STB Chapter 36: Chinese Point

This is machine translated and all copyrights belong to the author. Please note that the translator might take creative liberties for better readability. Thank you for reading.

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The movie star GETs the right way to approach Jian Hua.

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Back in this familiar environment, Jian Hua sat in a corner, watching the bustling crew members.

No matter how lavish the production, the shooting site was always chaotic, with wires strewn everywhere and a simple box for sitting if you were lucky.

Deputy Director Luo, not in his suit today, held a megaphone, had a phone around his neck, a vest with numerous pockets, and a walkie-talkie at his ear.

“Props team! What are you doing? Move that pillar to the left!”

Satisfied with the scene in the camera, he instructed someone to inform the director that the set was ready.

Jian Hua, looking down at the script to find the corresponding scene, stood up. Sure enough, the next second the walkie-talkie reported the director was still shooting another scene, so they’d film the supporting actors’ scenes here first.

Stunt doubles do more than just dangerous scenes. In background or crowd scenes where the lead actor is absent, filming can proceed with just the stunt doubles, with the lead actor’s close-ups shot separately later.

Like now, with Li Fei speaking lines in front of a green screen on the other side of the studio, and a dispute breaking out among two supporting characters here, Jian Hua needed to jump onto four boxes disguised as stairs and watch silently.

Even being a background prop wasn’t easy.

“You…”

“Hello, Director Liu, I’m Joe, Li Fei’s stunt double,” Jian Hua greeted everyone the same way -– simply and not too warmly, polite but not overly so, only engaging further depending on the situation. Deputy Director Liu was someone to interact with carefully.

There were several deputy directors in the crew, each managing different aspects. Deputy Director Luo was like the on-site coordinator, dealing with all issues and shouldering all burdens like a mother. In contrast, the deputy director in charge of filming was a notch higher in status.

Deputy Director Liu sized up Jian Hua for a few seconds, feeling he looked familiar but not recalling who he was. He asked in dialect, “Why choose someone like this? Is Starlight Entertainment trying something new, having a newbie shadow the movie star, starting from being a stunt double?”

“No, it seems he’s been doing it for several years, looks a bit familiar,” a crew member explained.

As a stunt double, Jian Hua was successful, but this was the treatment he got.

He mostly worked in TV dramas, and it was tough to get into big-screen productions with famous directors without connections. Nowadays, commercial films prefer special effects, reducing the demand for stunts and special effects doubles.

Not one to network or seek attention, Jian Hua’s name went largely unnoticed.

In the industry, it was easy to suppress small figures. With little presence, someone could easily be blocked by lower-level staff, and many wouldn’t even know it happened.

Jian Hua, blacklisted for half a year and then returning as the movie star’s exclusive stunt double, was news that would have exploded in the stunt double circle, yet the crew here was clueless.

“Been doing it for years and still just a stunt double?” Deputy Director Liu glanced at Jian Hua, and found him not overly eager to chat, which was a relief, but also felt him a bit clueless, so he waved him off impatiently, “Alright, just follow the script.”

Deputy Director Liu then turned to instruct the two supporting actors.

This was a scene with strong conflict, placed at the beginning of the shooting schedule to help actors better understand their characters.

Of course, the script Li Fei accepted wasn’t bad, but this film was positioned as a commercial blockbuster aimed at making money, not winning awards, and relied on the box office appeal of big-name actors. The studio was dazzling with stars, featuring three actors with the title of ‘Best Actor’ or ‘Best Actress,’ and even the extras included popular singers.

Good acting doesn’t always align with the director’s vision.

Li Fei was retaken five or six times, with the director constantly explaining the scene and then frowning at the camera. Li Fei calmly watched the director adjust the lighting and camera angles, making minor adjustments to his position. Finally, on the eighth take, he got the point the director wanted, and the rest went smoothly.

After the scene, Assistant Lin handed Li Fei a hot towel.

Li Fei, noticing Jian Hua’s absence, went to watch the filming of another scene.

At that time, Jian Hua had been standing on four wooden boxes, lost in thought for twenty minutes. The two supporting actors in his scene were also struggling, and as a background actor, Jian Hua was tired of climbing up and down, preferring to stay put.

“Pfft.”

Assistant Lin looked up, thinking he heard Li Fei laugh.

But with the noise in the studio and Li Fei’s expression not indicating laughter, Assistant Lin was puzzled.

As a new round of filming began, the clapperboard snapped, and the two supporting actors immediately started their intense argument.

The camera didn’t capture Jian Hua’s face; he stood there, slowly reaching out as if to lean on an imaginary staircase. To Li Fei’s eye, this movement was ordinary, but it somehow made Jian Hua stand out.

—-He was trying to fit into the character from the script, though his ability to do so was limited.

Li Fei felt a subtle shift in his mood.

He had seen many like Jian Hua, but what set Jian Hua apart was his portrayal of Li Fei’s character’s essence in “The Crow”.

Jian Hua wasn’t a hidden acting genius. Outside of his portrayal of General Wu, his performance was just average —- no faults, but not outstanding.

The scene kept stalling, but it wasn’t related to Jian Hua, who was doing well as a background actor.

The two sweaty supporting actors tried again, and Jian Hua finally noticed Li Fei nearby. They were dressed alike, with similar hairstyles, but due to the lighting, Jian Hua couldn’t see Li Fei’s face clearly.

“Switch to Scene 9, Take 3!” the director called out, and the struggling supporting actors stepped aside, freeing Jian Hua from his stationary role.

Returning to the corner to pick up the script, Jian Hua silently observed the busy crowd.

On this first official day of shooting, he saw no one unusual in the crew, from makeup artists to actor assistants. It seemed nearly impossible for a book transmigrator to impersonate someone and infiltrate without being detected.

Jian Hua’s gaze finally returned to Li Fei.

Under the mercury lights, Li Fei’s rolled-up sleeves, the top button of his shirt undone, hands in his casual pants’ pockets, and high-top leather boots on the wooden boxes made him transform into someone else.

A light smile, a casual demeanor, and an unrestrained attitude.

Jian Hua had read the script over a dozen times, picturing the male lead He Ning as a well-off playboy who seemed frivolous but actually possessed obscure knowledge.

However, seeing Li Fei up close made those words vanish like a popped balloon, and the vague shadow of the male lead quickly updated to the person in front of him.

Jian Hua saw things in Li Fei that the script didn’t capture: hypocrisy, arrogance, and a distrustful gaze when observing others.

The male lead in the script was perfect, except for a bad reputation. He was always impressive at crucial moments, with all skills maxed out, and foresaw the betrayals of other characters. Moreover, he was emotionally intelligent, tactfully rejecting the advances of the female supporting character and helping her realize what was best for her.

The male lead was almost unrealistically perfect, but that’s what audiences love, and commercial film scripts are a perfect blend of popular elements.

To Jian Hua, the male lead seemed fake, exaggerated, and hollow.

However, seeing Li Fei brought a solid foundation to this lofty, ethereal character, offering more room for interpretation.

The male lead wasn’t perfect; his seemingly admirable actions were essentially driven by arrogance.

His intelligence and foresight stemmed from suspicion.

And none of this was noticed by other characters because the male lead was careful to maintain his image.

— Satisfying for casual viewers and rewarding for those looking for depth, the character He Ning was both outstanding and realistic, regardless of his hypocrisy, arrogance, or suspicion. He has the perfect solution to every problem, and causes no harm to others.

Jian Hua took a deep breath.

This depth was something you couldn’t feel just by watching the completed movie.

He Ning, a character from a script, came to life vividly through Li Fei.

Unlike General Wu in “The Crow,” where Jian Hua didn’t see the complete script and gradually understood the character through Li Fei’s portrayal, He Ning left a deep impression.

Jian Hua believed he would have been drawn to General Wu from the start if he had seen the script, but not as profoundly.

As for He Ning, he wasn’t Jian Hua’s type at all.

If not for being Li Fei’s stunt double, Jian Hua wouldn’t spare a second glance at such a male lead. He only read the script over a dozen times out of professional duty, trying to do his job well.

Jian Hua’s uncertain barrier and prejudice towards the male lead shattered instantly.

And Li Fei had merely gotten into character before his eyes.

Suddenly, the studio lights flickered.

“Oh?” everyone looked up in surprise.

The director had to call “cut” and wait for the crew to check the lights before asking Li Fei to redo the scene.

This phenomenon was caused by a strong fluctuation of abilities. Li Fei, unaware of what Jian Hua had realized, glanced over with curiosity.

Jian Hua, expressionless, calmed his emotions and watched Li Fei intently as if imprinting every movement and expression into his memory.

That afternoon, as the director personally instructed the two supporting actors, he softly exclaimed upon seeing Jian Hua on the monitor.

“This stunt double Li Fei brought… not bad.”

Standing as a background figure didn’t require acting, but Jian Hua’s stance subtly matched the male lead’s image. Without the need to blur the background deliberately, there was no sense of disconnect for distant shots.

Initially, the director thought it was a coincidence, but a week later, even the deputy directors noticed.

“This capturing of essence is spot on. Did Li Fei specially train this stunt double? It’s so his style.”

“No, I heard they just found him randomly.”

“Tsk, what luck!”

“It looks like we can reduce the reshooting of the lead actor,” the director mused to himself.

Reducing expenses and workload was always welcome.

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The author has something to say：

I thought for a long time about whether or not to include the filming scenes, as this isn’t a standard entertainment industry story, QAQ.

I almost deleted this chapter →_→.

PS: The reality of the entertainment industry in this story is quite different from the actual one. For example, the concept of martial arts stunt doubles –- in foreign countries, people think all Chinese are skilled in kung fu. SO, in this book, many people are competing with Jian Hua for jobs. It’s easy to enter this field with Jian Hua’s skills, but few do it well. However, in reality, it’s definitely not like this; even entering the field is difficult.

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Last Edit: December 20, 2023 at 1:20 PM

This is machine translated and all copyrights belong to the author. Please note that the translator might take creative liberties for better readability. Thank you for reading.