BEHIND THE GENIUS: A FILMMAKER’S DANGEROUS OBSESSION WITH DECAY AND DELIRIUM. A shocking exposé of director Bi Gan’s BRUTAL creative process reveals a world of sleep deprivation, chemical stimulants, and a DANGEROUS fetishization of collective trauma. Our investigation uncovers the making of “Resurrection,” a film lauded by Cannes elites, born from a toxic cocktail of all-nighters, betel nut binges, and a director chasing hallucinations.
This isn’t art—it’s a CULT. Crews were pushed to the brink, surviving on nicotine and madness, while a French producer enforced a Cannes deadline like a tyrannical overseer. The result? A film that JURY-RIGGED a prestigious award with a manipulative, 36-minute vampire sequence, a thinly-veiled allegory for China’s own “restless spirits” and the “ghosts of history.” Bi Gan didn’t just make a movie; he constructed a waxen temple of national amnesia, designed to MELT before our eyes, erasing the very faces of the past he claims to mourn. Is this cinema’s future? A director, hailed as a visionary, literally playing with fire and wax to simulate decay while ignoring the real human cost?
His “love letter to cinema” is written in the blood of exhausted workers and the ashes of forgotten history, a perverse spectacle where audiences are tricked into applauding their own cultural oblivion. The wax theater isn’t a prop—it’s a confession: a monument built only to disintegrate, revealing the HOLLOW CORE of modern art-house spectacle. We are now all seated in his crumbling theater, watching shadows of the past flicker and die, told it’s a masterpiece. The dream he captured is our collective nightmare, and the screen is a mirror showing us an emptiness we dare not name.
