Chapter 39: Taking Control of the Camera Setup

Two days later, under the supervision of Huang Baiming, they prayed to the gods for safety and announced that filming of *Eight Stars Bring Good News* had officially begun. Interestingly, while many journalists in the 21st century were keen on covering the start of a film, few showed up for interviews this time—those who did were only there to interview the lead actors.

Since the coordinator had already informed the actors about what would be filmed that day, Xiao Ran felt relaxed. He simply waved at the actors and crew, asking them to take their positions. The first day’s scene involved all the lead actors dining together—a scene that required careful handling of tension, as each character’s emotions had to be distinct, making it not easy to manage.

“Camera… lights… actors… are you ready?” Xiao Ran circled around, seeing that the rest of the crew was attentively waiting for his signal. He suddenly felt like a commanding general about to go into battle. Suddenly, he shouted, “ACTION!”

The already quiet studio became utterly silent, with only the faint sound of the camera in operation. Xiao Ran stepped up to one of the cameras and stood quietly, observing the performances of all the actors in the set. The script supervisor followed closely, taking notes on the filming progress.

Everything appeared well-organized, and Xiao Ran nodded in satisfaction. Huang Baiming had indeed brought him experienced people. Then, conflicts between the characters as described in the script began in the set. Xiao Ran raised his hands in front of his face, observing for a while. Seeing that, aside from two fixed cameras, the other three were moving, he nodded in approval.

Actually, this film didn’t require many cinematic techniques—even the shooting skills didn’t need to be highly sophisticated; a straightforward shot was usually sufficient, which was easy to control. This was one of the key reasons Xiao Ran chose *Eight Stars Bring Good News*…

Filming this scene wasn’t difficult, but the real challenge lay in presenting everything that happened at the dinner table appropriately while also considering each character’s emotions. In other words, it was necessary to first show the whole picture before breaking it down into individuals, while still maintaining the overall sense of the scene—this required considerable directing skill.

So, after consulting with assistant director Lao Jianhua, Xiao Ran assigned two cameras to keep focusing on the dinner table. Of course, camera tracks were also needed. In this setup, the other three cameras were used to capture close-ups of the conflicting characters, so that the final edit could achieve the desired effect.

Just as Xiao Ran was lost in thought, another assistant director, Luo Wenqiang, gently called out, “Director, it’s time for CUT!”

“Oh? CUT!” Suddenly alert, Xiao Ran hurriedly glanced around the set and ordered a stop. Seeing this, Lao Jianhua shook his head repeatedly. He quickly pulled Xiao Ran aside and whispered, “Director, this won’t work. It’s your first time directing—you need to learn how to control the crew. Otherwise, they won’t respect you!”

Xiao Ran was stunned for a moment before quickly asking what exactly had happened or what he needed to know as a director. Lao Jianhua sighed. He was actually a good person with no intention of playing political games. Otherwise, how could he have remained an assistant director for over a decade without ever becoming the official director?

After listening to Lao Jianhua’s explanation, Xiao Ran finally understood. Although he knew quite a bit about Hong Kong cinema, he had never experienced it firsthand, so many things were unclear to him. Take directing, for example—it’s not easy at all.

A director not only needs directing skills but also the ability to control those under him. To a director, everyone on set is under his control, from those doing menial tasks to celebrities. Only by having everything under control can a director gather the necessary resources to produce a good film.

Most people working in Hong Kong’s film industry have relatively low educational levels, coming from ordinary backgrounds, and it’s quite common for them to use vulgar language. If a more refined director can’t keep the situation under control, they might get provoked after just a few words.

Take the lighting technician, for instance. There’s a saying that lighting technicians are like “gods of light.” If you offend them and they mess up the lighting during filming, it can cause significant damage to the crew. So, a director doesn’t necessarily have to swear constantly, but they must be able to keep these people in check; otherwise, it’s hard to make a good film.

Basically, each job on set operates like its own system. Technical staff are one thing, but those who don’t rely much on skills and do physical labor often have connections and can’t be easily offended.

After listening to Lao Jianhua’s account, Xiao Ran felt a chill. He thought it would be simple, but turning out to be a director wasn’t as easy as he imagined. There were so many interpersonal relationships to handle—it was truly headache-inducing.

However, he now understood why there were rumors that many Hong Kong directors liked to swear on set. Think about it—if they can’t control the crew, how can the film even proceed!

“You’re a director for the first time, so you must show them who’s in charge right away. Otherwise, they’ll definitely rebel!” Lao Jianhua quickly gave Xiao Ran, who was deep in thought, some advice.

Show them who’s in charge? Xiao Ran smiled bitterly inwardly. If it were someone like Wang Jing, who had deep roots in the film industry, it might be okay. But for someone like him, new to the field and still young, if he acted too harsh from the start, things might not turn out as planned!

Shaking his head involuntarily, Xiao Ran decided to put the matter aside for now and think about it later. With Huang Bai Ming as the lead actor and producer, things probably wouldn’t go too wrong. Still, he knew he had to find a solution to this issue.

Putting that aside, Xiao Ran checked the footage. The cinematography was good, and the performances of actors like Feng Baobao were also decent. However, he felt that Zheng Yuling and Zhou Runfa’s performances were a bit different from what he was used to. After some thought, he decided to talk to them about it.

Zheng Yuling and Fa Ge were both retouching their makeup. Xiao Ran approached them, hesitating for a moment, wondering what tone to use to explain what he wanted. Under their gazes, after a brief pause, he said, “Dudu, the character you’re playing really loves Fa Ge, but at the same time, you also hate his infidelity. So, in your performance, you might as well be a bit more expressive!”
“Director, what do you mean by ‘more expressive’?” A hint of confusion flashed in Zheng Yuling’s eyes; she clearly didn’t understand Xiao Ran’s meaning.
Xiao Ran pondered for a while. Zheng Yuling was now an artist at TVB and hadn’t achieved much in films yet. In 1983, she starred in “Flower City” and won the Best Newcomer award. There’s an interesting story behind that award.
At the 3rd Golden Horse Awards, the judges initially didn’t plan to give her the Best Newcomer award because Zheng Yuling was already quite famous in television at the time. Giving her such an award would seem absurd. Yet she eventually won it, and the Golden Horse Awards established the definition for Best Newcomer, which has been used ever since.
Now Zheng Yuling was indeed popular, but only in television; in the film industry, she was still a newcomer. It wasn’t until she starred in “The Two Amazing Heroines” that she became famous. Her later role in “Stars, Moon, and Sun” earned her a spot at the 25th Golden Horse Awards, making her one of Hong Kong’s most popular actresses. However, by the mid-1990s, she gradually stopped acting, so her fame in the mainland wasn’t as great as that of Lin Qingxia and others.
Zheng Yuling’s acting skills were undeniable. Having acted in so many TV dramas for years, it would be absurd if she didn’t have excellent acting skills. But acting on TV and in films are two different things. Zheng Yuling’s performance still hadn’t shown any personal style, so it was normal that she didn’t quite understand Xiao Ran’s meaning.
After figuring out what he meant, Xiao Ran smiled and explained, “What I mean is, when Fa Ge is nice to you, you can act gentle and virtuous. When you find out he’s cheating on you, you can act more fierce and assertive. It’s okay to be a bit more expressive!”
Zheng Yuling thought for a moment, then immediately adopted a pose with her hands on her hips and wide eyes, before disappearing. She then said to Xiao Ran with a smile, “Director, do you think this works?”
Xiao Ran was stunned. Truly, her acting skills, honed through countless TV dramas, allowed her to quickly grasp the right approach with just a little guidance. Nodding in approval at Zheng Yuling, he turned his attention to Fa Ge, who had been watching nearby: “Fa Ge, could you relax your performance a bit more?”
In Xiao Ran’s view, Fa Ge’s performance wasn’t bad, but it clearly lacked something. Before Fa Ge could speak, Xiao Ran continued, “This is a comedy. You can act as exaggeratedly as possible—there’s no need to be too conventional!”
To Xiao Ran, Fa Ge’s performance had been too conventional; even his portrayal of a effeminate character seemed too real. While this impressed Xiao Ran greatly, it wasn’t what he wanted. He needed Fa Ge to be more exaggerated, so as to shed that overly formal, artistic vibe.

After Xiao Ran explained it, Fa Ge immediately understood. The filming went smoothly from then on without any problems. Later, Xiao Ran went through each of the main actors and explained what he needed.

Zhang Xueyou had just started her career in both singing and acting, so naturally she didn’t have much acting experience. But as Xiao Ran knew, she performed very seriously. Feng Baobao was a veteran actress who had started as a child star, so acting came naturally to her.

As for Yuan Jieying, she, like Zhang Xueyou’s wife Luo Meiwei, was part of the Happy Girls group, which was promoted by New Art City. To be honest, it was Huang Baiming who made them famous. Don’t underestimate this group; in this era, they were extremely popular, and each girl in the group had her own unique personality. In fact, almost everyone who left the group achieved success on their own.

Yuan Jieying was the one with short hair in the Happy Girls group, with a rather stubborn personality. Huang Baiming discovered her because of the attitude she showed when breaking up with her boyfriend. As for Huang Baiming, he was an experienced actor who could easily play roles he was good at.

After finishing filming, Xiao Ran said goodbye to the crew and Fa Ge, then rushed off to buy a gift. It was Yang Wei’s birthday, and she had hinted to Xiao Ran earlier that he couldn’t miss it.

When he arrived at Yang Wei’s house, Xiao Ran glanced around and was immediately stunned—there was only Yang Wei in the house. With countless thoughts racing through his mind, he sat down on the sofa and handed her the gift. “Happy birthday. By the way, where’s your brother?”

“He’s at the company now. He’ll be back soon. Do you need to see him?” Yang Wei held the gift tightly, as if it were a precious treasure.

Seeing Yang Wei’s affectionate look, Xiao Ran quickly shook his hands to deny it. “No, no, just asking casually. By the way, you must have invited many friends today. Why don’t I see any of them?”

“This time, I don’t want it to be too lively!” Yang Wei gave Xiao Ran a subtle glance before quickly looking away. She stood up and went to the kitchen. “What do you want to drink?”

“Anything will do!”

(In this chapter, I need to clarify that Yang Wei and her brother Yang Qi are foreshadowing elements. Maybe readers won’t like it in the next chapter and think it’s too cliché, but please don’t call me stupid—there’s a purpose to this writing, just like how the Fang siblings are also foreshadowing elements.)