Chapter 0939 The Director's Duty

Sitting in the car, Zhao Fusheng and Jiang Wen both remained silent.

Both had something on their minds, and both were thinking about how to speak.

"Sometimes, I think a director is like a chef, except some chefs cook for people, while others cook for pigs. Take me, for example—I've cooked for people, and I've cooked for pigs. I strive to make the food I prepare look like it's meant for people."

Zhao Fusheng nodded: "A chef, indeed, must always study his own dishes. Actually, making a film is similar to doing business. Before conceiving and producing a product, you must study market demand and determine what the market needs. Determine who your target audience is."

"Be more specific."

Jiang Wen hadn't expected that his one remark would provoke so many reflections from Zhao Fusheng. He looked at Zhao Fusheng with keen interest, anticipating what he would say next.

Zhao Fusheng smiled slightly: "For example, are our customers common folks, the middle class, or those who appreciate a petty-bourgeois lifestyle? Or perhaps the wealthy who don't care about money? Different positioning means different services required. In other words, customers are gods; what they like must be of the highest quality. But the problem is, some people like Western food, some like hotpot, and others like stir-fries. As a chef, what you need to do is to make your dishes suit your customers' tastes as much as possible."

And as a director, what you need is to accurately position your work so that the audience can find resonance in the film, thereby achieving box office success.

Of course, if the resonance is strong enough, you might even reach the twin peaks of commercial success and critical acclaim.

"Very reasonable."

Jiang Wen listened to Zhao Fusheng's explanation, nodded, and seemed lost in thought.

One had to admit that, in many cases, most things share common principles.

Although Zhao Fusheng and Jiang Wen were engaged in two completely different professions, whether making commercials or films, to some extent, both aimed to please the audience and consumers.

Therefore, Zhao Fusheng could understand Jiang Wen's current mood.

He genuinely felt a sense of sorrow for the fox's death because the film *The Missing Gun* had been ruined by Ma Dajun.

"Though I'm reluctant to admit it, I have to say that for a good film, besides having a sufficient budget, the most important things are the script and the director. Actors' performances can be polished slowly, but if the script quality is subpar, actors alone cannot carry a film."

Zhao Fusheng looked at Jiang Wen and said earnestly: "I think you should understand what I mean."

"Yes, actors alone won't cut it." Jiang Wen sighed, deeply agreeing with Zhao Fusheng's words. For a good film, regardless of box office, the most important elements are the script and the director themselves.

The script goes without saying—a good script can completely transform a film's essence, and a good director's influence on the entire film is beyond doubt.

A director's work is hard and exhausting. You know, on a film set, there are usually hundreds of people. As the director overseeing the entire crew, from time to time someone will come and ask if this is okay or if that is acceptable, as if the director has a hundred brains, a hundred arms, a hundred mouths, and is omnipotent.

So, if you're not genuinely passionate about this profession, never try to be a director—it's truly too tiring.

But one must admit that a director is the soul of a work. Without a good director, whether a film is invested with one million, ten million, or even a hundred million, it won't yield good results.

The most obvious example is John Woo during the *A Better Tomorrow* period versus his *The Crossing* and *Red Cliff* periods—they are completely different levels.

John Woo during *A Better Tomorrow* was at a low point in his life, needing a good work to prove himself and increase his value. So the films he made were truly for the sake of vindication.

By the later period, he was purely relying on his past reputation, living off his laurels.

In fact, starting from *Windtalkers*, John Woo had already been on a downward slope, but some domestic investors simply couldn't see it clearly.

Regardless, the importance of a director is beyond doubt.

Take, for example, teaching acting.

What is teaching acting?

Simply put, if an actor encounters difficulties on set and cannot perform what the director and script require, the director must personally demonstrate or explain to the actor how they should perform at that moment.

But most domestic directors, when faced with this situation, choose to solve the problem with a bunch of adjectives.

"You need to be more exaggerated, more gentle..." Adjectives like these seem harmless, but in reality, everyone has their own standard for such adjectives. If the director cannot convey them clearly, it becomes a disaster for the actor.

In fact, Zhao Fusheng knew very well that Jiang Wen was actually dissatisfied with the film *Cell Phone*.

After all, given Old Jiang's pride, making such a film was undoubtedly a torment for him.

Even knowing there were deeper themes to explore, he couldn't touch them; he could only briefly skim over certain social issues. For Jiang Wen, that was not enough to satisfy him.

However, this film carried great hopes from Ye Jing and Zhao Fusheng, and they had invested a considerable amount of money. Jiang Wen knew he couldn't joke around with his friends.

He could afford to disregard whether he would be blacklisted for sending *Devils on the Doorstep* to Cannes, but he couldn't disregard Zhao Fusheng and Ye Jing, or even the investment Zhao Fusheng had secured from Future Film.

"Hey, don't overthink it." Zhao Fusheng looked at Jiang Wen's worried expression and said with a smile: "You forgot, we still have the script for *Bullets*."

Pausing to make himself appear more sincere, Zhao Fusheng smiled and said to Jiang Wen: "Don't worry, when you're truly able to make a film, I'll definitely let you shoot this script."

"Really?"

Jiang Wen raised an eyebrow, looking at Zhao Fusheng: "Promise?"

"Promise." Zhao Fusheng nodded firmly: "Although *Cell Phone* can't satisfy you, I promise you that *Bullets* will become a classic. And before that, we need to defeat Ma Dajun and the people behind him. Especially Ma Dajun—that bastard dared to stab us in the back. If we don't teach him a lesson, he won't know how many eyes the Lord of Hell has!"

As he said this, Zhao Fusheng's gaze turned icy. From start to finish, he had never intended to let Ma Dajun off.

Since Ma Dajun dared to provoke him, he had to be prepared to be ruined.

This world has always been cruel and cold.

Survival of the fittest, natural selection.