Chapter 115: King of Venice (Limited Time Free Flexing)!

September 7th, Venice time, one day before the awards ceremony, at the jury committee office.

"Li! I hope you will leave some spots for European films! This is not Hollywood! And this is not Beiping!"

"This is Venice! Venice, which takes opposing Hollywood as its own mission!"

The first to raise the banner of rebellion was Jacques Audiard, a French screenwriter who won Best Screenplay at Cannes in 1996.

Gong Li’s English name is just Gongli; the other jurors on the committee all called her Li, as foreigners find that word easier to pronounce accurately.

She disdained giving herself an English name and was even unwilling to speak English.

Gong Li did not give an inch; she slammed the table and stood up, unleashing a torrent of words at Jacques Audiard.

"What do you mean by 'leave some spots'? Good is good, bad is bad. Do we really need to consider so-called balance at the Golden Lion Awards?"

"Whether it's the balance between commercial appeal and art-house quality, the use of lens language, or the clever reversals in narrative structure, *Whiplash* is a grade higher than *The Magdalene Sisters*."

"Balance is not a reason for you to break the rules!"

According to word-of-mouth and audience response, the two films were evenly matched, but the European filmmakers were dissatisfied with Deharden’s suppression and wanted to make a final push at the Golden Lion Awards.

After all, the vast majority of the major awards handed out previously had gone to Asian and American films.

This was, after all, Venice—the home turf of the Europeans.

Seeing that Jacques was no match for her, Italian actress Francesca Neri also chimed in at the right moment.

"*Whiplash* has too much of a Hollywood flavor, which runs counter to the spirit of Venice. Besides, the Best Actor award has already been given to Feng Yuanzheng."

"I still believe Peter Mullan’s *The Magdalene Sisters* is better."

"That’s right! Or are you willing to give up the Best Actor award for *Whiplash*!"

"I support *The Magdalene Sisters*!"

"We demand to continue the voting!"

Peter Mullan is the director of *The Magdalene Sisters*.

He first became famous as an actor; film buffs should have all seen his *Trainspotting* and *Braveheart*.

His powerful connections within Europe also laid a solid foundation for this feature film to win the award.

In later generations, it was indeed this religious-themed film that won the Golden Lion.

The current situation was somewhat unfavorable.

Supporting *The Magdalene Sisters*: French screenwriter Jacques, Italian actress Neri, Turkish director Ustaoğlu, German producer Folsberg.

Supporting *Whiplash*: Chinese actress Gong Li, Hungarian cinematographer Kovács.

Among the seven jurors, there was also a Russian poet who was rather indifferent and had not clearly stated his position.

Gong Li glared at the six European jurors before her with an unfriendly expression, calculating in her heart how to make distant alliances and attack those nearby.

"Let's do this: set aside the Golden Lion for now, and let's choose the Jury Grand Prix Silver Lion first."

"I propose the Russian film *The Mental Hospital*!"

Gong Li looked intensely at the Russian juror Yevtushenko, who had entered the jury sequence as a poet; he returned a look of understanding.

It passed without much controversy.

Gong Li silently calculated the votes in her heart.

One vote from Russia, one vote from the Hungarian cinematographer Kovács—these were her relatively certain allies.

Three to four. What to do?

Should she abandon democracy and try to consolidate power first?

Suddenly, the conference room door was pushed open, and Chairman Deharden stepped inside.

"Jurors, please speed up the process. We need to leave enough time to notify the film crews."

He then pretended to ask Gong Li casually: "Li, what is the current result?"

"The Golden Lion is still left. There is some controversy, and we are still discussing it."

Jacques and the others keenly sensed that something was wrong and protested loudly.

"Mr. Chairman, please leave first. Discussing the award winners is the business of the jurors. You must respect the rules!"

Deharden smiled indifferently and did not argue with him, but before leaving, he gave the juror Folsberg a subtle look.

This was a veteran producer from Germany.

And he was the former chairman who had helmed the Berlin Film Festival for twenty years.

"Li, please decide on the Golden Lion film as soon as possible."

"Very well, Mr. Chairman."

Gong Li stood up, her hands pressing against the tabletop, her wide sleeves spread out over the conference table like an empress descending upon her realm.

"Everyone!"

"I am not saying *The Magdalene Sisters* is bad, but this film delves too deeply into religious subject matter. I believe it is a malicious provocation against Catholicism."

"You can all go look at the local newspapers in the Vatican. Mullan unfortunately extended the hypocrisy of religious figures to all priests."

"Is this the depth of the film? No! This is a gimmick! This is hype! This is using the banner of religion to curry favor!"

"I know you Europeans all have your own religious beliefs, but that cannot be a reason to sway the judgment of film art!"

"I am the jury president, and these are the rules I have set, as well as the rules of film art. There are no exceptions! And there is no such thing as balance!"

The six jurors looked at each other in dismay; they didn't understand, but they were greatly shocked.

Gong Li suddenly turned her head and said sternly to the translator: "Translate it word for word!"

Gong Li, coming from a background as a veteran actress, was very good at controlling emotions. She did not wait for the enemy to regroup and build up an offensive, but directly initiated the final vote.

If that still didn't work, she would have to use her power as jury president to forcibly award the Golden Lion to *Whiplash*.

But if that happened, it would be a blow to the authority of the award, and it would be far less convincing than a result obtained through voting.

"I propose that the winner of the 59th Venice Film Festival Golden Lion is: China, Lu Kuan, *Whiplash*!"

"Who supports this! Please raise your hand!"

The Russian poet Yevtushenko returned the favor and was the first to indicate his support.

Following closely was the Hungarian cinematographer Kovács.

Jacques and the others looked around, feeling very fortunate that they had just managed to chase Deharden away, not letting him find an opening to express his opinion or exert pressure.

He assumed the posture of a victor and raised his hand gracefully.

"Next, I propose..."

"I agree, *Whiplash*!"

Jacques and the others turned their heads abruptly; it was their staunch ally, the German producer Folsberg.

"You!"

Folsberg smiled: "I have been persuaded by President Gong Li. *The Magdalene Sisters* has unavoidable flaws regarding religious issues and contains anti-film behavior that deliberately panders. Many thanks to President Gong Li for the reminder that made me realize this."

"You're welcome, Mr. Folsberg!"

"Alright! The voting ends here. Meeting adjourned!"

Gong Li slammed the table and stood up, not giving the others a chance to react, and quickly ordered the staff to notify Chairman Deharden.

She also let out a long sigh of relief and sat back in the president's chair, thinking to herself that the matter was settled.

The empress's disdainful gaze swept over the dejected group of European filmmakers.

Did you think you were all Isabelle Adjani? You wanted to unite to suppress Asian films?

That year I was a juror, and I could still battle Adjani for three hundred rounds.

Now, I am the president!

My rules are the rules!

"This is a film that explores the pursuit of art and the extremes of human nature, filled with sweat, blood, explosive drum beats, and intense dramatic conflict. All of us jurors were deeply shocked by the ending of the story."

"A line of voice-over in the film left me unable to calm down for a long time: there is no evaluation more harmful than the two words 'not bad'!"

"Therefore, this is not just a 'not bad' film; it is a true masterpiece!"

"The film that ultimately wins this film festival's Golden Lion is!"

"*Whiplash*, China, Lu Kuan!"

"Congratulations to Lu Kuan!"

Gong Li domineeringly cheered on stage for China's *Whiplash* and the young director Lu Kuan; the European filmmakers were collectively struck dumb.

The audience below also stood up and applauded in coordination; these viewers who had crazily demanded extra screenings were undoubtedly the film's strongest supporters.

They didn't care which country the film was from; if it was good, they would praise it, and if it was bad, they would trash it.

If you don't believe it, go look at the "Give Me Back My Money" sign-waving campaign; it is exclusively European and American films.

"Xiao Lu! Congratulations!"

This was the rarely seen, crazily celebrating Tian Zhuangzhuang; he was happier than if he had won the award himself!

"Xiao Lu, you really did it!"

This was Feng Yuanzheng, who had just calmed his emotions. Previously, he had been quite regretful, thinking that since he had won Best Actor, the Golden Lion would likely go elsewhere.

"Lu Kuan! You are too awesome!"

This was Zhou Jielun, whose ankylosing spondylitis had just slightly eased; he ignored the occasion and blurted out a swear word.

"Fuck!"

This was Lu Tian, who felt as if he had a fishbone stuck in his throat, needles in his back, and was sitting on pins and needles.

"Fuck!"

This was Harvey, who regretted why he hadn't been a little more generous that day; perhaps he could have secured this Golden Lion film?

And what about Liu Yifei?

Liu Yifei was sitting right next to Lu Kuan, and she had already excitedly hugged him!

The young girl’s powerful arms tightly clamped around Lu Kuan’s body.

She was too excited! Too thrilled!

She had watched step by step how Lu Kuan staged a comeback from a desperate situation;

How he painstakingly guided her and Zhou Jielun, these two newcomers;

How he poured his heart and blood into running around and planning for the award;

Just like what Lu Kuan said to Feng Yuanzheng, Liu Yifei also really wanted to say one thing to him.

This is what you deserve.

Boss Lu: I’ll state this first, she is the one who hugged me; I certainly did not go against any woman’s will!

Even with a temperament honed over decades, the moment Gong Li announced it, his heart still skipped a beat, and at this moment, his soul flew out of this young Daoist priest’s shell.

It flew to his previous life, flew to the Beijing Film Academy, and flew to the University of Southern California.

It flew to that version of himself who had helplessly given up on his dreams during those wasted years.

He came back to his senses, first bowing to show respect to the audience and filmmakers who were giving him a standing ovation, then excitedly hugged Tian Zhuangzhuang, and quite mischievously planted a kiss on his old face.

Then came Feng Yuanzheng, and the shy and bashful Jielun.

As for Liu Yifei, forget it, the cameras are all rolling, wait until you grow up.

Tian Zhuangzhuang watched his figure striding onto the stage with deep emotion; this old filmmaker who had weathered many storms could not help but feel his heart stirred.

How many years had it been since the Beijing Film Academy produced a director like this, and how many years had it been since Venice had such a tidal wave of applause for Chinese-language cinema?

This young man, who had been penniless and whose first film was only barely completed after experiencing countless hardships, had finally reached the position that belonged to him.

Art films can give people the power to shock the soul, while special effects films can give people the power to shock the eyes.

And in a film that was almost entirely indoor scenes, the audience could find the characteristics of both.

This is a genius director’s ability to adapt and control a film.

Han Lu and Xie Xiao in the media interview area were extremely excited; having been in Venice for so many days, they had deeply felt the arrogance and prejudice of the West.

Even Black people here received more convenience than Asian faces.

Whether it was their interviews, or the arrangements for media positions and legal rights, they were all subtly targeted and squeezed.

At this moment, being able to see a Chinese director break through the shackles of nationality and culture to win such a brilliant award made them feel honored as well.

Lu Kuan walked onto the awards stage with an impressive demeanor, and the two hurriedly raised their equipment to film.

"Congratulations, Little Lu."

Gong Li reached out her hand with a radiant smile, but Boss Lu laughed and pulled her into a hug, tightly embracing this fellow Best Actress winner.

"Sister Gong Li, thank you!"

Gong Li was somewhat dazed by the strong masculine aura hitting her, and she gently patted Lu Kuan’s back.

She then smiled and handed over the microphone, looking with great poise at this unknown young director who had attained the Dao overnight.

"It took me twenty years to walk from a poor little mountain village in Jiangsu Province to the podium of the Venice Golden Lion Award."

The first sentence was such a heavy sentiment; Boss Lu had already begun to establish his persona as a small-town director and a genius youth.

It was just that if Zhuang Xu were present, he would definitely be able to see through him at a glance.

A poor little mountain village in Jiangsu Province?

That was the little mountain village of Su Daqiang in the country, the ancestral home of the Orthodox Unity Sect, alright!

A county-level city that could match the GDP of a prefecture-level city, and even more exaggeratedly, half of a small province!

The Daoist temples with good incense on Maoshan are just like the temples with good incense on Wutai Mountain; they have over a billion in their accounts.

Have you not heard of the Shanghai municipal government borrowing billions of funds from the Jing'an Temple in later generations?

And twenty years? You damn well spent at least eighteen years as a little Daoist priest swindling people.

He also didn't know how this junior brother, who had grown up with him since childhood, had suddenly become enlightened and seemed to be omniscient.

If one had to seek an explanation, it could only be said that the Wenchang Emperor in the dilapidated Daoist temple had manifested his spirit.

But the audience and filmmakers off-stage were all slightly moved; Lu Kuan’s fluent English made it easy for them to capture the bitterness and tears in his words.

This young director must have overcome countless hardships and obstacles to get to where he is today, right?

"Along the way, there are too many people to thank. I am an orphan, but I am not lonely."

"I have the best producer, Master Tian Zhuangzhuang, I have the most outstanding actor, Master Feng Yuanzheng, and the most professional actors, Jielun and Yifei."

"Including my cinematographer Ning Hao, Huang Bo who was willing to play a supporting role, and every member of our 'Whiplash' crew."

"This Golden Lion Award belongs to you, and it belongs to Chinese cinema! Thank you!"

The audience once again gave enthusiastic applause without reservation, and as he walked past the interview area, countless reporters swarmed over.

The European media, of course, were full of sour remarks.

"Lu, do you think your award is well-deserved?"

"Lu! Are you deliberately inserting Hollywood style into your film to please our festival chairman?"

"Lu, you were able to obtain funding and excellent actors to create a film in your twenties; do you have a red background with the government?"

What the hell kind of questions are these?

Boss Lu took the microphone with composure, using one force to overcome ten.

"Everyone, you've seen 'Titanic', right? I only have one line to answer you, only for today, only for this moment."

"I'm the king of the Venice!"

(End of chapter)