“What’s this?”
Early the next morning, Han Sanping had barely arrived at the set when Chen Fusheng handed him a notebook. The unexpected gesture left him thoroughly confused.
“Didn’t you ask me to revise the male lead’s character? Take a look. Let me know if this works.”
“No, wait. When did you do this?” Han Sanping took the notebook but, instead of reading it right away, asked with curiosity.
“Last night. The alcohol wore off, and I couldn’t get back to sleep. A bit of inspiration struck.” Chen Fusheng told the truth. There was no reason to lie about something like this.
Han Sanping gave Chen Fusheng a thumbs-up, then looked down and began reading the revised script.
“The village’s only scholar?”
Han Sanping genuinely hadn’t expected Chen Fusheng to tack on such a label to Niu Er, a farmer.
He continued reading:
“Although Niu Er is the village’s only scholar, he has always been timid, weak, self-conscious, and even a little selfish at his core because of his status as a farmer. But he also has virtues, chief among them kindness, and an unyielding stubbornness, like an ox that won’t turn back even if eight horses try to drag it!”
“It was precisely this stubbornness that got Niu Er into the middle school in town. When he returned to the village, the villagers loved to tease him, calling him a bookworm who’d read his brain silly. But Niu Er never bothered arguing with them, because he’d grown up accustomed to being the butt of everyone’s jokes. Besides, compared to his classmates in town, he could tell the villagers meant no harm.”
“After the war of resistance broke out, classes were suspended. Niu Er couldn’t find work in town and was forced back to rural life.”
From there, the plot overlapped with the first version. Niu Er secretly fell for Jiu’er, a sharp-tongued widow in the village. Then one day, before the Eighth Route Army moved out, they entrusted the villagers of Stone Village with a dairy cow that produced milk to nourish the wounded, leaving behind the pledge: “As long as we live, the cow stays.” Most villagers didn’t want the thankless task. In the end, the village elders held a meeting and decided to entrust this honorable duty to Niu Er…
Anyone who’s read the original knows that Huang Bo’s Niu Er had a quirky, comedic personality. That injected an absurd element into the film’s otherwise heavy, serious tone, making it easier for the audience to digest. You could say it was one of the film’s biggest selling points.
But with Chen Fusheng’s changes, the character was completely transformed. That meant he could no longer draw on Huang Bo’s performance style when playing Niu Er. Did this mean the film would lose one of its major selling points?
Actually, no.
First, even if Chen Fusheng hadn’t changed the personality, he couldn’t have replicated Huang Bo’s unique brand of comedy during performance. More likely, the result would be a pale imitation that fell flat.
Second, while Chen Fusheng had altered the character design and personality, he hadn’t changed the core element.
That core element was the comedy.
The difference lay in the fact that Huang Bo had a natural gift for comedy that was uniquely his own. Chen Fusheng was admittedly weaker in that department, since he wasn’t a professional comedian. But he prided himself on being able to achieve the same effect through his acting skill and experience.
“It works. Even though you made significant changes to Niu Er’s characterization, you didn’t disrupt the plot or leave any holes. I don’t see any problems.”
After finishing the revised script, Han Sanping offered his assessment, then raised a question that had been nagging him while he read:
“Though I do have one question.”
“Go ahead.”
Chen Fusheng wasn’t surprised that Han Sanping had questions.
“During yesterday afternoon’s audition, I saw that quirky, absurd comedy style you did. I think it’s a real highlight for the film. But now that you’ve changed the character, your current persona won’t allow for that kind of performance anymore. Does that mean we’ve lost some of the comedy?”
“Not at all.”
Chen Fusheng shook his head firmly.
He was pleased that Han Sanping had hit the nail on the head with his question. It spoke well of the director’s instincts.
Without keeping anyone in suspense, he laid out his thinking.
“That over-the-top performance style from yesterday actually doesn’t suit me that well. What I’m better at is deadpan comedy!”
Han Sanping was hearing the term for the first time. A string of question marks seemed to flash across his eyes.
“In plain language: playing it completely straight while being funny!” Chen Fusheng elaborated.
But Han Sanping still looked lost, so Chen Fusheng thought for a moment, took the script back from him, flipped to a scene where the lead needed to deliver comedy, gathered himself briefly, and performed a segment on the spot.
As Chen Fusheng prepared, he mentally referenced Zhang Yi’s performance style in Cock and Bull. No mugging, no deliberate pandering for laughs, but the sharp contrast between a dead-serious delivery and a comedic core produced a black-humor effect that was just as funny.
After watching Chen Fusheng’s performance firsthand, Han Sanping nodded repeatedly in approval and exclaimed, “So that’s deadpan comedy!”
With that, he had no further objections to the revised script. But he was now curious how a mere film enthusiast like Chen Fusheng knew so much.
“Brother Fusheng, tell me honestly, have you studied acting? Or do you have relatives in the industry?”
“No actors in my family. But does self-study count?” Chen Fusheng countered.
“Then how did you learn about deadpan comedy?” Han Sanping pressed. “I’d never even heard of it before.”
“As far as I know, Old Han, you didn’t graduate from an arts school either, did you?”
“Hahaha, I guess I’ve got more learning to do.”
Caught off guard by his own retort, Han Sanping laughed awkwardly and let the topic of deadpan comedy drop. Instead, he pivoted to an invitation:
“Since you love acting so much, Fusheng, why not skip going back to teaching and join our Emei Film Studio instead?”
“What’s with the sudden recruitment pitch, Old Han?” Chen Fusheng asked. The reason was that on his first day at Emei Film Studio, the studio leadership had thrown him a welcome banquet, and one of the leaders had tried to recruit him then. Of course, he’d turned it down. He hadn’t expected Han Sanping to bring it up again.
“I genuinely think it would be a waste for talent like yours not to develop within the film industry,” Han Sanping said sincerely.
“Let’s talk about that later. Right now, our priority is getting this film done,” Chen Fusheng replied.
The fact that he didn’t flatly refuse said a lot.
Han Sanping wanted to press further, but just then the director’s assistant walked in and said: “Director Han, we’ve found the dairy cow you asked for.”
Both Han Sanping and Chen Fusheng’s eyes lit up.
“Let’s go take a look together.”
“Sure!”
