Universe Exploration Editorial Department

— How Low-Budget Science Fiction Films Are Made —

Science Fiction Gives Way to the Absurd

After watching this film for the first time, I believe many elements will have left a deep impression on us:

·       • The Hello Kitty humidifier on the desk;

·       • Jump cuts with unclear meaning;

·       • The elusive interviewer;

·       • Camera movements shakier than Wong Kar-wai's;

·       • Dialects;

·       • Sun Yitong's poetry and the pot on his head;

·       • The inexplicable meteorite hunter;

·       • The production crew is genuinely poor.

Next, I will analyze the purpose of these elements and the application of realist techniques in this film.

Although "Universe Exploration Editorial Department" is called a science fiction film, there isn't a single shot in the entire film that can be called having "sci-fi elements." The plot becomes increasingly absurd, reaching its peak when Sun Yitong is finally carried away by sparrows - and even this can at best be called "magical." So how does this film express "science fiction"? It's simple: by contrasting the highly abstract scientific spirit with reality, using absurdist techniques to highlight and strengthen this sense of rupture. In this enormous gap, what we see is humanistic care and existentialist plot.

How is the Sense of Absurdity Created?

At the beginning, the film cuts in from an interview shot on an old television. Whether it's the aspect ratio, picture quality, or the background music that belongs in a Spring Festival Gala, the audience immediately feels a sense of alienation: this is another space-time. And there's a strange point here: the cameraman is within the frame, so where does the audience's perspective come from?

That is to say, for the reporter and the interviewed Teacher Tang, their audience is in the camera, while we watching the film have been repositioned as bystanders - people who silently observe everything happening without being involved.

This differs from typical film techniques. It doesn't aim to create the illusion that there's a real world within the screen. On the contrary, it emphasizes a sense of alienation, and alienation means difficulty in empathizing, thereby laying the foundation for the absurd tone of the entire work. From another perspective, difficulty in empathizing also makes it easier to achieve comedic effects.

In this shot, what we see is again the perspective of the camera from the previous shot. At the same time, the irregular shaking of the dialogue and image once again reminds us that what's in front of us is not a real world. It's not audience → world (direct viewing), but audience → old television → world. The sense of alienation continues to strengthen. (There's already a sad, thick barrier between us) (sad)

(Warning: Multiple images ahead)

Here the scene shifts to the present, with Aunt Qin seeking sponsorship, but the camera floats erratically, stubbornly refusing to give the conversation partner a shot. These sets of images, besides explaining the magazine's situation (tracking paranormal events, magazines in storage, glory no more - if there ever was glory), emphasize that we as invisible observers (as bystanders) are unrelated to the scene. We are merely observing and examining our surroundings. Of course, this seemingly random scanning is actually all arranged by the director. Here, obviously different from above, we see the image directly rather than through the medium of television.

The scene cuts back to the TV interview. Here the reporter asks if the cameraman's position is appropriate. Obviously, this is not the "final cut," otherwise we wouldn't see this kind of footage that should have been edited out. Once again, we've been repositioned as bystanders, an invisible cameraman. At this point, the work is in an "unfinished" state, making it appear less serious.

We come to a very interesting shot! The Geiger counter from the previous scene and the Hello Kitty humidifier are juxtaposed in one frame, becoming an excellent metaphor for the entire film. A sudden harassing phone call interrupts the narrative rhythm, as if telling you that life is life - it's always full of surprises and will never let you get what you want. The sense of absurdity sharply stands out at this moment, and this prominence comes from the collision between ideals and life.

At the same time, the Hello Kitty also hints that the magazine office is a relatively domestic space, where most of the staff members have a casual attitude.

This is the technique of realism - in fact, every detail has been carefully selected, but it looks like some seemingly unrelated things are randomly piled together. Why do we feel it's random? This is precisely the role that the director has established earlier - we are just unrelated bystanders, idly scanning around. So here, absurdity is extended into a kind of everyday occurrence, as if it permeates every corner and every day.

Azlan

2024/2/10