Chapter 302: Sights and Stories from the Venice Film Festival
Under the crushing weight of a Command Seal, Cu Chulainn had no choice but to go to the cinema every day to sleep—Ahem, watch movies.
In Shinji's grand plan, it didn't really matter whether Lancer actually watched the films, dozed off halfway through, or sat there scrolling his phone while pretending to appreciate 'art'.
The only hard rule? Don't let the press catch him doing anything… indecent to the female audience during a screening.
As long as he avoided that, what he did in the theater was his own business.
After all, sending Lancer to the cinema wasn't the end goal—it was a tool.
The real aim was to carefully craft the image of Cu Chulainn as a brawny yet cultured young man of the arts.
Shinji wanted to strip away that flashy, commercial image Lancer carried and make him more palatable in the eyes of the festival jury.
Less "big money star," more "serious thespian."
That would give Lancer a much better shot at winning Best Actor.
Because, to those jurors, their awards were for "art," not "profit."
Of course, Venice wasn't exactly Cannes when it came to projecting an aura of high-brow art.
But let's be real—any of the "big three" film festivals will swear they're all about art.
Shinji had been wandering Venice for a few days now, and… he wasn't feeling much "art."
What he did smell was the reek of cold, hard cash lurking just under that thin artistic skin.
For one thing, the amount of money tourists were spending during the festival could make any city drool.
People come to Venice, and naturally, they eat, drink, shop, and… well, answer nature's call.
With the flood of festival-goers, of course the merchants jacked up their prices—it was only "reasonable."
And as for whether the service or quality improved along with those prices?
…Yeah. If you know, you know.
Still, even while grumbling about how Venice was basically operating at "Disneyland-level" prices, Shinji didn't forget his real job.
He was averaging three to four screenings a day.
And after binging so many European films in one go, Shinji's biggest takeaway was that if Japanese films tend to get chuuni at the drop of a hat, and Indian films break into song-and-dance without warning, then European films… absolutely take their clothes off without a second thought.
He'd joked about this before, sure. But this was the first time he'd experienced such an intense, concentrated bombardment of European cinema.
And, yep—turns out past-Shinji was dead. on. the. money.
Different countries have different rating systems, so Shinji couldn't exactly describe the… finer details.
But one thing was certain—North America's notorious R-rating? Compared to these wild European flicks, it's a little brother tagging along.
Close-up shots of… certain parts? Totally normal in Europe. Practically a daily routine.
Shinji also noticed another trend: maybe because European countries are small, their films tend to have a small, intimate scope.
And their so-called "art" usually revolved around—well, you can guess.
During the festival, he was approached more than once by European directors and producers asking if they could license his naked-eye 3D + vibration technology.
Why? Because they wanted to shoot very explicit films.
That instantly reminded Shinji of a film from his past life—Love 3D—which had screened at Cannes in full 3D glory.
Rumor had it that on premiere day, the ticket lines were as insane as China's Spring Festival train stations, and they even had to delay the screening by half an hour because the crowd was too big.
Not that these Europeans were the first to pitch such ideas.
Back in Shanghai, a Hong Kong director had already approached him, wanting to shoot a 3D adaptation of the classic Chinese novel The Golden Lotus.
It wasn't that infamous 3D Sex and Zen, but… the difference in content wasn't exactly huge.
In the end, Shinji could only sigh.
When it comes to "making things spicy," humanity truly has no borders.
We're all the same shameless bunch.
And as the years rolled into the 21st century, the Venice Film Festival's boldness only kept growing—year by year, film by film.
Of course, the ever-reserved Orientals could never match the Europeans in sheer shamelessness.
The "project proposals" these Europeans pitched him were… eye-opening, to say the least.
Same-sex magnets? Check.
Two-way plugs? Check.
German orthopedic clinics? Oh, definitely.
And even starts-with-one-dog scenarios… apparently not a problem.
Basically, as long as you gave them one stick and one hole, they could find a way to make a movie about sticking the stick into the hole.
Their tastes were so heavy-handed that even Shinji—a self-proclaimed veteran of the "flower fields"—had to look away.
And that, dear reader, was exactly why he refused to watch movies with Cloris.
If the two of them watched that kind of thing together in a hotel room, it might be considered… "romantic." But in a public theater? That was just awkward.
Besides, their goals here were completely different.
Cloris was here representing Times Group as a distributor—her standards for judging a film were purely about commercial viability.
Shinji, on the other hand, was more interested in the filmmakers themselves. He was hunting for talent.
After the rather painful experience with The Garden of Sinners, Shinji had realized his behind-the-scenes talent pool was… lacking.
Especially directors. He needed more of them—good ones.
But in this parallel world, the whole movie industry had been reshuffled.
Many of the "familiar faces" he used to know had been politely erased by the counter force.
So, if he wanted to find great directors now, he had only one method—judge them by their work.
Unfortunately, today's "work" had seared his eyes, and not in a good way.
"Seriously, can't these people make a decent adult film for once?"
Walking out of the theater, Shinji was still rubbing his eyes and grumbling.
"Did they really have to end it with such a bloody melodrama? What is this, School Days?"
What he'd just seen was basically a European splatter-gore version of School Days: A promiscuous man, multiple women, messy love and hate, and finally, a knife-wielding girl chopping the scumbag to pieces.
But honestly? The movie was… bad.
The actors weren't much to look at.
The editing was all over the place.
The camerawork was so shaky it could trigger motion sickness.
Even the "adult" content was mind-numbingly dull, it's less spicy than what he and Lissy had gotten up to just last night.
Frankly, even as "background entertainment," it was a stretch—half the audience would probably puke from the camera shake before anything else.
And as for the "blood" finale? That was all it was. Blood. Buckets of it. And nothing more.
But thanks to this cinematic trainwreck, Shinji finally understood why so many people worshipped Quentin Tarantino's so-called "aesthetics of violence."
"So… this movie you watched had no value whatsoever?"
Cloris, arm linked with his, tilted her head curiously.
"None," Shinji said flatly, his expression pure disgust.
"Not high enough for art, not low enough for cheap thrills. Even a random Tokyo Hot release would make more money."
"What are you saying?"
Cloris gave him a playful smack before sighing.
"Ugh, is there really nothing worth distributing at this year's festival?"
"Not nothing. Just… nothing that would make you rich. If you just want to fill the company's library, I can give you a list."
Shinji shrugged, giving his answer.
"Alright," she nodded without hesitation.
"Send me the list tonight, I'll have people approach the crews. Even mosquito legs are still meat—and building a library is always worth it."
"So, what about the awards? Any films you think will win?"
She hadn't forgotten why Shinji was in Italy in the first place.
Shinji pointed to a poster on the street—an image of misty mountains and water, painted as if by a master's hand.
"Still Life, a Chinese film. I think it's got a good shot at the Golden Lion."
Even though Shinji had doubts about Jia Zhangke's personality, he couldn't deny the man's visuals were stunning.
And his confidence in its chances? Simple—because in his original timeline, Still Life was the Golden Lion winner at that year's Venice Film Festival.
Cloris glanced up at the poster and remarked, "Well, the poster's not bad."
Shinji smirked.
"Then let's go there for a trip someday. We can even bring Hinako along as our tour guide—she knows the place well."
Cloris twisted his arm, clearly annoyed at the idea of bringing along a female third wheel.
"Is being a playboy the only ambition you have in life? Careful, or I might just 'deal with you' tonight."
She glared and drew a thumb across her neck in mock threat.
Shinji leaned closer with a grin.
"Lissy, I just think it's wrong for you to hog it all for yourself."
"What did you just say?!"
He countered, all fake sincerity:
"I mean, such beautiful scenery—how can you enjoy it alone? We have to bring Sakura and the others along, right?"
"You—!"
The teasing smirk on his annoyingly handsome face told Cloris everything—this damn animal of a director was doing it on purpose.
"Fine then. Since you're so interested in the scenery, let's go watch the film. At least you'll have that 'exclusive meal' in the cinema."
Joke delivered, Shinji naturally followed up with a little "compensation" to keep her goodwill high.
He didn't plan to max it out and marry her or anything—but keeping her favor came with its perks.
Comfortable perks.
Yes, that kind of comfortable.
"You sure this isn't aiding the enemy?" Cloris shot him a sideways glance.
"It's called knowing yourself and knowing your enemy—then you'll never lose. C'mon, let's go."
And with that, he pulled her into the theater.
◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆
To be fair, Still Life really was a beautiful film.
Not "beautiful" in the sense of plot, but visually—breathtakingly so.
Shot in high definition and projected on a massive screen, every frame was so delicate and vivid that the phrase "scenery like a painting" finally made sense.
Shinji had heard rumors in his previous life that because it wasn't shot on 35mm film, Still Life had been disqualified from the Hong Kong Film Awards.
True or not, it didn't change the fact—the cinematography was stunning.
As for the story… well, that was up to personal taste.
Some thought it was a rare Chinese film showing the lives of the poor.
Others said Director Jia was deliberately smearing the country to win awards, blurring the line between "good men" and "honest men."
Shinji himself didn't have strong feelings about it—asking a director of Jia's generation not to cater to the art-house award circuit was basically impossible.
They'd learned filmmaking for the sake of winning prizes, and it had warped them beyond saving.
His personal impressions of Director Jia boiled down to two things:
His tireless habit of casting his wife as the female lead—rivaling Resident Evil director Paul W.S. Anderson in dedication.
After winning the Golden Lion for Still Life, his film's domestic release was crushed in screenings by Curse of the Golden Flower.
What followed was an incredibly moving crying scene at Peking University and the infamous "Good Man Declaration," where Jia lamented:
"In today's society filled with gold, who still cares about good men?!"
The statement earned him the nickname "Good Man Jia."
So…
"Heh."
That was Shinji's entire review of the man—short, simple, and not even slightly polite.
If possible, Shinji would have loved to take Still Life down with Ultraseven X, just to see what this art-house auteur could brag about without an award in hand.
But that was impossible.
The Venice Film Festival was one of the few in the world that actually awarded both a first and second prize for Best Picture.
Even if Ultraseven X took the Golden Lion, Still Life could still walk away with the Silver Lion—and that was nothing to scoff at.
"This guy didn't… plan it that way, did he?"
Shinji muttered, suspicion creeping into his voice.
By this point, the Venice Film Festival had entered its latter half, and the battle for the awards was heating up fast.
Even someone as content to sit back as Shinji couldn't help but start caring about the results.
Every production team with even the slightest shot at winning was trying every trick in the book to squeeze some intel out of the jury.
But… Venice had been around for decades.
Its procedures were airtight, and the jurors guarded their information like state secrets.
Outsiders had zero chance of prying anything loose.
So Shinji had to switch tactics—subtle promotion to make Ultraseven X stand out more.
Thankfully, compared to the parade of borderline-porn films in the competition, Ultraseven X was practically a fresh breeze.
Not as squeaky-clean as Still Life, sure, but still classy enough to make the others look like gutter trash.
Still, to get an honest first impression from viewers, Shinji kept dropping by Ultraseven X's festival screenings—counting heads, listening to reactions.
Attendance wasn't terrible, but compared to those… ahem… "art films" that skirted just one step away from actual adult movies, Ultraseven X's theater still had empty seats.
From a viewer's perspective, Shinji had a guess why.
Many festival-goers came to Venice for the thrill—that strange rush of legally watching something indecent in a huge theater with hundreds of strangers.
The kind of "group experience" you just can't get anywhere else.
Ultraseven X had a North American PG-13 rating and was already confirmed for a wide release.
There's no sense of urgency to watch Ultraseven X now.
Those spicy "art" films, though? Who knew when—or if—they'd ever be shown again? They could be banned worldwide the moment the festival ended!
So, under the "catch it now or it's gone forever" mentality, the ahem "art appreciators" naturally flocked to the flesh-focused titles first.
Only later would they come around to critique the "ugliness of human nature" in Ultraseven X.
Still, what Ultraseven X lacked in random audience traffic, it made up for in media attention.
Compared to lowbrow shock-value flicks, a high-budget, thematically rich film like Ultraseven X was pure gold for journalists.
And Shinji welcomed every one of them, never placing restrictions on coverage.
Why would he? He had complete confidence in the film.
The beauty of this cyberpunk story was how it took the classic "hero defeats villain" framework… and then twisted it into something deeply thought-provoking.
The plot was deceptively simple, but the setting was fresh.
The story took place in a parallel world—not quite ours, but close enough—bustling megacity.
Every street bristled with surveillance cameras, transmitting the government's will, feeding the populace endless streams of information… and keeping an unblinking eye on them all.
It was a society micromanaged by data, where citizens lived under constant observation.
The world had long been unified in peace.
Life was materially rich, war and chaos were gone, and public safety was absolute—but humanity had lost its warmth.
An ultra-high-tech, materially abundant society paired with hollow, empty hearts—this was the very essence of cyberpunk.
The protagonist, Jin, was a member of the elite anti-alien task force "DEUS," wielding cutting-edge tech to repel otherworldly invaders.
He awoke in a strange room, memories wiped clean, and was handed a pair of crimson glasses by a mysterious woman—who told him he was the savior of this world.
To protect the world, and to reclaim his lost past, Jin took up the fight against the alien threat.
But behind it all lurked the true enemy—an alien race known as Grakyess.
They had used the city's surveillance network to watch—and rule—humanity for years, even creating DEUS to maintain their own control.
During the "AQUA PROJECT," they discovered a portal to another world—the world of Seven—and began their invasion in earnest.
In the end, it was Seven himself who sensed the alien plot—sending his consciousness into the parallel world, merging with Jin, and ultimately using Jin's hands to defeat Grakyess, protecting not just one, but two worlds.
That's where your typical "hero defeats the villain" story would fade to black.
Originally, Ultraseven X was meant to end right there too.
But Shinji… oh no.
Shinji decided to tack on the ending from the novel version—because he wanted the film to hit harder, linger longer in people's minds.
After Grakyess' death, the city's surveillance network went dead.
The rules that had kept society running simply collapsed.
That peaceful world was gone—and in its place rose a chaotic one, torn apart by human greed and endless wars.
The "Demon King" was gone, yes. But without their tyrant ruler, all the hidden monsters crawled out to fight for their own gain—plunging the world into disorder.
A total, gut-punch reversal.
Nobody in the audience saw it coming… but everyone felt how real it was.
After all, stories usually end at the happiest moment.
Nobody ever talks about what comes after the "happily ever after."
The prince and princess get married—but nobody mentions the daily grind of their lives.
The hero slays the Demon King—but no one says how the paranoid king, fearing the hero's strength, eventually has him eliminated.
Ultraseven X broke that comfortable convention.
For the media, for fans of "grimdark" and cruel beauty storytelling—it was practically perfect.
Unsurprisingly, the praise poured in.
[A gripping story, a fresh concept, an ending that shatters traditional expectations and leaves a chilling question hanging in the air—this is a sci-fi tale ahead of its time.]
Cu Chulainn's performance drew as much acclaim as the film itself.
Critics noted how natural his final scene felt—which wasn't surprising. In life, he'd been a celebrated warrior who met a tragic end at the peak of his glory.
If not for the ongoing award deliberations—where too much hype could actually hurt their chances—Shinji would have happily let the press sing Ultraseven X's praises to the heavens.
After all, a good reputation overseas also meant better chances of selling the film abroad.
Not caring about commercial returns didn't mean refusing them.
If someone wanted to pay good money for Ultraseven X, Shinji wasn't about to say no.
Still, until the awards were announced, he wasn't finalizing any deals—only feeling out potential partners.
Because the difference between selling an award-winning film and a non-winner was huge.
From a seller's standpoint, Shinji's Venice trip was going smoothly.
Judging from the feedback so far, even if Ultraseven X didn't win, it would still fetch a solid price.
As a buyer, though? Not so lucky.
He'd helped Cloris pick up a few films at the festival's market, but none looked like future hits.
And his "talent scouting" mission? Equally disappointing.
The filmmakers whose work impressed him were already established names. The newcomers? They were so bad to the point that Shinji would rather train a Servant who knew nothing about directing.
He'd come to Venice thinking, "Alright, even if I can't bag a Spielberg-level legend, I can at least snag a couple of Nolans for my roster."
Reality, however, smashed that dream to bits.
To sum up, his Venice Film Festival trip was… not a disaster, but one long series of brick walls.
Wanted a breakout project? Found nothing.
Wanted to recruit promising rookies? Found a flock of talentless chicks.
Even his simple wish to enjoy a fruit buffet got shot down thanks to Cloris' constant presence.
What he didn't know was that the thing that would really send his blood pressure through the roof at the Venice Film Festival wasn't about the festival at all.
It was something cooked up far away in Japan by the three legendary Round Table idiots.
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