??Chapter 122: 121. Put on so background music_1
Chapter 122: 121. Put on so background music_1
“There really seems to be sothing wrong with Nanhua Hospital,”
Lu Ban concluded after watching the live broadcast.
However, he currently didn’t have the ti to deal with this issue; he wasn’t a mber of any ghost-hunting daredevil team. His top priority now was to make his own movie.
Lu Ban sent a ssage to Song Yunyan’s secretary, Li Zijian, reminding him of the Nanhua Hospital matter, then imrsed himself once again in his work and studies.
A week later, Lu Ban had completed the rough cut of the film. From the perspective of the film, it was now watchable, and the plot at least understandable.
But things like shot division and rhythm were still very rough.
To refine it further would take at least another week, aning it wouldn’t be until October that it could be viewed properly.
However, before that, Lu Ban still had so odds and ends to work on.
First up were the background music and the song.
In his previous videos, genuflecting in reality, the ambient sounds of actual locations were the best soundtrack.
But that definitely wouldn’t work for a movie; this wasn’t so handheld cara type of mockuntary. At critical monts, you still need a bit of a score.
Besides, after the movie ended, soone had to sing a song, right?
So, through Song Yunyan’s connections, Lu Ban found an independent musician who was said to be quite good to take on the job.
He was going to et this musician today.
The musician’s studio was located in the heart of Jiangcheng City, just three subway stops away from the old street, on the sixth floor of an office building. It looked quite artistic.
“Hello, I’m Hamr,”
The guy looked to be only a couple of years older than Lu Ban, emanating the vibe of an artistic youth as if he could pick up a wooden guitar at any mont, sit down, gaze 45 degrees into the sky, and let fall a bright and beautiful sorrow.
“I’m Lu Ban,”
Lu Ban greeted and looked around the music studio.
“This studio is pretty good, nothing weird about it.”
“Weird stuff?”
Hamr didn’t quite understand but didn’t ask further.
After all, the amount offered was too much.
Otherwise, as a music producer who was still relatively hot, he wouldn’t take on the scoring of a web drama that wasn’t going to be in theaters.
After a brief chat, Hamr got right to the point.
“What kind of score are you looking for?”
“Let
think,”
Lu Ban considered for a mont.
He really didn’t know music, his best instrunt being the recorder learned in elentary school, barely able to play “Ode to Joy.”
So, for him to state his requirents was a bit difficult.
“I need a very eerie piece of music, sothing really scary. Also, another one that’s very scary, very eerie, and then one that’s not so eerie, a bit warr.”
“…”
Black lines appeared on Hamr’s forehead.
When those who don’t understand the field try to explain their needs, it’s usually this kind of colorful description of black; he had seen plenty of this before.
“How about this, do you have any samples or clips? I can take a look and then co up with a solution for you?”
Hamr asked.
This kind of music producer typically had a certain collection of tracks, mostly accumulated from everyday inspiration.
Generally, if asked to score movies or TV dramas, for lesser ones, he’d just pick so less excellent pieces from his collection, adapt them slightly, and sell them off—recycling waste.
For the more advanced ones, where the production team had special requirents, he would ask to see the corresponding clips to create sothing. When he said “create,” it often ant just selecting from his own collection of tracks.
For the ones that paid more, that’s when he would have to compose on the spot.
So, for so people, when they see Hamr effortlessly producing music, it’s not inspiration, it’s purely accumulation.
For a music producer like him, what he fears the most is the other party coming empty-handed and unable to express their own ideas, leaving everything to Hamr’s free will while still being picky.
“I have, I have, I cut a test clip, do you want to see it?”
Lu Ban fished out his phone.
“Let’s go, we’ll watch it in the screening room.”
Hamr swept out his arm, clearly delighted.
Having a test clip made everything easier, music production was simply a piece of cake.
He led Lu Ban to the studio’s small screening room, copied the footage to the projector, and pressed play.
In the beginning, there was a lone flat boat, bobbing on the waves. The cara angle was from above. Hamr thought that they must have used a drone to create such an isolated and desolate atmosphere.
“The water is pretty blue, the setting is really nice.”
Hamr complinted.
Following that, he caught sight of the enormous monster beneath the sea along with Lu Ban’s line of vision.
The deep blue of the sea, the pitch-black monster encompassing the small boat like a black hole, evoking an almost suffocating fear.
This was a manifestation of thalassophobia.
Hamr initially thought it was just a movie, but as the shadowy figure from the deep sea beca increasingly dense, he felt an instinctive tension.
Splish—
The monster burst through the waves, creating massive swells. Despite the scene being incredibly perilous, Hamr, for so reason, saw a certain beauty in it.
Just like a giant blue whale surfacing to breathe, gliding through the ocean, the grandeur of nature’s creation was breathtaking.
“Is this CGI, because shooting this for real would be too dangerous, wouldn’t it…”
Hamr muttered.
The small boat was capsized next, and as Lu Ban sank beneath the water, through his eyes, Hamr saw the clear seabed scene.
Nurous giant undulating tentacles made up the monster’s body, extending in all directions as if to pull one into the abyss. As the cara zood out, Lu Ban’s tiny figure was adrift in the sea, forming a stark contrast with the enormous creature.
In that mont, the insignificance of humankind and the grandeur of nature were fully exposed.
Hamr took a sharp breath.
This kind of ultimate visual pleasure didn’t require understanding. Like the awe felt at the sight of lightning or the tremble before a flood’s rush, just watching this scene was enough to make one forget to breathe.
Right when Hamr felt the oppressively realistic footage was making it hard for him to breathe, he realized he actually couldn’t breathe.
As if subrged, the lungs of a drowning person fill with water until every air sac is compressed and the air squeezed out; he would feel as though he was being painfully gripped, and no amount of struggle would free him from the fate of death.
Drowning is one of the most painful ways to die.
Hamr felt a tightness in his chest and shortness of breath, until a beam of light descended from above, shining upon the massive monster.
Buzz—
Like a swarm of bees scattered by flas, the giant monster instantly fragnted, breaking into countless tiny beings, which were then scorched by the flas, igniting a brilliant light at the seabed.
It was only then that Hamr gasped deeply, staring at the pale fire that stretched for miles under the sea, suddenly feeling a sense of sanctity, majesty, and solemnity.
As Lu Ban was pulled up in the movie, Hamr finally snapped back to reality. The opening minutes, nearly devoid of dialogue, were overall excellent, powerful, and he had been completely engrossed.
“Lu Ban… Teacher Lu Ban, there’s sothing special about this film.”
Hamr savored the earlier sensation of subtle suffocation, the loneliness of being deep within the sea, and finally, the redemption of seeing the pale flas. It was rare for him to experience such rich feelings from imagery, and as a highly inspired music producer, just that brief mont had stimulated several different lodies in Hamr’s mind.
These lodies burrowed into his brain like worms, as if they were ant to be there by their very nature.
“Hmm, not bad, not bad.”
Lu Ban nodded in agreent, but having observed the music producer’s reaction, he felt a bit puzzled.
Could there be sothing off with the film?
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