mijobooks Chapter 56 The Massacre in Two Movies
Chapter 56 The Massacre in Two Movies
Needless to say, "Lost in Thailand" was a dark horse during the Chinese New Year season that year, though its box office performance was a real pity.
Director Qin is a veteran director, and he built upon the work of his predecessors, making his handling of some later plot points better than the original, at least in Luo Jinnian's opinion.
Uncle Qin even gave him a special call: "Everything is fine, I have a lot of faith in your script."
"I also believe in your filming skills."
On the day of the release, film critic Du Zitao bought his ticket early and went to the cinema. He chose the 9:50 a.m. showing; there weren't many people, and the theater was only about half full. Du Zitao liked this; he could concentrate. He took off his pen cap and wrote in his notebook by the dim light of the screen.
The movie opens with a train station during the Spring Festival travel rush.
A sea of heads, bags and suitcases, and announcements of train delays playing over and over again over the loudspeaker. An actor with a plain complexion, playing the role of Niu Geng, carrying a burlap sack, squeezed through the crowd, a crumpled train ticket dangling from his mouth. Du Zitao quickly scribbled in his notebook:
The director focuses on the annual Spring Festival travel rush, where people from all over the country flock home, making tickets extremely difficult to obtain. This not only resonates with audiences but also provides fertile ground for various embarrassing and awkward situations.
While he was writing, Xu Zheng's character, Li Chenggong, was already arguing with Niu Geng in the waiting room. Two people from vastly different backgrounds were entangled over a train ticket. Du Zitao's lips twitched, but his pen didn't stop:
The chemistry between the two leads is seamless; the dignity of an elite is gradually shattered by the stubbornness of a commoner, and the comedic pacing is precise to the frame.
He didn't know where the director found this simple-minded guy, who wasn't particularly impressive, but his acting was so good—simple and natural.
Immediately following, the film enters a series of hilarious moments, starting with the iconic scene on the airplane—
It was Niu Geng's first time on a plane. The flight attendant asked him what he would like to drink, and he replied in his local dialect, "Give me a bottle of milk." The flight attendant smiled and said, "Sir, we only have coffee, tea, and juice."
Niu Geng stiffened his neck: "Then milk will do too." Li Chenggong next to him rolled his eyes to the back of his head. When the flight attendant actually brought over a small carton of milk, Niu Geng gulped it down in one go, and then the plane encountered severe turbulence.
Niu Geng covered his mouth, looking pained. Li Chenggong, who was sitting next to him, asked in alarm, "Are you alright?" Niu Geng then vomited—not on the ground, but precisely into the pocket of Li Chenggong's expensive coat.
Du Zitao heard a middle-aged man in the back row laugh out loud, and he couldn't help but write four more words in his notebook: "The rhythm is amazing."
The theater was filled with laughter. Du Zitao noticed a girl wearing glasses in the row in front of him laughing so hard she was slapping the armrest of her seat, while her boyfriend next to her was clutching his stomach and bending over.
This kind of reaction doesn't lie; whether a comedy is good or not, the audience's laughter is the most honest indicator.
The scene on the train brought the humor to a climax. Li Chenggong's sleeper berth was taken by Niu Geng's coworkers, and he had to squeeze into the hard-seat carriage, surrounded by the smells of chicken coops, snakeskin bags, instant noodles, and foot odor.
Niu Geng said, "Boss Li, you sleep on the top bunk and I'll sleep on the middle bunk." As a result, in the middle of the night, Li Chenggong had a smelly foot placed on his face. When he opened his eyes, he found Niu Geng sleeping like a dead pig, half of his body sliding down from above.
The bus broke down in the wilderness, and the two were forced to stay in a run-down hotel.
Li Chenggong finally managed to get a room, but Niu Geng thought he was sharing a room with him and followed him in with his luggage.
Li Chenggong gritted his teeth and said, "I'll sleep on the bed, you sleep on the floor." Niu Geng lay down on the floor without saying a word and started snoring.
Li Chenggong tossed and turned, unable to sleep. He got up to get a drink of water and discovered that Niu Geng had filled the kettle with milk. He exclaimed to the camera in despair, "Does this guy have a grudge against milk?"
Du Zitao had a premonition that this line would become a popular internet meme.
Du Zitao glanced at the screening room, which was less than half full, yet the laughter was just as loud as a full house. Some people were stomping their feet with laughter, while others were pulling out tissues to wipe away tears—they were genuinely laughing until they cried.
In the latter half of the film, the female con artist's storyline emerges. Du Zitao noticed that director Qin didn't portray this character as a simple swindler. She cheats people out of money, but when Li Chenggong is at his most vulnerable, she gives him the last of her money. The actress's performance is restrained; her eyes redden but she doesn't shed tears. Du Zitao wrote in his notebook:
This is the biggest surprise of the film. Beneath the comedic exterior, the director attempts to place a core of compassion. The female con artist is not merely a plot device; she gives weight to Li Chenggong's transformation, rather than providing cheap moralizing.
After the movie ended, Du Zitao sat in a coffee shop near the cinema for half an hour, organizing his notes into a complete film review. He thought about the title for a long time before finally settling on: "The Journey of Laughter Isn't Over Yet, There Are Tears Amidst the Laughter." At the end of the article, he wrote: "Director Qin's 'Lost in..." is an ambitious elevation—he retains the density of humor, but infuses the gaps with the warmth and coldness of human relationships. This is a sign of a director's maturity.
The article garnered over 100,000 views the very night it was published. The comments section erupted into a chaotic mess, with some accusing Du Zitao of taking money to promote the article, while others praised his assessment as fair and objective. Du Zitao ignored them and bought a ticket to read it a second time the next day.
Meanwhile, the box office data for the first day was collected from various cinema chains.
That afternoon, Qin Xiangyang was in the server room overseeing a detailed shot in post-production when his phone vibrated. It was a screenshot sent by Sister Fang. He opened it and saw the number: 1000 million.
He stared at the number for a few seconds, then breathed a sigh of relief.
The relief was genuine. Ten million on the opening day—for a medium-sized comedy with a tightly controlled budget, that's not a blockbuster, but it's definitely a sure thing. More importantly, it means the first wave of word-of-mouth is translating into actual ticket sales. A call followed immediately, the voice laced with laughter: "Director Qin, shouldn't you treat us to dinner tonight?"
Director Qin smiled and said, "Please, everyone."
After hanging up the phone, he leaned back in his chair and rubbed his temples.
Outside the window, winter in Shandong Province is darkening.
The journey of "Lost in Thailand" has only just begun.
On the other hand, "Ice Love Song" also performed well. Thanks to its viral marketing on Weibo, Director Mo's film can be said to have become a hit even before its release.
Various videos and photos of the two young actors are circulating all over the internet, just like when Luo Jinnian went to the hospital to see the middle-aged woman and was recognized by the nurse.
"Sigh, my marketing skills, which I'm so proud of, are no match for Brother Qin's solid strength. My box office on the first day was only eight million."
"That's already amazing. Mine was just a normal performance for a commercial film, but Director Qin, you've pioneered a new path for domestic art-house commercial films."
Director Mo was so flattered that he was completely bewildered.
That's what he thought too, and the horror of his film doesn't lie there; it's the two young lead actors who really became incredibly famous.
When I saw Gu Yanxi again, she was wearing a mask in a rather sleazy manner.