Chapter 53: Lecturing at Jinhuai University
A question mark immediately appeared on Lin Qingxia’s delicate face. Xiao Ran helplessly touched his nose and told her, “Today I have to give a lesson to the screenwriter hired by the company!”
“Let’s go together. I’m very curious!” Lin Qingxia’s beautiful eyes scanned Xiao Ran’s face, her smile revealing her curiosity clearly.
That was great—he hadn’t had the chance to explain his purpose earlier. Going together would allow him to discuss it as well. Without hesitation, Xiao Ran quickly got into Lin Qingxia’s car and headed there.
Upon arriving at a classroom at Jinhuai University, Luo Wenqiang, who was in charge of handling some of the company’s details, rushed over upon seeing them. “Boss, Manager Wei said you’d be giving a lesson today. Everyone’s waiting for you!”
As soon as Xiao Ran and Lin Qingxia stepped into the classroom, they were shocked—the large room was packed with enthusiastic young people. To Xiao Ran’s amusement, Wei Jiahui, the king of screenwriters, along with You Hai and You Zhi, were sitting obediently at their desks, ready to listen attentively.
Seeing Xiao Ran and Lin Qingxia’s expressions, Luo Wenqiang immediately explained with a smile, “Most of them are students from Jinhuai University’s Film Department. They really wanted to attend the class, so…”
Xiao Ran wasn’t unfamiliar with such scenes, but it was clearly different from when he was a journalist. This was a class, and what made things even more awkward was that Wei Jiahui and You Hai, two of Hong Kong’s top three screenwriters, were also there. Well…
Fortunately, Xiao Ran’s ego wasn’t as fragile as he thought, or perhaps he had gotten used to this status since arriving in this era. So, under the gazes of all the students, he walked over to Wei Jiahui and You Hai and deliberately lowered his voice, “Xiaobao, what are you doing here too?”
“Hehe, I really want to learn your screenwriting skills, so I came to listen!” Wei Jiahui winked at Xiao Ran, driving him crazy.
Realizing it was impossible to convince Wei Jiahui, Xiao Ran helplessly stepped onto the podium. Lin Qingxia sat beside him on a chair provided by Luo Wenqiang, her eyes shining with a strange light as she stared intently at Xiao Ran, looking like a monster from Mars.
“Uh, hello, everyone!” Xiao Ran forced himself to say those polite words. “Well, I really shouldn’t be standing here today. After all, Wei Jiahui’s screenwriting skills are even better than mine!”
“Screenwriter Xiao, stop being modest! Your scripts are amazing and make tons of money—there must be some secret!” a pretty student with a loud voice shouted.
Xiao Ran broke into sweat! His “secret” was plagiarism—could he possibly admit that? But it didn’t matter. Since he had agreed to give the lecture, he must have something up his sleeve; otherwise, he wouldn’t have been foolish enough to do this. Looking at the student, Xiao Ran quickly realized that he was respected only because none of his scripts had failed so far. In this era, box office success truly meant everything!
After calming himself slightly, he cleared his throat and glanced at Lin Qingxia, who was smiling nonstop beside him, before saying, “Actually, there’s no secret to writing screenplays. If I have to mention one, it might be market analysis!”
“A thorough and careful market analysis is very important. It helps us understand which themes are currently more popular and likely to generate high box office revenues, and which themes are less popular but can still become box office surprises!” As Xiao Ran finished speaking, he saw the previously handsome student raise his hand with a loud voice.
He nodded at the student and gestured with his hand to indicate that he could ask a question. The student stood up and said with a smile, “Screenwriter Xiao, my name is Lou Wen, and I’m from the directing department. I’d like to ask why we use the term ‘currently more popular,’ and why less popular themes can become box office surprises?”
Xiao Ran gradually entered his rhythm. He smiled slightly and nodded in approval at the student, saying, “Your question is excellent. This is exactly what I hope to remind everyone of. Any theme has potential. As long as you have a talentful pen that can turn the ordinary into the extraordinary, you can make that theme shine.”
“Although this might sound a bit arrogant, for simplicity’s sake, let’s take ‘A Hero’s Heart’ as an example.” Xiao Ran smiled confidently, as he had every reason to be confident: “It was called a ‘heroic film’ by critics and pioneered a new genre. But if we analyze it carefully, it’s still essentially a gangster theme! Before this film was released, we all saw whether gangster themes were popular, and what happened afterward is equally strong evidence.”
“While ‘A Hero’s Heart’ became popular, comedies and romances could also be successful films. This proves that there’s never just one theme a screenwriter can choose from—any theme has a chance to become popular. In fact, as long as a certain theme exists in the market, it must be popular. All it takes is for a screenwriter to write it well, and it will be a hit. And since we can’t predict the future, no one knows which theme will be popular tomorrow. So, it’s not just one theme that’s popular, but rather the currently more popular ones!”
“And less popular themes are definitely a fascinating choice. It’s like betting on horses—you can choose the one with the highest odds. If you succeed, the profits will be huge. Besides, there are no truly unpopular themes; it’s just that no other themes are more popular at the moment. So when you choose such a ‘less popular’ theme, you can use your screenwriting skills. With the right director, it can turn into a hit in no time!”
Lin Qingxia watched Xiao Ran on stage, who moved with great confidence, her eyes shining brighter and brighter. At this point, Xiao Ran smiled slightly and concluded, “In short, no matter what theme you choose, you need to think beyond what others can think—only then will success be yours!”
The students below nodded thoughtfully, and Lou Wen stood up again to ask, “What if the director fails to make it a success?”
“I think everyone might already know that I’ve directed a film, which will be shown to you soon,” Xiao Ran said with a chuckle, taking the opportunity to promote it, before answering seriously, “I’ve worked as both a screenwriter and a director. If you ask me which role is more important, I think the only answer I can give is that both are equally important. Perhaps it’s better to say that the most crucial thing is having perfect synergy between the two!”
Xiao Ran’s last statement was by no means a joke. A perfect partnership between a screenwriter and a director could indeed be extremely powerful. In the future, You Hai wrote scripts specifically for Du Zifeng, and their teamwork was almost flawless. Later on, without You Hai’s scripts, Du Zifeng found it difficult to create great works. Without Du Zifeng as a director, the scripts written by You Hai couldn’t be fully realized.
“The screenwriter is the foundation of a film, the base of the entire structure, while the director is its soul. The relationship between the two may prioritize the screenwriter or the director, depending on their styles and characteristics. But one thing is certain: both are key to determining whether a film will be successful. Therefore, to ensure the success of a film, the two must help each other.”
“Now, let me talk about my approach to scriptwriting!” Xiao Ran smiled slightly, his gaze shifting from the smiling Lin Qingxia to Wei Jiahui and You Hai. He no longer showed any signs of hesitation. Even if Wei Jiahui was the king of screenwriters, he didn’t need to worry too much, as in reality, he was currently more famous than Wei Jiahui.
“Actually, the current system for screenwriters is abnormal. If this continues, Hong Kong cinema will eventually suffer as a result.” As soon as Xiao Ran said this, it caused an uproar in the room, with Wei Jiahui and the others equally shocked. The classroom was filled with chaotic noise. A student wearing glasses stood up and asked, “Screenwriter Xiao, I’m studying screenwriting (I don’t know ifBaptist University of Hong Kong teaches it, but let’s assume it does). Aren’t your words too exaggerated?”
“By no means exaggerated!” Xiao Ran’s expression was now very serious, making it impossible to ignore him. “The script has always been the most crucial element in film production, whether in Hollywood or Europe, where its importance is highly valued. In Hong Kong, however, the script is often put above actors and directors. As long as an actor is somewhat famous, they have the right to modify the script, and directors can change it at will!”
“Tell me, if directors can change the script at will, then what’s the need for us screenwriters? Are directors more professional than screenwriters?” Xiao Ran’s tone was sharp as he questioned the students in the room. As he glanced around, he noticed that many more students had gathered outside the classroom.
“When scripts are dismissed, screenwriters also lack proper status and compensation!” Xiao Ran smiled coldly. His words resonated with most screenwriters. In this era, aside from a few top-tier screenwriters like himself, it was widely recognized that their status was low. “If we can’t produce enough excellent screenwriters, or if those we have leave due to poor treatment, will anyone still want to enter this field?”
“Or do everyone think that even without screenwriters, or without good screenwriters, directors can still pull it off, and film companies will still invest in making movies?” Xiao Ran sneered as he glanced around, asking in a highly sarcastic tone. Everyone showed a disappointed expression, even Wei Jiahui had a look of shock on his face—clearly they had all thought about the consequences of having no good screenwriters!
With a light smile, Xiao Ran’s tone couldn’t hide his deep sarcasm: “In fact, there are very few truly good screenwriters in Hong Kong as well; the vast majority are not competent writers. So, the current status and treatment they enjoy aren’t without reason.”
This bombshell once again caused the students to erupt in confusion and distress. This time, Xiao Ran was determined to address the long-standing problem of Hong Kong films neglecting scripts. Solving this alone would be a huge step forward. Even if it wasn’t fully resolved, planting the seed among these students who wanted to become screenwriters would be invaluable.
“I admit that Hong Kong screenwriters have creativity, but creativity is just a good start—it doesn’t represent everything!” Xiao Ran’s tone grew increasingly strict. By now, he was fully immersed in his lecture: “In a film that demands precision, the logic and coherence of the plot are extremely important.”
“If we need to write a historical drama, we should at least research every detail to understand the background clearly! We should strive to make the audience feel realism, not just nonsense! Of course, if it’s a comedy that’s inherently absurd, then we can go ahead and be as wild as we want.”
“Details—what’s lacking in current scripts are details!” Xiao Ran waved his hand sharply, looking at You Hai below. In Hong Kong, only You Hai could handle details well: “Without enough details, a film is like a skeleton—without flesh or substance, lacking a sense of richness! It can’t be convincing enough.”
Looking at the students and the screenwriters listening quietly below, Xiao Ran smiled and said casually, “I’ve talked a lot off-topic just now. Now, let me share some of my thoughts on scriptwriting.”
The people below were still stunned, overwhelmed by Xiao Ran’s words and lost in thought. Hearing that he was about to share his own writing experience, they quickly shook off their previous thoughts and focused.
Xiao Ran organized his thoughts. He felt he hadn’t explained things clearly enough earlier. But some things really couldn’t be said yet—it wasn’t the right time. However, for what followed, he didn’t need to hold back; he had to clarify his ideas: “I believe the most crucial aspect of scriptwriting lies in four words: surprise and victory! By ‘surprise,’ I mean coming up with innovative ideas or breaking away from clichés in the plot.”
“Second, never try to reuse old tropes. Although some patterns may remain constant, we can still create new twists in the specific plot. Third, audiences never like to be fooled, so we must use strategy in plotting. Fourth, don’t be afraid to spend time researching to enrich the details, because only details can truly keep the audience engaged!”
(Four chapters updated weekly in the public version)