Chapter 00020: Drunken Fist
# Drunken Fist
Chapter 20
Novel: 1979 Golden Age
Chapter 20: Drunken Fist
Wang Yang was already 63 years old.
His eyesight had long since faded, and his temples were streaked with gray.
He sat in his office in the main building of the Beijing Film Studio, wearing his reading glasses as he perused the freshly printed issues of New Film Works and Film Creations.
One was a publication from the Shanghai Film Studio, the other from the Emei Film Studio, both serving as platforms for script submissions, much like Beijing Film Studio's own Film Creations.
The studios had an unspoken understanding, but also a quiet rivalry.
If one studio produced a groundbreaking masterpiece, the other would strive to create something even more revolutionary.
"Not a single one worth watching!" Wang Yang muttered under his breath after a quick scan.
He let out a proud huff, stood up, and with his hands clasped behind his back, he ambled downstairs, heading toward the cafeteria.
Along the way, everyone he passed greeted him respectfully, calling out, "Director Wang!"
The first director of the Beijing Film Studio had been Tian Fang, the father of Tian Zhuangzhuang.
Wang Yang was the second, having held the position for 35 years before retiring in 1986. Under his leadership, the studio had reached its peak.
He was particularly skilled at nurturing talent—four great directors, four renowned cinematographers, and three "golden flowers" of acting had all emerged under his guidance.
Liu Xiaoqing, one of those golden flowers, had originally been from another studio before Wang Yang poached her.
Wang Yang also had innovative ideas about management.
As early as the 1960s, he had recognized the flaws in the large-studio system and wanted to implement a "contract system," essentially a precursor to Hollywood's producer-led studios.
However, the concept was too advanced for the time, and it never came to fruition.
"Director Wang!" "Director Wang!" "Old Wang, what took you so long?"
Wang Yang entered the cafeteria and took his usual seat.
He glanced around and said, "I was scouting out what our sister studios are up to. Alright, let's get started!"
The lights in the room flicked off, plunging the space into darkness.
Then, the screen lit up, and the 24-frames-per-second dream machine cast its glow on the eager, excited faces in the room.
At this time, television dramas were just beginning to emerge, literature was flourishing, poets were sharpening their pens, and popular music was bubbling under the surface.
Film, however, remained the undisputed king of the arts, though it would begin to decline by the late 1980s before slowly reviving in the new century.
Today's screening was a Hong Kong film.
A man with a big nose appeared on screen, looking carefree and mischievous.
His name was Jackie Chan, and the movie was Drunken Fist.
Early last year, Jackie Chan had made a splash with Snake in the Eagle's Shadow, and later that same year, he followed up with Drunken Fist, which raked in 6.76 million at the box office, making it the second-highest-grossing film of the year, just behind Michael Hui's The Contract.
This was a sign that Hong Kong cinema was on the cusp of its golden age.
Though the film was a year old, its quality was undeniable, and it left a profound impact on the audience.
The director was Yuen Woo-ping, and Jackie Chan played Wong Fei-hung, a lazy troublemaker whose father enlists the help of an old friend, Beggar So, to teach him discipline.
Beggar So teaches him the Drunken Eight Immortals style, and in the end, Wong Fei-hung uses it to defeat his enemies...
Beggar So was played by Yuen Siu-tien, Yuen Woo-ping's father.
His portrayal of a beggar with a gourd of wine would later inspire the character Chin Gentsai in The King of Fighters.
"This is amazing!" "The fight scenes are so cool!" "What's this guy's name? Jackie Chan?" "Hahaha, him dressing up as a woman is hilarious!"
The audience felt as though they had entered a new world, free from the constraints of work and the weight of cinematic significance.
For once, they could simply enjoy a film as pure entertainment.
Of course, they kept their laughter and chatter to a low murmur.
Wang Yang was also enjoying himself, but his mind was working overtime.
He turned to the person next to him and asked, "Is Fu Qi still in Beijing?"
"No, he's gone back to Hong Kong."
"Has The Shaolin Temple been finalized?"
"Yes, the Japanese wanted to buy it and gave an advance. Fu Qi found someone to write the script, and they're preparing to shoot it later this year. I heard they're planning to recruit actors from the Henan Peking Opera Troupe."
"Peking Opera Troupe?" Wang Yang shook his head and pointed at the screen.
"Look at their movements—flashy, fluid, and fun. The Peking Opera martial artists have the skills, but their moves are too rigid. Hong Kong's market is developing fast. If they stick to the old ways, I don't see it working out."
"It's tough for them too."
"Yeah, our Hong Kong counterparts aren't having an easy time either. This film was personally requested by Liao Chengzhi. It's not easy, so I hope everything goes smoothly for them."
Wang Yang sighed and added, "Martial arts films are so popular. Shouldn't we consider broadening our genres? We can't keep making only heavy, serious films."
"That... might be risky."
"If we're afraid of risks, how can we get anything done? We need serious films, but we also need entertainment. We should do both. Keep an eye out for scripts, and if anything goes wrong, I'll take responsibility."
While the leaders chatted at the front, a small group in the back was also deep in conversation.
The literature department had gathered around one person, who was providing live commentary on the film, making it both entertaining and educational.
"This Wong Fei-hung, he was a real historical figure. Born in the late Qing dynasty, he started learning martial arts at three and traveled the rivers and lakes with his father at seven. Later, he opened a martial arts school in Guangzhou, practiced medicine, and ran a clinic called Po Chi Lam. He even served as a martial arts instructor for the Guangzhou navy. His father was Wong Kei-ying, whose master was Luk Ah-choy. Luk Ah-choy's master was the great monk Chi Shin. Chi Shin, along with Five Elders Nun, White-Browed Taoist, Fung Do-tak, and Miu Hin, were known as the Five Elders of Shaolin!"
"You're just making this up! Why would a Buddhist temple have a Taoist priest?" Jiang Shan pouted.
"Oh, so you know that Buddhist temples don't have Taoist priests?"
"Do you think I'm stupid? I went to elementary school!"
"Shanshan, behave yourself. Don't be rude!" Jiang Huaiyan scolded, but Jiang Shan paid no mind.
Chen Qi chuckled and explained, "White-Browed started at Shaolin but later joined Wudang, which is Taoist. But this Shaolin isn't the one in Henan—it's the Southern Shaolin, in Fujian."
"That Miu Hin is no ordinary man either. He had a daughter named Miu Tsui-fa, who gave birth to Fong Sai-yuk. And let me tell you, this Fong Sai-yuk was eight feet tall, with a waistline to match. He wielded a silver spear and fought his way through the Qing army's camp seven times..."
"Wasn't that Zhao Zilong?" Ge You exclaimed.
"All heroes are the same! If Zhao Zilong can do it, why can't Fong Sai-yuk? Even Granny Liu is no pushover!"
At first, he was serious, but then he started spinning wild tales.
The crowd loved it, especially Ge You, whose small eyes sparkled with admiration.
He thought this guy was amazing—three years younger than him but so knowledgeable, and with a full head of hair to boot.
...
Watching internal reference films was one of the few times they could truly let loose.
But happy times never last.
When Jackie Chan defeated the villain and the movie ended, everyone was both delighted by the spectacle and saddened by its brevity.
Once they stepped outside, it was back to the usual routine of unity, tension, seriousness, and liveliness.
The audience filed out quietly, breaking off into small groups to discuss the highlights of Drunken Fist.
Under the dim lights, Wang Yang strolled with his hands behind his back, a faint voice carried by the night breeze...
"Why don't we have movies this good?"
"Our genres are different. They're good at making entertainment films, but we excel in military films, rural dramas, and realistic works. Those are great too."
"Then why can't we make entertainment films?"
"Do you think it's that easy? What was the best part of Drunken Fist? The training and fight scenes, right? Why? Because it taps into the audience's psychology. Imagine if one day you met a master who taught you unbeatable martial arts. Wouldn't you be excited?"
"I'd be over the moon!" Ge You slapped his thigh.
"Exactly. The more a film can connect with the audience emotionally, the better it is."
...
Wang Yang followed for a while, glancing at the young man who was chattering away, then wandered off.
Jiang Shan was led home by her father.
Ge You walked with Chen Qi all the way to the guesthouse, reluctant to part ways.
But he was too shy to suggest meeting again.
Fortunately, Chen Qi said, "I spend a lot of time editing scripts, so I have plenty of free time. If you're free, feel free to drop by."
"Ah, great! Let's meet again soon."
Only then did Ge You head back.
(End of Chapter)