When Liu Yuan joined the cast, the overall filming wasn't particularly smooth. Firstly, he wasn't a formally trained actor and had virtually no basic acting experience, let alone any advanced skills. Secondly, he hadn't experienced school bullying and didn't know how to portray that feeling.
It was only when he acted out his fear and pain during scenes of being beaten that it became incredibly realistic.
The director was even considering replacing him.
Fortunately, Director Zhang's reputation as a major director wasn't unfounded. Besides being highly capable in directing, he was also quite good at teaching actors.
After days of his devilish, roaring instruction, Liu Yuan's acting skills improved by leaps and bounds. Before long, he was barely passable, able to shoot scenes that satisfied Director Zhang.
Sometimes, the reason some great directors become great directors, besides their filming capabilities and grasp of the plot, is that their extreme demands on actors are also a crucial factor in their success.
Most people aren't truly dense. Even those completely clueless about acting, after hundreds or thousands of repetitions and takes, can grasp some essence.
They can produce relatively competent film and television segments.
Not to mention, most great directors select roles not primarily for acting skills, but for their fit with the character. Why is it that some renowned veteran actors, when separated from a certain director or a specific role, suddenly become so unwatchable?
It's not due to exceptional talent, but rather the director's skill in uncovering their connection with the character. It's natural for someone to act vibrantly and flexibly when they are playing themselves.
If a director can't control an actor, or if an actor doesn't care about the director, then it would be a miracle if a good film could be made.
Nowadays, there are only two paths to making a good film. One is to be a major director, capable and not arrogant, able to command respect so no actor dares to disobey. Then, meticulously refine the work for years.
This would likely result in a good film, or at least a competent and satisfactory one.
The other path is for a capable, lesser-known director to find equally capable but unknown actors, who are willing to endure hardship and strive for their dreams. This also has a certain probability of producing a decent film. Profitability aside, at least the reputation wouldn't be too bad.
Of course, the prerequisite is not to be pretentious, not to pursue art for art's sake, and not to arbitrarily add one's own ideas. One should honestly tell a good story.
Detaching from the masses and being too esoteric is useless, no matter how artistic. At best, you might win awards and feel smug. Don't expect popular recognition.
Only realistic themes offer some hope.
These can combine story, moral lessons, and artistry.
When done well, they can become classics. When done poorly, they become a hodgepodge of rubbish. If made too profound, they might win awards but might not be released. If too superficial, it's also uncertain. It's difficult to navigate.
These are all things Ding Yun summarized after her son joined the crew, having briefly investigated the general situation of the entertainment and film industry in recent years.
Concurrently, based on her understanding, she carefully analyzed Director Zhang's film, believing its prospects were good. As long as that popular idol star in it didn't cause any trouble, it should be fine.
Once released, it would undoubtedly be a hit in both critical acclaim and box office.
To ensure her son performed well in this film, ideally making a splash, Ding Yun made a point of staying up every night. She used her mental energy to enter her son Liu Yuan's sea of consciousness, construct the script, and "beat" his soul.
She used her mental energy to simulate over a dozen classmates who bullied him in the script, then guided him through the plot repeatedly.
He slept for seven hours a night, which was just enough for Ding Yun to guide him through the script three times using her mental energy, leaving some time for him to catch up on sleep so he wouldn't be too tired and affect his spirit the next day.
So, what Director Zhang believed to be Liu Yuan's good learning ability, and what Liu Yuan believed to be Director Zhang's effective teaching, was actually aided by an unknown Ding Yun.
This allowed them to have a good impression of each other.
However, this was not something she could easily reveal. Furthermore, since she was helping her own son, remaining anonymous was of no consequence. Therefore, she could only be the unsung hero behind the scenes.
To give her son a cheat code, absolutely incredible.
Others have golden-finger grandfathers. She, on the other hand, could be considered a mother with a golden thigh.
Once Liu Yuan was fully on track, Ding Yun stopped staying up late to help. After all, after days of arduous assistance, he had completely grasped the character. It was hard to say about other roles, but for this particular role, he had absolutely no problem.
Naturally, Ding Yun no longer needed to worry.
And, taking advantage of her free time, she began to ponder her current situation and her golden finger. What should she do to create a significant impact and complete her mission?
She couldn't possibly spend decades accumulating tens of millions of tons of gold and then distribute it to everyone, could she? That operation carried too much risk and was also very troublesome.
Selling it for money and distributing it as red envelopes, following the old practice, would also be quite bothersome.
Considering the current world population, selling gold worth hundreds of billions would be difficult to do discreetly. Such a large gold transaction would make it impossible to remain low-key.
Selling it in installments would take an unknown amount of time.
In the end, Ding Yun was less inclined to rely on her transmute-stone-to-gold golden finger to expand her influence. In this era, this golden finger was only convenient for her to use secretly. Large-scale use carried significant risks, as gold had long since exited the currency mainstream. Gold was no longer pegged to currency; instead, resources like oil and natural gas were.
Therefore, it was essentially no longer currency but a precious metal, a commodity.
It was also a commodity whose trade was controlled. Small-scale transactions were either unmonitored or lightly monitored, but large-scale transactions would definitely attract attention and be extremely troublesome.
But if she couldn't rely on this transmute-stone-to-gold golden finger to expand her influence, then what should she rely on?
At her age, pursuing research wasn't suitable.
Becoming an actor was even more out of the question.
Although it's said that every profession can produce a master, theoretically, excelling in any field can bring great fame. But this is only theoretical. No matter how skilled a carpenter is, their impact and historical record wouldn't compare to that of an emperor becoming a carpenter.
Therefore, this matter was quite difficult to handle.
Ding Yun had only a few ideas, such as, since everyone knew she was skilled in medicine, should she become a master of Traditional Chinese Medicine and cure a few incurable diseases?
This might bring considerable influence.
Another idea was to diligently cultivate her son and become a "national mother-in-law," which was also a direction for development.
Or perhaps delve into metaphysics and the occult.
These were also good choices.