Global Film Emperor

Chapter 368 Mickey's Past
PS: Duplicate chapters have been corrected. Refresh the page to see chapter 365, which is linked to this chapter. There will be two updates today!

In Lu Ze's memory, the most well-known film outside the industry for multi-point narration should be "Ju-on". Yes, a horror film. In that sense, multi-point narration and horror films are a good match, because the audience does not need to connect the plot on the spot to understand it. As long as it is scary, that's all that matters. The integrity of the story is not that important for horror films, is it?
After watching it the first time, the deep impression that horror movies leave on people allows them to easily connect the plot points after the movie ends, thus elevating the overall meaning of the horror film, helping them understand the director's true thoughts, and making the story truly richer.

As for the three-part structure, there's not much to say; almost all movies follow this format. The most famous example is Marvel movies, which have a beginning and an end, making them easy for even children to understand.

We've digressed. Although Lu Ze didn't approve of the multi-narrative film format, that wasn't the fundamental reason he disliked the script. If the disagreement was only due to the filming techniques, Lu Ze would still support Mickey because he trusted Mickey's cinematography skills.

The fundamental reason is that this movie... negated many beautiful things and denied many things that Lu Ze thought should have happened, which made it difficult for the somewhat old-fashioned Lu Ze to accept.

Just think about it, given Lu Ze's relationship with Mickey, he even had a fight with Mickey because of this movie. What would be the reaction of those with a sunny disposition when they see this movie? They'd definitely give Mickey a piece of their mind. Lu Ze refused to let Mickey make this movie in order to prevent that from happening.

When Lu Ze asked him a question, Mickey didn't answer at first. Instead, he buried his head between his legs and remained silent for a long time before raising his head. He rubbed his face, which was numb from drinking, and took a deep drag on the half-burnt cigarette without flicking off the ash. His face showed an unprecedented weariness.

"I didn't want to say this, but since you want to know, I might as well answer you. You know I went to prison, right? Do you know what kind of prison I went to?"

“You seem to have mentioned a prison for serious offenders, right? Of course I understand how abnormal it is for someone caught drunk driving to be locked up with a bunch of murderers, but... I don’t think it’s enough to make you so pessimistic, your spirit isn’t enough to be broken like that.”

"Yes... a prison for serious offenders, but it's not just a prison for serious offenders. Do you know who I'm locked up with? A bunch of serious offenders with mental illnesses who were released on medical parole and are now serving their sentences again. Isn't that enough?"

Instantly, a chill ran through him, and Lu Ze's hair stood on end. Being locked up with a group of ruthless killers was already terrifying enough, but if you added the fact that he was mentally unstable... it would be enough to make any normal person despair. In addition, from the perspective of Mickey's friend, there was a deep disgust and hatred for Lawrence. He was determined to kill Mickey, or at least drive him insane. How could one even describe such a ruthless person?
The un-flicked ash finally gave way and fell onto Mickey's instep, but he didn't seem to feel the heat of the embers in the ash. He simply patted his instep, leaving a gray mark, and kept his gaze fixed on the crystal chandelier that reflected light from multiple angles as he slowly recounted the past to Lu Ze.

"Serious offenders are in two-person rooms. My roommate was a man with bipolar disorder. He was brought in because he took drugs, had hallucinations, and killed his wife and children. Medical parole only requires controlling the mental illness to the point where the patient does not use violence, and then the patient can continue to serve his sentence. Because a large part of mental illness is incurable, so in the end, they are still sick. During the day, the man was very cold. It seemed that to punish himself, he would pick fights with other prisoners every day, fighting with people and beating himself up until he was covered in bruises. At night, he would cry loudly and wail like a vengeful ghost. Every day, I had to cover my ears tightly and hide under the covers to feel a little bit safe, but I was still worried that he would have an episode and kill me."

"At first, he drove me to the brink of a nervous breakdown, but gradually I got used to it. After being beaten up by him a few times, we actually became friends. He was the one who helped me deal with a few thugs who were after me, allowing me to get out unharmed. Perhaps the advantage of being in the same prison ward as mental patients is that there is no power there. I don't need to be forced to join any gang to protect myself. Otherwise, even if I got out unharmed, my fate would be much worse than when I was first released from prison."

"Gradually, I learned the rules for getting along with them. When they weren't having an attack, we could get along peacefully. When they did, we would quickly distance ourselves and visit them again once their condition had subsided. Actually, when they weren't having an attack... they were all nice people and very friendly. So I made friends with a lot of people. Later, our relationships grew closer and closer. They found out I was a director and provided me with a lot of material when I was writing 'The Effect.' They took the initiative to tell me their stories. Do you know what they said?"

"what?"

Lu Ze listened very attentively, and took the initiative to place the ashtray in front of Mickey so that he could extinguish it. He poured himself another glass of wine and silently pondered whether he would go crazy if he lived in that kind of environment. Oh right... he already went crazy, crazier than anyone else.

"They just want to apologize to those they killed. They didn't do it intentionally, even though they know it's pointless. They're still tormented by self-reproach and repent for their mistakes. They always cry when they talk about this. When I comfort them, they say it's their own fault, their mistake, and they should spend their lives making amends. While they want to atone for their crimes, the maximum sentence for mentally ill patients is life imprisonment. You can't expect them to commit suicide to pay for it. When I ask them what made them this way, they always remain silent. The final answer is… pressure, pressure from all sides. So I started writing, and that's how 'Rebirth' came about, carrying the nightmares of dozens of mentally ill patients." People's resilience varies. Asians are the most resilient because they have aspirations. Other races, especially whites, are not as resilient. Why? This isn't a racial issue, but rather a consequence of their living environment. In other words, it's all because of the high cost of living.

They find happiness too easily, which makes them unable to withstand the blow of losing it. For example, people in Nordic countries, like Iceland, have prisons with one-room apartments, showers, and kitchens. Inmates can even form a band and release an album. The benefits are incredibly high. If you throw them into Africa, see if they can handle it.
So don't assume that people with mental illness are too fragile, because most of them lived in environments you envy when they were healthy. In the end, they are just pitiful people who have lost everything.

Murder can never be whitewashed, regardless of whether he is mentally ill or not. But that doesn’t stop you from befriending him and listening to his past. It might give you some insights, and “Rebirth” is a collection of those insights.

"So I decided to make it because it was their wish, even though they were sentenced to life imprisonment and might never be able to see it in their lifetime. But I made a promise to them to show the messed-up side of life and let everyone see that this is... my fucking terrible life. But what they hope for is that after watching the movie, people will reflect on it and live with a beautiful yearning for life, and not follow their path, just like Hemingway wrote."

"This world is a good place, worth fighting for."

He said a lot and expressed the hopes of more than just himself, which greatly changed Lu Ze's view of his purpose in making this film, but he was still worried about his mental state.

"But your current state... is really too bad. If you really want to fight for this world, you shouldn't have this attitude towards life. Drinking day and night is putting too much strain on your body. Have you ever taken responsibility for yourself? If you can't even take responsibility for yourself, then how can you fulfill their wishes?"

Mickey was unmoved by Lu Ze's words of comfort. He rubbed his stubble, his face pale and swollen, his expression as gloomy as ever. When he met Lu Ze's gaze, he gave a bitter smile.

“I died the moment I went in, and I will never come back to life. This body is imprisoning me. In the end, I am just like them. I have lost everything. A funeral is being held in my mind. There is only one person who died, and that is me. There is only one person who attends the funeral and buries me with his own hands, and that is also me.”

"I just want to burn myself out, to make everyone see me, to let them all know that a man named Mickey Taylor died, and I want to make this movie, Lu Ze, please help me... I beg you."

A silence fell between them, the air thick with tension. Lu Ze struggled to draw oxygen from the stagnant space, while Mickey hugged his legs tightly, not looking at Lu Ze, and continued talking to himself.
Lu Ze got up, sat by the huge floor-to-ceiling window, lit a cigarette, took two inhales and two exhales, and tapped the window glass with his finger as if he wanted to crush the ant-sized vehicles that were moving in the middle of the road. His bathrobe was loose, revealing half of his muscular chest. The double-pane glass reflected his profile. In this dark night illuminated by the orange glow of the streetlights, the rough man looked surprisingly handsome.

He remained silent until the sun slowly rose from one end of the earth, turning everything crimson, and dawn broke... He made his own choice, looking at his friend who appeared unrestrained on the surface but was inwardly dead, his voice somewhat hoarse.

"Okay, but... you have to live well, don't die."

"..."

(End of this chapter)