门徒电影 – 31/07/2026

It feels like many people are very curious about Tan Jianci’s choices. For example, “Why Not Cross the River Together.” Over the past two years, he has demonstrated to the industry that he can take root and thrive in the film business, thanks to the back-to-back box-office successes of two realistic films, “The You I Lost” and “Deafening.”

So it’s no surprise that he chose a film like “Empty Gun.” From genre to the grayscale of characters, that is a narrative terrain brimming with creative potential. However, the choice of “Why Not Cross the River Together” came as a surprise to some. Historical dramas—just the sound of them seems like a retreat into one’s comfort zone, as if, after proving oneself in the film industry, one has once again turned back to what appears to be a safer path. But is that really the case?

In fact, it is not that Tan Jianji is not thinking about broadening the field, but about broadening himself. These two are fundamentally different. Expanding into new fields sounds impressive, and putting down roots in the film industry—where A- list stars only take on movie roles—seems like the standard path to advancement for actors. But at what cost does this path come? It demands endless waiting, a wildly uneven landscape of industry scripts, and leaves actors, in the prime of their lives, reduced to passivity in pursuit of empty fame. Essentially, this is not progress; it is narrow-minded self‑imprisonment and rigidity.

Tan Jianci doesn’t need that; he doesn’t crave flattering labels. What he seeks is freedom from being pigeonholed— the courage to look inward and uncover just how much potential still lies within him. And “Why Not Cross the River Together” is precisely like that. This isn’t your typical historical romance that keeps you in your comfort zone. It is a period espionage drama, cloaked in historical trappings, yet it delves into the tragic dimensions of heroism—more akin to a modern spy thriller transplanted into a historical setting. The character Xie Que Shan bears a tainted reputation, treads on thin ice, and struggles to survive in the shadows of covert conflict. At its core, this play carves out a space for the characters, exploring how a person in profound solitude comes to terms with themselves.

Including a large number of scenes is wrestling with their own, inner loneliness, ferocious, forbearance, that kind of sad doctrine, are all forced to swallow. More importantly, this character seems to be typecast from the moment they appear, lacking a conventional arc of growth. But the real test for an actor lies in how they can introduce variations within a character who seems “set in stone,” and in rendering a different psychological nuance in every single scene.

Therefore, what Tan Jianci has always pursued is never a good reputation or the expansion of his field, but the expansion of himself. He masters deeply layered, intricate characters, revealing the gradual unraveling of human layers beneath an outwardly unchanging facade—this is what truly matters to him. Moreover, we all know how arduous Tan Jianci’s journey has been—starting from supporting roles. The more this is the case, the more he understands that what actors fear most is a sense of shame: not the shame of fully immersing oneself in a role, but the shame of one’s identity—the dread that playing certain types of characters will strip them of a particular label.

But he knew that this sense of shame would wear him down and, what’s more, confine him within self-imposed limits. So from the very beginning, he took a different path: an idol by background, yet unburdened when it came to acting. Now he’s skyrocketing in popularity, but he pays no mind to those who claim he’s simply reverted to historical dramas. Because these distractions mean nothing to him; his roles are the best proof of that, and he’s confident he can bring them the gravitas they deserve. This is what gives him his confidence.

So you see him—he dares to make choices and to broaden his horizons, because an actor’s greatest allure lies in the experiences they live, not in how they manage their career. To merely manage a hollow reputation, to peddle a brand called “Tan Jianci”—that is the greatest disgrace for an actor. But Tan Jianci refuses to stoop to such tactics; he proves himself time and again, even within roles that seem rigidly confined by genre. “Love in the Long Run” is like this, “The Charm of Hunters” is like this, “You, Whom I Lost” is like this, “Love Has Its Sparks” is like this—“Why Don’t We Cross the River Together” will be no different.#我在微博聊电影##电影正当夏#
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