," Ge Daye later also took on Chen Kaige's directed "Sacrifice."

Mm, a Chen Kaige production…

Cheng Chen had just stepped off the set when Lao Mou Zi's phone call came through.

Telling him to hurry over to the set.

This set naturally referred to the set of "Curse of the Golden Flower."

Cheng Chen was a little surprised—lately "Golden Flower" had no scenes for him.

But Lao Mou Zi was pressing him urgently and didn't go into detail about what it was about.

Cheng Chen mentioned it to Feng Xiaogang, and Feng Xiaogang expressed understanding—after this scene was filmed, "The Banquet" had no scenes for Cheng Chen either.

He could head to the other set with peace of mind.

Juggling two productions—it's bound to be a bit more grueling.

……

When Cheng Chen arrived at the set of "Golden Flower," Lao Mou Zi immediately pulled him into a large tent hastily erected on the set.

"Look here, these are the fou you mentioned. I just feel like these are a bit lacking, it's just…"

Zhang Yimou gestured excitedly—a good several fou stood right before them.

These were what Lao Mou Zi had hurriedly commissioned after hearing Cheng Chen's suggestion.

"No grandeur?"

Cheng Chen said aloud.

In his heart, though, he was grumbling—so the reason Lao Mou Zi had called him over in such a rush was about the Olympic fou business.

He had thought there was a scene to film—was this considered using public resources for private purposes?

Of course, Cheng Chen definitely wouldn't dare say that.

Looking carefully at the fou Lao Mou Zi had commissioned, Cheng Chen nearly burst out laughing.

This thing… was a real fou.

In our country's history, "Ge Fou" was also called "Ge Ou."

"Fou" usually referred to an earthenware basin.

In other words, the ancients' Ge Fou was rhythmically striking earthenware basins.

What stood before Cheng Chen was indeed an earthenware basin—looking extremely crude, no wonder Lao Mou Zi had rushed to call him back.

Just imagine—at the Olympics, 2,008 performers collectively striking basins on the square, what a scene that would be…

Just thinking about it is laughable!

Cheng Chen gave a dry cough and said:

"Director Zhang, while the fou's true form is like this, we absolutely don't have to use this.

What we call Ge Fou Er Ge refers roughly to such a mood—welcoming guests from afar!

So I think it should be like this…"

Cheng Chen noticed paper and pen beside him, so he simply sketched a rough outline on the paper and said:

"This is called a Bing Jian (ice vessel), unearthed in 1977 from the Zeng Hou Yi Da Mu in Suizhou City. Unearthed in the same period was the famous Hou Yi Bian Zhong (bell set).

Bing Jian—as the name suggests, was used to chill fruits, vegetables, and drinks. It had an inner chamber where food could be placed, and ice was put into the interlayer."

As Cheng Chen's pen moved, a square-shaped "furnace cauldron" leapt onto the paper.

Zhang Yimou looked at the Bing Jian on the paper, a glint of pleasant surprise in his eyes.

But suddenly he couldn't help asking:

"But this isn't a fou either!"

In fact, regarding this question, some later-era experts also complained.

Publishing articles condemning Zhang Yimou for his lack of careful work, mixing two completely different ancient implements together, misattributing one to the other—utterly absurd.

Cheng Chen, however, said with a smile:

"We simply took the beautiful meaning of Ge Fou Er Ge. If we used real fou without any design,

then under global television broadcast, our hundreds and thousands of warriors would have to hug 'earthenware pots' and dance for joy… that really wouldn't look very nice."

Hearing this, Zhang Yimou nodded and said:

"Indeed so."

Cheng Chen said with feeling:

"I think history needs to be respected, but history isn't rigid either.

Because we are, at every moment, living within the course of history. You could also say that we ourselves are history.

Perhaps, a thousand years from now, our descendants will also tell a story like this:

"Our ancestors, as far back as a thousand years ago, were already powerful enough to hold the world's greatest grand event in their own homeland.

It was also from that time onward that our China's ice-lantern form was remade into a musical instrument capable of representing our Chinese civilization."