New Century New Movie Interpretation of "Run Lola Run"

Author: Su Mu
Publisher:
Publishing Time: Not available
Features: Preface Another world exists in China, in a university named the Beijing Film Academy. The Beijing Film Academy is China's only comprehensive film university. It was founded in 1950. During the Cultural Revolution, the film academy was temporarily closed. It is said that this was due to the interference of the "Gang of Four," although others argue otherwise. In 1978, the film academy resumed admissions. The world's most famous film magazine—the French Cahiers du Cinéma—considered the resumption of admissions at the Beijing Film Academy as a significant event in the history of world cinema over the past century. Although the Beijing Film Academy is not as renowned as China's Peking University or Tsinghua University either domestically or internationally, it is still a school worth being proud of. First, the film academy's research subject is film. Today is the era of audiovisual culture. According to cultural anthropology, those born in the West after the 1960s and in China after the 1970s are part of the "audiovisual generation." Urban surveys in China show that going to movie theaters and owning hundreds or even thousands of film VCDs and DVDs are important lifestyle choices for urban middle-class families. Second, the film academy has nurtured the backbone of China's film creation personnel. Countless outstanding Chinese filmmakers have emerged from here, including world-renowned directors like Chen Kaige, Zhang Yimou, and Jia Zhangke. No film university in the world has produced as many world-class film directors as the Beijing Film Academy. The Beijing Film Academy has many departments and majors, and students in different fields study different courses. However, there is one course that all students take together, called Film Analysis. Film Analysis is a course like a potluck, with instructors from various departments of the film academy interpreting films from different perspectives. Some of them are prominent figures at the film academy, such as Professor Xie Fei, Professor Zheng Dongtian, Professor Zhang Huijun, and Professor Xie Xiaojing. At the Beijing Film Academy, if you ask students which is their favorite course, they will tell you without hesitation: Film Analysis. Film Analysis is a unique feature of the Beijing Film Academy. A teacher at the film academy once described Film Analysis with great enthusiasm: Film Analysis is like a stage where instructors from the film academy take turns performing. I believe Film Analysis is more like a boxing ring, where countless instructors stand boldly on stage, full of vitality, recommending their favorite films and directors, and sharing their understanding and love for cinema. I am a teacher at the Beijing Film Academy, and I am also an instructor of Film Analysis. Even today, I am still proud and grateful to be a teacher. "To be honest, it's not just because of a teacher's sense of duty. Just as some people become obsessed with certain things, even to the point of addiction, I am truly captivated by the earnest gazes of my students below the podium. Those are youthful, beautiful faces, and they are the burning souls of individuals." (Preface to "Honor," by Su Mu, published by China Film Press in 2000) At the same time, I am content and happy to have encountered film in this life and become a filmmaker. Because I am truly obsessed with the world on the screen—a world that sometimes seems close and sometimes distant, sparkling with dazzling light. In a large, crowded room, the lights dim. People become quiet, the room becomes quiet, and the world becomes quiet. You can almost hear your own breathing and heartbeat. A beam of colorful light bursts forth, striking a huge, white wall in the front of the room. And so, on that wall, plants move, mountains move, streets move, and people move. Jean Epstein, the Russian filmmaker, once wrote in his famous essay "Hello, Cinema" about his experience watching films: "Your pain is within reach of your hand. If I stretch my arms, I would touch you, and I would feel sad and uneasy. I count every one of your painful eyelashes, and I can even taste the flavor of your tears. No one's face has ever been so close to mine as yours." I once told my students that I am a pessimist when it comes to life. Or perhaps, I doubt the process and meaning of life. But sometimes, when watching films, I feel as if a hand gently passes through my clothes, my skin, my chest. It enters my body. It touches my heart lightly. Suddenly, my heart aches, and tears fall. In that moment, I feel moved. In that moment, I feel warmth. In that moment, I feel happiness. In that moment, I realize that life is worth living and meaningful. This is what is called "near." I remember once, while teaching at the film academy, we analyzed the film "Birdman" by Alan Parker: At dusk, on a vast coastline, the sea and the sky are a single, endless blue. The protagonist, "Birdman," and his friend El arrive at the beach. "Birdman," in that boundless blue of sea and sky, stretches his arms, as if ready to fly. Later, "Birdman" actually made a pair of wings for himself. He leaps from a high mountain. "Fly." In our world of shattered personalities, inflated selfishness, and rampant materialism, a child, spreading his wings (arms), wants to—fly. I was moved. I told my classmates about one of my own "experiences": Several years ago, I took a film crew from Chongqing along the Yangtze River downstream by boat. "Farewell, White Emperor, amidst colorful clouds; a thousand miles of Jiangling can be returned in a single day. The cries of apes on both banks will not stop; a light boat passes through ten thousand mountains." As evening approached, the boat neared Yichang. With most tourist attractions passed, the once bustling rear deck of the boat was empty. I stood alone on the empty deck. I looked at the receding Yangtze River and the setting sun. The Yangtze River was vast, and the sunset was fiery red. The sunset dipped lower and lower. The sunset dipped lower and lower. In that instant, the sunset fell into the Yangtze River, and the Yangtze River swallowed the sunset. The fiery red sunset and the Yangtze River merged into one. The Yangtze River turned red, and the Yangtze River burned. In the blazing Yangtze River, a small boat drifted by. On the boat, an ancient figure stood proudly. His long hair flowed, and his white robes fluttered. In such an evening, in such a scene, in such a moment in my life, I transcended time and space, crossed the human world and the underworld, and walked through a thousand years. I was overjoyed. After I finished, my classmates stared at me blankly. Their gazes were somewhat vacant, as if they had lost focus. Some classmates smiled at me kindly and benevolently. Their gazes were more like comforting a young child than looking at their teacher. This is what is called "far." The creators are all worthy of our pride—our predecessors and peers. These films are either striking and brilliant or meticulously crafted and refined. Of course, the ultimate goal of "The Film Classroom" is not a specific film, but the "film" composed of countless films—the "other world" beyond our living world. The bell rang, and I walked to the podium. I was a little excited because I saw you. Your gazes were warm. Su Mu Early Spring 2004 This series of books offers interpretations of outstanding works in the history of world cinema. Through detailed introductions to the historical context, creators, and origins of the films, as well as detailed analyses of their nuances, it integrates rich knowledge of film production and radiates into philosophy, history, society, and other artistic fields. The book is filled with numerous color illustrations, making the reading experience vivid and engaging.