novellhall Chapter 71 Venice Handbook Homepage
Chapter 71 Venice Handbook Homepage
The DV recording light went out.
Zhang Yuan ejected the cassette tape, labeled it, and stuffed it into the side pocket of the equipment bag.
Wei Cheng was carried out of the steps by Wu Gang, his heels scraping against the cement ground, leaving two wet streaks.
The air-raid shelter fell silent again.
Su Wan gathered the documents spread out on the table—a disc containing interview videos, a printout of audio summaries, an authentication report with the official seal of the health system, Lin Qingqiu's medical examination form before joining the production team, and a miniature copy of the six sets of action design drawings for the Bell Tower Opera.
She picked up the phone and dialed Vincent.
"I'll send the complete set of materials to your Paris email within twenty minutes. It includes interview videos, audio excerpts, doctor's certificates, and motion design drawings. You can then forward it to the Venice Technical Committee."
"Su, shall we send it now?"
Vincent's voice was hoarse from jet lag, "I haven't read the contents yet—"
"No need to look at it. The original will be sent to the organizing committee at the same time; you are only responsible for forwarding it."
Vincent was flipping through the pages.
"Okay. But I have an idea."
"explain."
"The contents of the recordings—that experience with the dance troupe, the dinners, the practice rooms—if we package these into a promotional feature, 'Body Performance and Women's Traumatic Memories,' the European media will buy it. This kind of narrative works in Berlin and Venice; last year's Golden Lion winner's leading lady relied on something similar—"
"no."
Su Wan interrupted decisively.
"Vincent, listen carefully. All public statements will only discuss the creative process. The retired dancers' body control, the technical challenges of underwater filming, and the choice of choreography options. Not a single word about their private lives, not a single word about 1991."
"You're wasting a ready-made opportunity for viral content—"
"This angle was used to spread the word. Every reporter Lin Qingqiu faced on the red carpet pressed her for details about being locked in the practice room. She is an actress, not a victim."
There was a five-second pause on the other end of the phone.
"Are you sure? Buyers in Cannes like this kind of story."
"Venice is not Cannes."
Su Wan took out the reduced-size copy of the action choreography and clipped it to the back of the interview transcript with a paperclip. "Marco Müller selects films based on the films themselves. You're focusing your publicity on Lin Qingqiu's acting method—how a retired dancer uses body language to achieve dramatic expression. That's a solid line; there's no need to exploit her privacy."
"Su".
Vincent changed his tone, "How long have you been a producer?"
"Less than a year."
"One year."
Vincent repeated, "Okay, do as you say."
Before hanging up, he added, "I'll forward the materials as soon as they arrive."
Su Wan put down the phone, put the entire set of documents into a waterproof bag, sealed it, and affixed a seal.
Zhang Yuan peeked in.
"The fax machine is ringing."
Su Wan walked quickly to the old fax machine at the end of the corridor.
The thermal paper dispensed three sheets.
The sign above is the logo of the Venice Film Festival.
Italian text, with an English summary at the end.
Su Wan scanned the English section line by line, her finger pausing in the middle of the second page.
She folded the fax paper, walked through the corridor, and pushed open the door to the photo lab.
Chen Yan squatted in front of the water tank, using a magnifying glass to examine the imaging density of the second roll of film frame by frame.
Gu Changhe stood to the side, holding a measuring cup with pale yellow residue of medicine clinging to its sides.
"Venice is back."
Chen Yan did not look up.
"read."
Su Wan unfolded the fax paper.
"Lin Qingqiu's resume has been approved. The official handbook gives a separate half-page introduction to the female lead of 'Thunder.' The organizing committee has also arranged a roundtable discussion with overseas media, the time of which is yet to be determined. Participating media include AFP, Screen, and Variety."
The measuring cup in Gu Changhe's hand wobbled slightly.
Chen Yan placed the magnifying glass on the operating table and stood up.
"Half a page?"
"Half a page."
Su Wan handed over the fax paper. "Of the twenty-one films in this year's competition, no more than five will receive a separate half-page of actor introductions."
Chen Yan took it and scanned the original Italian text.
"Vincent should secure the media list for the roundtable. Prepare an interview outline in advance and only answer technical questions. For questions involving personal experiences, simply reply 'Please refer to the official manual.'"
"I've already told him."
Chen Yan glanced at her and handed the fax paper back to her.
"Bring the final poster design."
Zhang Yuan pulled a cardboard tube from the bottom of the equipment bag.
The poster roll was pulled out and laid on the worktable, with medicine bottles used to weigh down the four corners.
Composition: The ruins of the clock tower are in the foreground, with Lin Qingqiu's silhouette occupying two-thirds of the right side of the painting.
The color tone was cool, and the shadows were very deep, with only a ray of light shining through the cracks in the ruins onto the back of her neck.
The text area remains at the top of the image.
Chen Yan took out a pencil from his breast pocket and wrote two lines in the text area.
First line: Lin Qingqiu.
Second line: Director Chen Yan.
Zhang Yuan leaned over and took a look.
"Director's name on the second line?"
Chen Yan put the pencil away.
"Only when she stood firm could the film stand firm."
Zhang Yuan didn't respond.
He stared at Lin Qingqiu's back on the poster for a few seconds, then tightened the lid of the paper tube.
The sound of an engine came from the top of the steps.
It wasn't the diesel engine noise from the patrol car; it was the low-speed idle of the car's engine.
Wu Gang came down to give an announcement.
"Sister Lin has arrived."
Lin Shufen wore a dark gray long trench coat, carried a briefcase, and walked steadily on the cement steps in her high heels.
She scanned the air-raid shelter—a sink, medicine bottles, a film drying rack, and a DV camera still spinning in the corner.
"You're developing films in the air-raid shelter."
It is not a question.
She placed her briefcase on the counter, unzipped it, and pulled out two stacks of cash and a transfer receipt.
"I'll cover the 90,000 for Master Gu's son. An additional 300,000 will be allocated as a marketing reserve, to be deposited into my company's account. It will be deducted from the revenue share of the domestic roadshow."
Su Wan took the transfer voucher and checked the amount and account.
"Sister Lin, what's the revenue sharing percentage for the roadshow?"
"Follow the original contract, no additional clauses."
Lin Shufen interrupted her, "I'm not here to extort money."
She leaned against the edge of the control panel, her gaze falling on the stack of fax papers in Su Wan's hand.
"From Venice?"
Su Wan handed it to her.
Lin Shufen turned two pages and stopped at the line "single half page".
"You're giving me half a page of the manual? What did you negotiate?"
"It wasn't negotiated. The materials package was sent over, and the organizing committee made its own decisions."
"What materials?"
Su Wan opened the file bag and placed the interview video disc, action design drawings, and doctor's certificate in front of Lin Shufen one by one.
Lin Shufen flipped through the documents one by one.
When she flipped to the action design drawings, her finger paused for two seconds on the annotation of the third plan—it was a handwritten note by Lin Qingqiu, the handwriting crooked, that read: I will do this plan, no stunt double needed.
She closed the file and pushed it back into Su Wan's hands.
"Who's keeping an eye on Vincent's side?"
"I'll keep an eye on it."
"What about the time difference for international faxes?"
"I scheduled three time windows: 9 a.m., 2 p.m., and 8 p.m. in Paris. Each window corresponds to a batch of pending cases, and if you miss one, it will be postponed to the next one."
"Where are the domestic reporters? With this incident at the air-raid shelter today, what will the local newspapers write about tomorrow?"
"I bought the GG page in the tabloid. Lin Qingqiu's positive press release is placed next to the negative report, on the same page. Readers can judge for themselves."
Lin Shufen pulled her trench coat collar up a little higher.
The air-raid shelter was very damp.
She stared at Su Wan for several seconds.
"How old are you?"
"Twenty-two."
Lin Shufen didn't say anything more.
She took another business card from her briefcase and placed it next to Su Wan.
"This is my lawyer in Hong Kong. From now on, you can have him review the legal terms of overseas contracts directly. You don't need to wait for faxes from Beijing every time."
Su Wan picked up the business card and slipped it into her notebook.
"Thank you, Sister Lin."
"You're welcome."
Lin Shufen picked up her briefcase, took two steps toward the steps, and turned back. "I voted for Chen Yan because I was betting on his film. But I originally planned to have someone from my own team oversee the production."
She paused for a second.
"Not anymore."
The sound of high heels fading into the distance as they stepped onto the stairs.
Su Wan put the business card away and dialed Zhang Yuan's walkie-talkie.
"Has the fax of the pre-typeset manual been printed out?"
"It's out, it's on your desk."
Su Wan pulled out those few pages of thermal paper.
A4 size, simulating the layout of the official manual.
The left side features a thumbnail of a still from "Thunder," while the right half of the page is entirely dedicated to Lin Qingqiu—a still from the play, a summary of his resume, and a section for the director's comments.
The director's comments section was blank, with the organizing committee's note next to it: "Please have the director write a recommendation of no more than eighty characters."
Su Wan took the few pages of paper and walked to the door of the backup recording room in the film studio.
Lin Qingqiu sat on a folding chair.
The protective gear was still strapped to his waist, and his cane was resting horizontally on his knee.
Su Wan placed the pre-formatted manual in her hands.
Lin Qingqiu looked down.
In the still, she stands in front of the clock tower ruins, her back straight, the wind blowing her hair across half her face.
Her name was printed below, in a font size one size smaller than the film title but two sizes larger than the other actors' names.
She turned to the second page.
Resume summary.
Retired dancer, history of lumbar spine injury, core muscle recovery training period, date of joining the group, character name.
It's all true.
No embellishment, no rendering.
Lin Qingqiu folded the paper and placed it on her knees.
She didn't say anything.
Su Wan picked up a cloth tote bag from behind her and placed it on the chair next to Lin Qingqiu.
A corner of the deep red satin peeks out from the bag opening.
"The cheongsam for the red carpet. Lin Jie found a tailor to make it to your measurements."
Lin Qingqiu opened the bag, her fingertips touching the satin surface.
"The waist belt has been reinforced with stiff padding, so the protective gear is not visible when standing upright."
Su Wan added, "Don't bend over on the red carpet."
Lin Qingqiu pulled her hand back from the bag opening.
"Chen Yan put my name first on the poster."
"You saw it."
Why?
Ask him.
Lin Qingqiu didn't ask any more questions.
She picked up the pre-formatted manual again, flipped back to the first page, and stared at the still from the play.
At the other end of the corridor, the fax machine rang again.
Su Wan walked over and tore off the thermal paper.
From: Vincent.
The main text consists of only three lines of English.
After reading it, Su Wan held the paper in her hand and quickly returned to the printing room.
Chen Yan is numbering the negatives for the third volume.
"Vincent just posted this."
Su Wan slapped the fax paper onto the control panel.
Chen Yan put down his pen and looked down.
First line: Miramax Pictures inquires about the North American distribution rights for "Thunder".
Second line: The other party's representative has arrived in Venice.
The third line: Represents his name—Harvey Weinstein.
Chen Yan rested his hand on the film canister lid, his thumb rubbing the edge of the metal sheet.
Gu Changhe peeked over the sink and saw the name on the fax paper.
He didn't recognize the person, but he recognized the speed at which Su Wan rushed over with that piece of paper in her hand.
Chen Yan folded the fax paper and stuffed it into his shirt pocket.
Tell Vincent he won't see him. Tell him to wait.
Su Wan opened her mouth.
"When?"
"Wait until he watches 'Thunder' in the screening room on Lido Island."
Chen Yan picked up the magnifying glass and bent down again to aim at the third roll of film.
The explosion-proof light above the control panel cast a yellow glow, illuminating the frozen clock tower on the film—the frame where the bricks and stones crumbled, and the woman's arm pierced the water, her fingertips pointing upwards.