过年好(年度最烂标杆粉墨登场)

LaimingLuo

"Guonianhao", or Happy New Year, is the worst Chinese film I have ever seen in a cinema. Don't get me wrong, it is not the worst film ever made in this country. Every year, more than 80 percent of lousy films fail to reach the cinemas, and among those that do make it, most are kind enough to show some signs to tip off the discerning audience, for example, an inadequate actress who may have been born with a typical disability to control her facial muscles, a complacent director who has lost touch with the times, or simply an awkward title that betrays the filmmakers' vulgar taste.
But "Guonianhao" is different. The title sounds just fine for a movie that was previously scheduled to premiere on the first day of the Year of Monkey. The popular phrase people use to greet each other at this time of year even evokes some warmth of a festive nature from the bottom of our hearts. The cast members look presentable. Skit actor Zhao Benshan, who has appeared on China Central Television's most watched New Year Gala on more than a dozen occasions, is a strong presence related to the festival and therefore should attract those who miss his acrimony. As for Mr. Gao Qunshu, though he may not be my favorite film director, many of my respectful colleagues admire his work telling twisty detective stories on the small screen, and not to mention his weird charisma that seems to have overwhelmed many a seasoned showbiz reporter in my office.
All evidence suggests "Guoniaohao" may possess the potential to dominate the box office during the Chinese New Year, and that's why I was completedly taken by surprise. Imagine yourself taking a joyful ride on the back of a lovely steed on a sunny afternoon in the countryside, and suddenly a nasty spider web lands on your face. Your natural response is to get off the horse and rid your face of the ugly critter and its sticky production, but unfortunately the startled horse just keeps galloping on and on into an unchartered territory. That's what happened in my first 15 minutes of "Guonianhao," yet I persisted, against my better judgment, just so to give the film a fair assessment.
So now, several days after the traumatic experience, I've calmed down and risen above my initial shock and ensuing anger to tell you about the sin that is "Guonianhao." Impatient viewers may find the cinematography insufficient and the editing sloppy, but further analysis reveals a general lack of coordination or preparation in the filming process. When a director has no idea what to shoot, the editor will have problem plowing through the vast amount of raw materials to form a decent storyline. So every now and then you see the story jumping from Point A to C, and while you wonder about Point B, the film teleports you to Point F.
But a scattered narrative with no regard for consistency is the least of the film's many evils. With such meager input of creativity and effort, how do the filmmakers make sure the aggregate of video clips last long enough to count as a movie? Well, they do so by adding bizarre and meaningless episodes. A typical example is a scene where an old man meets a chicken vendor who fancies herself an opera singer. I guess the point is to introduce some humorous flavor while highlighting the lonesome state of the old man, but the attempt landed neither here nor there, all it achieved was making me wonder if I was peeping into the minds of a mental patient.
Such surreal and irrelevant episodes abound in the entire film and are often executed by semi-celebrities from China's micro-blogging website Weibo. In the age where ordinary smart phone users have all turned to WeChat and active users of Weibo mostly consist of professionals who major in publicity stunts, Mr. Gao Qunshu's obsession with the website is admirable. I remember a few years ago when he made "Beijing Blues", another inadequate film with a non-story, he also invited many of his best buddies on Weibo to assume different roles in the story.
So I think we may have found a pattern here. Mr. Gao may be a charming character in the movie industry, one who is so popular that celebrities flock in support of his film project. But the crown of a social butterfly weighs heavily on Mr. Gao's head and is taking its toll on the quality of the actual film. If a director's priority is to find his buddies a place to fill in his film and let everyone have fun in the process, then there must be enough wiggle room in the script, or there shouldn't be a script at all.
If there is a religion that promises me salvation from lousy films such as this, I would much gladly become a willing convert to bask in the glory of responsible and professional filmmaking.