Chapter 1028: An Unusual Theatre Experience (II)
The audience held on through every scene.
When the camera dropped from the sky to the marketplace, then swept the length of the inner palace and dwelt on the throne, Victor had to physically restrain himself from reaching out to touch it. That would constitute harm to a third party, he told himself, more than half seriously. Around him, people were exhaling in short bursts, half-words forming and dissolving before they could become sentences.
Nobody had vocabulary for this. They could only produce the sounds of people encountering something they lacked the category for.
They uttered involuntary cries at the princess’s first appearance. They reacted to the wolf-transformation with sounds that were not quite screams — not quite — but were not anything dignified either. When the foreign prince appeared and the court filled around him, the hall acquired a collective held breath. When the princess lost control and the palace began to come apart, every person in the room made some noise. It was not a theater crowd’s careful restraint. It was something entirely different: people who had temporarily lost the option of restraint, who could only release their feelings into the air because there was nowhere else for them to go.
Victor thought Roland would probably file this under bullet screens.
He didn’t know where the thought came from. He’d never heard the term.
He was still rigid in his seat when the princess, fully transformed, leaped over the hall. The hair on his arms stood straight. His hands had locked around the armrests long before that moment and refused to release.
Then the song started.
He felt the tension bleed out of his shoulders in real time — not through any act of will but because the music simply reached in and moved something. Sadness and relief and a kind of stubbornness arrived together. He looked at the wolf-form moving through open white space and felt, without quite understanding why, the particular emotion of someone who’d chosen a hard road and found that they did not regret it.
He’d left somewhere once, too. The music knew about leaving.
His eyes were wet. He didn’t try to address that; everyone around him was in the same state.
The applause that followed — before the film had even continued — was the sound of people releasing pressure that had been building for two hours. Victor joined it completely, without self-consciousness, which surprised him. The experience had stripped something away.
Roland did not exaggerate, he thought. Not one word.
Kajen had lost the moment the song began.
He sat with this knowledge as the film continued: calm, steady, the way you sit with something that has already happened and cannot be undone. It was not about him personally. The loss was total and objective — this film, in every dimension that he could evaluate and several he was still learning to identify, exceeded his new play. There was nothing to argue.
He had watched the first section with his professional attention still half-intact, asking technical questions, logging the acting errors. There were some. In a stage production, an audience of fifty would have registered each one. Here they registered nothing — not because the audience was inattentive but because the sheer volume of information flooding in at every moment made small flaws irretrievable. The eye could attend to only so much. When it was saturated, precision errors vanished.
Then he had stopped analyzing and simply watched.
He thought about his teacher.
The landmark of his teacher’s career had been the large backdrop — not just a hint of setting but a real visual claim on where the action was happening. It had transformed plays. Every troupe had adopted it. Then came the removable wooden house: the set piece that could appear, be used, be struck, allowing the setting to change in real time. Another transformation. Both were advances in the same direction: make the world around the actors more present, more convincing, more specific.
What Star Flower Troupe had done was carry that logic past every limit he’d imagined for it. They hadn’t improved the setting. They had made the audience live inside the setting. The stage had ceased to exist as a separate space.
He thought of the single greatest constraint of his art: the distance between performer and audience. Thirty feet of air between the actor’s face and the gallery. In that distance, subtlety died. You amplified everything — expression, gesture, voice — until it could travel across the gap. The result was stylized, effective, and fundamentally different from what a human face actually did in moments of genuine feeling.
The magic movie had removed the gap.
Which meant that acting skill — real acting skill, the kind his students had spent years acquiring, the infinitely fine instrument of a face in close range — would matter more than it had ever mattered before. Not less.
The loss is temporary, he told himself. The work is not wasted.
He felt this settle as certainty, not consolation.
The candles came up. The stone pillar returned to visibility as the warmth rose. Chairs and floor and the ordinary fact of being indoors reassembled themselves. No one moved. The hall sat in the film’s wake like a room after a storm.
Kajen Fels put his hands together.
The sound traveled. One by one, slowly, then quickly, the rest of the audience joined it — and the waves of it filled the small, round room.
“Mr. Kajen —” Behind him, he heard Roentgen’s voice crack at the edges. Egrepo silent beside her. Bernis with glistening eyes.
“Don’t cry,” he said, without turning around. His own eyes were warm; he didn’t know for what exactly. Perhaps for the years. Perhaps for the odd dignity of being genuinely defeated by something magnificent. “Not one moment of your training has been wasted.”
“Master — what do you mean —”
“The greatest flaw of stage drama is distance,” he said. “Distance kills nuance. The magic movie eliminates distance. When we find our path back in — and we will — the work you’ve done will matter more than it ever did. One perfect, real smile at close range will hold a room. Until then —” He paused. “The film deserved applause.”
The ovation continued. The Wolf Princess became, within days, the most celebrated production in Neverwinter.
Chapter 1028: An Unusual Theatre Experience (II)
Translator: TransN Editor: TransN
The audience didn’t divert their attention from the breathtaking shots as the camera shifted its focus from the sky to the earth.
In fact, the sudden influx of the images made the movie even more fascinating. Victor was overwhelmed by the bustling marketplace and the splendid inner palace in the movie. He fought his urge to stand up and touch the throne, as he didn’t want to cause any unintended loss to “the third party”,
The audience in the hall sucked in their breaths. Words had completely abandoned them. Every now and then, they uttered short cries of surprise.
They were awestruck by every single change in the scene.
They gave an involuntary exclamation at the first appearance of the princess.
They cried out as the princess transformed into a wolf when she turned 14.
They yelled when the foreign prince visited the country.
When they saw the princess lose control of her power and destroy the palace, the entire hall was stirred.
Completely different from a traditional theatre where the audience was supposed to keep quiet and stay calm, the “movie theatre” exploded with interjections.
Victor knew this had nothing to do with the audience’s manner. They simply couldn’t contain themselves. The viewers, on one hand, enjoyed the new
theatre experience and feared what would happen next on the other. They had no way to channel their emotions but to produce various odd sounds. Only in this way would they know that they weren’t dreaming and that somebody was with them witnessing the wonder!
Roland would probably categorize the audience’s reactions as another type of “bullet screens”.
While the audience was shouting, the princess transformed herself into a giant wolf and departed for the snow land. When she leaped over his head, Victor felt all his hair stand on its end. He almost wanted to bolt out from the room.
However, a beautiful song calmed him down.
All his uneasiness dissolved into a multitude of feelings: sadness, bitterness, relief, and determination. Victor felt his eyes filling!
At that moment, he seemed to understand the princess. He felt sorrowful for her being wronged but also proud of her bravery.
The scene changed with the flow of the sweet melody and the storyline of the film. Victor was deeply moved by the tune. Looking back on his own experience, he found resonance in the song.
Who had not been wronged or misunderstood before?
Yet most people choose to remain silent!
Victor was not afraid of the wolf girl anymore. He applauded her decision to leave!
Victor seemed to see past the wolf girl to himself, who had also left his native town.
Without a shadow of a doubt, the music was a stroke of genius. It did not steal the focus but was instead in perfect harmony with the movie.
From the loud applause of the audience, he knew the song had moved everybody in the hall. The whole room suddenly erupted into a deafening cheer at this moment.
In a split second, Victor had already formed his opinion on the movie.
Roland’s advertisement was not exaggerating at all.
It was definitely a masterpiece ahead of its time!
…
He lost.
The moment the song rang, Kajen knew he had lost to May. It was not about his personal failure. In fact, “The Wolf Princess” defeated his new play in every aspect.
Plays were essentially a form of entertainment.
At first, Kajen had been dumbstruck by the film and wondered how Roland could possibly achieve this. Soon, he became numb to the constant shock. The magic movie simply blew him away. All his knowledge about acting accumulated over the past decades seemed to become incredibly absurd.
The audience in the theatre actually had quite high expectations of new plays. Although they were not as picky as nobles, they did know the difference between a good play and a bad one. In other words, it was hard to fool them. Yet, when watching the new movie, everybody was now flabberghasted like an ignorant and uncivilized country bumpkin.
Kajen did not blame them.
It actually took him a great deal of self-control to maintain his silence as well.
Meanwhile, Kajen knew his new play could definitely not arouse the audience like the magic movie did.
Everybody would think “The Wolf Princess” was undoubtedly much better than his play.
Did they not notice the acting mistakes in the movie?
Of course they did.
Nonetheless, the movie was so good that they could simply overlook those little mistakes.
Kajen knew the amount of information a man could receive within a period of time was limited. As the audience was overwhelmed by the story and images, a few small errors would barely divert their attention.
So was this an unfair competition?
Kajen did not think so.
He knew the development of theatrical plays better than anybody else.
The reason why famous actors and actresses always favored big theatres was that big theatres were financially more capable of providing better costumes, equipment, and settings.
These elements were also the key to the success of a play.
In fact, the success of Kajen’s teacher was largely attributed to the usage of large stage backdrops in his plays. Kajen’s teacher reached a pinnacle in his career when he had invented a removable wooden house. Ever since then, all other troupes had followed his example. The removable wooden house had thus become a staple in every play. Without good equipment or costumes, no actor or actress could give an excellent performance.
The more lifelike and detailed the setting was, the better theatrical effect.
Star Flower Troupe simply perfected their theatrical scenery.
Kajen felt relieved after he came to this conclusion.
He leaned back on the soft recliner and breathed out a deep sigh.
Finally, he could focus on the brilliant movie.
…
The story was drawing to its end.
The candles were rekindled, and people could once again see the chairs and the stone pillars as the light was restored.
However, not a single person left. Everybody was still savoring the aftertaste of the story, revolving the bitter battle between the wolf prince and the demon lord in their heads.
Kajen Fels was the first to applaud.
The applause jerked the audience out of the trance. Soon, more people joined, and the waves of thunderous applause swept over the entire theater.
“Mr. Kajen…”
Looking at the applauding Kajen, Roetgen and Egrepo almost burst into tears. Bennis’ eyes were glistening.
“Don’t cry.” The old actor’s eyes also reddened, although he did not know what he was sad about. These actors and actresses had spent years perfecting their acting skills, but now all their hard work had been for nothing. Nobody who had experienced the new film would ever want to watch traditional plays again. The utter defeat was devastating, but Kajen knew he could not give up. “None of your work is going to be wasted!” said he firmly.
“Mr. Kajen, what do you mean…”
“What’s the biggest downside of a play? It’s the distance!” Kajen said tremulously. “The distance between the stage and the audience makes it impossible to capture every single change in the actors’ expressions, but the magic movie has solved this problem. I’m sure in the future, acting skills will become even more important. Probably one day, just a perfect smile would
grab your audience’s attention. So, our failure is just temporary. It doesn’t mean your hard work has amounted to nothing!”
Kajen paused for a second and then continued, “Don’t worry. I assure you that we’ll come back once we figure out the mechanism behind the magic movie. We’ll soon return to compete with Star Flower Troupe. By that time, people would see for themselves. Now, dry your eyes and stand upright. The movie deserved an applause.”
In the tumultuous applause, “The Wolf Princess” soon became the most renowned film in the whole city of Neverwinter.