Chapter Forty-Seven: Completely Indifferent

From Capital to Entertainment The moon sets, melting gold. 2607 words 2026-03-20 10:44:44

“An invitation?” Gu Zhi’s heart skipped a beat, and his gaze moved downward.

[The 37th Crescent Film Golden Horse Awards Ceremony] is scheduled to be held from December 1st to 2nd, 2000, at the Zhongshan Memorial Hall in Tai Bei Sun. Our association sincerely invites the “Butterfly Effect” film crew to attend the Golden Horse Awards ceremony and participate in various activities.

Main events include: …

Executive Committee of the Tai Bei Golden Horse Film Festival—cordially invited.

“The Crescent Golden Horse Awards?” Gu Zhi exclaimed in surprise.

How could the Golden Horse Awards invite the crew of “Butterfly Effect”?

“Before the film was released, China Film specially applied for the Golden Horse Awards. The timing was just right. The nominations were already announced on October 1st, but the invitation only arrived today.”

“I see…”

As the producer of the film, China Film is not only responsible for making the movie, but also for applying for various film awards—it’s part of their job. This time, the schedule was tight, so they didn’t notify Gu Zhi and his team before submitting.

The Golden Horse Awards only require that the film be in Chinese, so every year the number of submissions is immense. The judges must review all the films and vote for the nominations, which are announced every year on October 1st.

The Crescent Golden Horse, Hong Kong Golden Statue, and Mainland Golden Rooster Awards are considered the three major awards for Chinese-language films.

The Golden Horse Awards have the longest history and the most relaxed criteria, open to all Chinese-language films.

At present, the Golden Horse Awards still carry considerable prestige. However, a decade or so later, it gradually became an insular award, favoring local Crescent films more and more, and its authority diminished.

The Hong Kong Golden Statue Awards have the strictest entry requirements. It was designed to protect Hong Kong films.

First, the film must be publicly screened in Hong Kong for its initial release—that’s the basic condition.

Then, the director must be a Hong Kong resident holding a Hong Kong ID; the production company must have a registered Hong Kong office; and at least six key crew members must be Hong Kong residents. At least two of these three conditions must be met for a film to qualify as a “Hong Kong film” and be eligible for the Golden Statue Awards.

The Golden Statue Awards, without question, lack much impartiality. The chairman of its board, Chen Jia-shang, once said:

“If Hong Kong films are increasingly disregarded, and the award itself loses attention, then so be it. The Golden Statue Awards exist for Hong Kong films. Without them, the award is meaningless. If Hong Kong cinema is on the decline, the Golden Statue Awards simply reflect that reality and continue to support Hong Kong films.”

In essence, the Golden Statue Awards are a self-indulgent product for Hong Kong, whether declining or criticized; films from other regions are best left out.

As for the Mainland’s Golden Rooster Awards, since it alternates with the Hundred Flowers Awards every other year, it’s sometimes called the Golden Rooster and Hundred Flowers Awards.

Ever since that year when the Hundred Flowers Awards were given to Li Yifeng and Yang Tianbao, everyone in the country realized what kind of award this really was.

Authority? Credibility?

None exist.

There’s only one word to describe the Golden Rooster and Hundred Flowers Awards: laughable.

In Gu Zhi’s current era, the Golden Rooster and Hundred Flowers Awards still have some authority, but “Butterfly Effect” was finished rather late. The award can only be applied for between March and May each year, so China Film will have to wait until next year.

Forget about the Golden Statue Awards, and the major international awards have already wrapped up. At that time, only the Golden Horse Awards remained. China Film applied with a try-it-and-see attitude, unexpectedly landing a nomination.

“Best Original Screenplay nomination. ‘Butterfly Effect’ is the only Mainland film in this category,” Han Sanping explained to Gu Zhi.

The nominees for Best Original Screenplay this time are “Little Boy Cheung,” “Driverless,” “In the Mood for Love,” plus “Butterfly Effect”—three Hong Kong films and one Mainland film; none from Crescent itself.

“This is your first time as a screenwriter, and you’ve already received a nomination for such a heavyweight award. There’s only one word for it: impressive.”

Han Sanping gave Gu Zhi a thumbs-up as he spoke.

Gu Zhi smiled awkwardly, but in truth felt nothing at all.

Golden Horse, Golden Statue, even the Palme d’Or were never his goals, much less Best Screenplay—a marginal category that never truly interested him.

Besides, he never liked Crescent, and now he cared even less about the award.

However, Han Sanping asked proactively, “So, when do you plan to go to Tai Bei?”

The Golden Horse Awards meant nothing to Gu Zhi, but to the older generation of filmmakers, it was still a significant honor. Many Mainland actors and directors take great pride in winning the Golden Horse.

Whenever Mainland filmmakers win Golden Horse or Golden Statue Awards, the media never fails to publicize it widely, which shows the real influence these awards have in the Chinese-speaking world.

The two of them had completely different views on the Golden Horse Awards. Gu Zhi thought for a moment and decided to state his intentions plainly.

“Third Uncle, I don’t plan to go to Tai Bei for the Golden Horse Awards.”

Han Sanping was stunned for a moment, but quickly recovered and signaled Gu Zhi to go on.

“The project ‘My Sassy Girl’ has already started. I want to release it on Valentine’s Day next year, so time is tight. A trip to Crescent would delay production by at least a week, which would definitely slow down the film.”

“Besides, this nomination for Best Original Screenplay—every competitor is from Hong Kong, including ‘In the Mood for Love,’ which has swept awards overseas. ‘Butterfly Effect’ stands no chance. It’s a commercial film, never favored by award juries. Going would be pointless, just to serve as a foil for others.”

“Don’t you want to broaden your horizons? As one of the three major Chinese film awards, many famous directors and stars from Hong Kong, Crescent, and Mainland attend. It’d be good for you to make more industry connections,” Han Sanping advised.

Gu Zhi shrugged indifferently.

“No need for me to make connections; they’ll come to me eventually. I’d rather focus my energy on this film and not waste time.”

“…”

With things laid out so clearly, Han Sanping couldn’t push further.

“You brat, I never realized you were so arrogant.”

“Heh, well, with you backing me, Third Uncle, where else would I get the confidence?”

“All right, all right. If you don’t want to go, then so be it. But we still need to send some crew members, or else it’ll look disrespectful.”

“Third Uncle, please don’t send Liu Qi. She’s handling production and can’t afford to be delayed.”

Gu Zhi was fully invested in the film and didn’t want anything to go wrong.

Han Sanping admired Gu Zhi’s seriousness, though it gave him a bit of a headache. He shook his head.

“Fine, no problem. It’s all up to you. I’ll leave Xiao Qi for you.”

“Thank you, Third Uncle! If there’s nothing else, I’ll head out.”

Just as Gu Zhi was about to leave and reached the doorway, Han Sanping suddenly called after him.

“I almost forgot—found a director for you. Bring Xiao Qi in and see if he’s suitable.”

Han Sanping took out a black-and-white printed resume from his desk. The photo was so blurry you could barely make out the face.