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On the morning of June 22, the 26th 赌博app MasterClass welcomed Jury President of Golden Goblet Awards Tran Anh Hung, the esteemed French director to share his profound understanding of cinematic language and his personal methods for honing sensitivity and insight in filmmaking.
In 1992, Tran Anh Hung debuted his first feature film, THE SCENT OF GREEN PAPAYA, which premiered at the Cannes Film Festival, winning both the Golden Camera and the Youth Award. His second feature, CYCLO, starring Tony Leung, garnered the Golden Lion for Best Film at the Venice Film Festival. In 2010, he directed the Japanese-language adaptation of Haruki Murakami’s novel NORWEGIAN WOOD, which premiered in competition at Venice. Most recently, in 2023, his film THE TASTE OF THINGS was nominated for the main competition at Cannes, earning him the Best Director.
Unique Method for Honing Cinematic Language
“If you want to create something interesting, you must master the language of film,” Tran Anh Hung began. He emphasized that film is both an art form and a language. A compelling work must invent unique cinematic expressions to convey its emotions and meanings. “Only by achieving this can you truly master the unique language of cinema.”
Tran’s journey as a filmmaker began in 1988 with the short film THE MARRIED WOMAN OF NAM XUONG. Over his thirty-year career, he discovered that a significant challenge for directors is that film “is an art difficult to ‘practice continuously’”. Fortunately, his father instilled in him two crucial qualities: honesty with oneself and patience. As a child, his father asked him to place 100 numbered slips of paper of the same size into a matchbox, shuffle them the next day and then rearrange them in order. “This exercise taught me patience, and helped me focus,” he recalled.
When he committed to becoming a filmmaker, Tran developed a personal training regimen: carrying a pencil and small slips of paper to jot down notes on films he watched, succinctly expressing his thoughts. “You need to convey your thoughts in the simplest terms within a small space,” he said.
Surprisingly, he discarded these notes afterward. “You must trust that what you’ve expressed on paper will stay in your heart and mind, becoming a permanent part of your muscle memory. These words form the foundation of your identity as a director. If you can’t articulate it, it doesn’t exist. Every experience and sensation in your daily life should be expressed in words. This practice sharpens your sensitivity to the art of cinema and is a daily exercise for filmmakers.”
Tran also revisits classic films he admires, mentally “re-enacting” them with an emphasis on detail. “The more specific, the better. Recall every event, background sound, and your feelings at each moment. You can turn off the sound and watch the visuals or listen to the sound without the visuals. This method is especially useful for studying masterpieces,” he advised.
This daily regimen has helped Tran deepen his understanding of cinema and enrich his imagination, gradually cultivating his own sixth sense. “Filmmaking is a race against time, requiring swift decision-making. You must rely on your sixth sense and years of cultivated intuition. Of course, you also depend on your film knowledge. Throughout the filmmaking process, you must refine and organize your knowledge, developing your own style.”
Addressing young filmmakers’ concerns about self-doubt during the creative process, Tran acknowledged that directing offers no room for trial and error, underscoring the importance of self-training. “Before you get your first opportunity, you must have mastered your skills. For directors, the harsh reality is that you get only one chance and cannot afford to fail. You need to utilize everything you’ve learned to ensure success.”
Integrating Visuals, Music, and Performance to Create Gifts for Audiences
When asked about his focus in using cinematic language, Tran highlighted the importance of how shots transition and connect. “The way you transition from one shot to another defines you as a filmmaker. If you don’t concentrate on this, you’re merely depicting a theme,” he noted.
He lamented that many contemporary films resemble amateur videos shot on smartphones, blurring the line between everyday recording and artistic expression. “Filmmaking is not about imitating life or simply depicting events. Personal experiences bring personal emotions, which must be expressed as a unique language in your film.”
Tran’s transitions between shots are varied, sometimes starkly contrasting and other times seamlessly harmonious. A distant shot might follow a close-up, a silent scene might be succeeded by a noisy one. “Contrast creates excitement, capturing the audience’s interest and making the visuals more dynamic.” Similarly, harmonious transitions maintain a sense of continuity. “Harmony doesn’t mean successive close-ups but a blend of contrast and consistency, maintaining fluidity and continuity.” He emphasized that both contrast and consistency in transitions are crucial for creating the finest cinematic language, presenting it as a gift to the audience.
He also discussed the “musicality” of film editing and pacing, which is not necessarily reliant on background music. “In my recent work, I only used a short piece of music at the end because the film itself should convey music-like continuity and rhythm. I don’t believe in creating musicality by relying on music. Only when all emotions are perfectly aligned do I consider using music. Music should add extra value to a moment or scene.”
He cited his admiration for Terrence Malick’s THE NEW WORLD. “After 45 minutes, I started crying. The film resonated deeply with me, creating an incredible sense of ‘musical’ harmony. It’s almost magical how this resonance affects you viscerally, drawing you in completely. I was overwhelmed, utterly captivated by the film.”
Tran has worked with many celebrated actors like Tony Leung, Juliette Binoche, and Audrey Tautou. However, he values the actors’ on-screen expressiveness more than their personal insights. He recounted a story from the filming of ETERNITY with Tautou: she requested to improvise some scenes, asking him to keep the camera rolling. But before she fully expressed herself, Tran called “cut.” When Tautou complained, he politely suggested redoing the shot, but she insisted, “Don’t treat me like a fool. You already got the shot you wanted.”
Looking back, Tran still finds this amusing. “I needed only her performance within that shot. If an actor can unearth an exceptional understanding from their talent, which aligns with what I aim to convey, that’s even better.”
Finding the “Secret Structure” and Losing No Time
When it comes to storytelling, is it better to have a complex or simple narrative? For Tran, he isn’t overly reliant on scripts. “Once filming begins, you must forget the script. You know the theme and story well enough to focus on what a film truly is.”
He believes that while content is crucial, presenting it in the most profound, impactful way unique to cinema is the key to a great film. “We don’t need a convoluted story with 20 subplots and several twists. I need a simple story, from which I can extract a secret structure – this structure transcends the theme, evoking other sensory experiences and deep emotions, and adding depth to a character.”
Tran illustrated this with his latest film, THE TASTE OF THINGS, a simple story about a long-term employer-employee relationship evolving into something more profound. “The female lead fulfills the male lead’s wishes and leaves him a ‘daughter’ before she dies. It’s a deep story. I never explicitly say they formed a family or had a child, but viewers can sense it. They can feel my language – an unconventional yet natural family dynamic. This is the secret structure within the screenplay.”
From adapting Haruki Murakami’s NORWEGIAN WOOD to Alice Ferney’s THE ELEGANCE OF WIDOWS, Tran believes the key to bringing literature to the screen is making it his own. “You must pay close attention to the emotions in the work and remain faithful to the original author’s intent when adapting it.” Some say they can’t “see the original work” in Tran’s adaptations, but he doesn’t mind. “My adaptations reflect my own interpretation. As artists, we must be honest with ourselves and convey our feelings rather than merely replicating the original work.”
Tran is not a prolific director. Fans often wait five to ten years for his next film. He admits to some regret over this. “I wish I could release a film every two years, but it’s never happened because the themes I choose often require substantial budgets.” He lamented that too much of his time has been “wasted” in the past, “I envy directors who can consistently produce a film annually, enriching their lives through constant creation.”
Nevertheless, he remains hopeful for the future: “Until the last moment, I am learning new things, understanding new things, and in the conversations with audiences, I keep discovering what I have done. This is what I hope my next movie can do.”