本文摘自《意林》（原创版）2025 年 08 版。
This article is extracted from Yi Lin (Original Edition) 2025, 08. See below for the English version.

ne-zha

我有一种死磕的性格

文 / 饺子

从 2015 年开始做《哪吒之魔童降世》算起，这些角色已经伴随我 10 年了，哪吒在我心中的形象越来越鲜活，当动画师无法理解他的时候，我会自己上——毕竟是自己创作出来的东西，自己最了解。

两部“哪吒”电影制作都花了 5 年。倒不是特意定这么长时间，只是计划赶不上变化。我总是感叹，当时做第一部时也是年轻，不管不顾，先“挖了坑”再说，导致第二部“填坑”的难度陡然增高，编剧也用了更久的时间。

大的方面我倒不担心，但一些具体的呈现方式很让我头痛。一开始的时候，我脑袋里就是一团糨糊，要面对不少很棘手的问题。

我创作的状态，在有些人看来可能是在发呆，比如我会躺在地板上看着天花板，就这么一直想，到最后，一下就贯通了。

似乎所有的难题都是这样：只要不断去思考一个问题，久而久之，在某一个瞬间，在一片混沌中突然搭上线了，然后一下就想通了。人类解决所有难题其实都是这个套路。创作多了之后，渐渐地我就发现，过程虽然是艰苦的、痛苦的，但它总有出路。

编剧的工作结束之后，接下来的难点，就转移到怎么样让别人明白我的想法，以及怎么样激发别人的创作能力上。开始分镜的时候，我们找了很多国内顶尖的分镜师。一些分镜师看了交给他的那个段落觉得简直无从下手——这要怎么画？但我是个不会妥协的人，我们不图快，只图好，因为观众给了我们这样的机会，让我们可以动用最好的资源进行创作，我们就一定要把资源用到极致，要对得起观众。

所以，第二部“磨”分镜的时候很慢，比第一部还慢。每一个角度画好之后，我虽然感觉“可以，这样挺好”，但总还会反复问：“能不能更好？”然后就会不断尝试。这跟做第一部时不同。第一部时是抓重点，其他的差不多就行，因为那个时候成本受限，不能拖太久，否则团队会被拖死，而第二部时我希望每个环节都做到最好。

这个过程中，我们也走过很多弯路，不断试错，才找到一个确定的方向。结果，在制作的时候，又会遇到硬件吃不消或者画面的质量提不上去之类的问题，导致我们不得不推翻原来的思路，重新找另外一条路。

好多镜头一直没有答案，直到最后我们要交片才得到答案，但这个也不一定是最终答案，只是我们在现有的人力资源、硬件资源和时间资源的可控范围内所能得到的最佳答案。

我原先提的标准，是一个大家达不到的标准，得先去够，然后我们看极限在哪儿。这也是动画的想象力所在，必须给观众看没看过的东西，不然没新鲜感。这种突破带来的快乐是巨大的。后来我们看到一些成品画面的时候，都觉得不枉辛苦一场，一些人甚至感动得掉眼泪。如果不逼，大家也不知道自己那么厉害。

我和许多跟我一起做“哪吒”系列动画片的小伙伴已经共事 10 年了。当时做《哪吒之魔童降世》，留下来的是最纯粹的一批人，他们真的是想做心目中最好的动画作品，我们的出发点是一样的。既然大家的价值观和努力方向是一样的，就没什么好说的了。

创作过程挺难的，但大家并没有崩溃放弃。我们全体创作人员都特别单纯，一门心思想把它给做好，而不是只把它当成一个赚钱的项目。这种纯粹的心态特别重要。虽然大家“磨”起来很痛苦，但都对这个项目足够有信心，也对我提的意见足够包容，所以这些难而正确的事情，还是非常执着地做了下去。

这 5 年来，作为创作者，我也有了一些变化，感觉自己更纯粹了。有了第一部的经验，现在我创作时会更加不急不躁，会更耐得住。其实我以前就是这种性格。我工作时是“单线程”的，不想一下子干太多的事儿，就想把眼前这件事儿做踏实了、做好了。我也有“完美主义强迫症”，不做好的话，它就老挂在心里面。对我来说，脑子里想着这事儿，手上干着那事儿，就很难受，很内耗。

从小到大我一直都是一个自我怀疑的人，从来就没自信过，哪怕做出了“哪吒”系列电影也是一样。因为只有不断自我怀疑才能够进步。每一次都要突破极限，每一部作品都不能保留任何实力，每一次都得全力以赴，这种压力是会带来痛苦的。但现在我不内耗了。我善待这个痛苦，我和它和解了。我觉得一直苦思冥想、不骄不躁，总会有答案。当你知道一定熬得出来，就不会那么痛苦，你就会善待它，包容它，接纳它，这就是个过程。

我有一种死磕的性格。有时候我也想过是不是别死磕了，或者就这么算了之类，但这种时刻经历多了之后，我就不会把它当回事儿了。生命不就是这样的吗？人类的底层基因就决定了要经历长久的痛苦，才能获得片刻的欢愉，这是谁都没办法打破的。而且一个人不可能长久地欢愉，因为这样欢愉的阈值会越来越高，无论是多巴胺还是内啡肽，都会需要更大的剂量。可以说，痛苦多、欢乐少是人的常态，所以只要看清了客观规律，就不会纠结了。

“哪吒”系列动画电影的命题是反抗命运。可能有些人觉得，对于命运，再怎么努力也改变不了，但我相信命运可以改变，所以选了动画这条路，并一直在践行我的选择。

哪吒身上一定有我的一些性格、想法的映射，与此同时，哪吒更极致，更张扬，更纯粹。

能与哪吒相遇，我挺感激。这些年我的白头发变多了，但我没有刻意去管，反正人都会老，而可以一直做自己喜欢的事，很幸运。对于动画创作，最终还是要不断地寻求突破，不断地生长，我认为这就是我的生命的意义所在。

I Have a Stubborn Personality

Article by Jokelate

Starting from 2015, when I began working on Ne Zha: Birth of the Demon Child, these characters have been with me for ten years. Ne Zha has grown more and more vivid in my mind. Whenever animators can’t quite grasp his essence, I step in myself—after all, it’s my own creation, and no one understands it better than I do.

Both Ne Zha films took five years each to make. It wasn’t a deliberate timeline—it’s just that plans can’t keep up with changes. I often sigh that when I made the first one, I was young and reckless, digging a “pit” before thinking of how to fill it. That made the second film far harder to write, and the script took much longer.

The big picture didn’t worry me as much, but the specific ways of presenting things gave me headaches. At the beginning, my mind was a complete mess, full of difficult problems to solve.

My creative state might look like daydreaming to others. Sometimes I would lie on the floor, staring at the ceiling, just thinking. Then, suddenly, everything would click into place.

It seems that all problems are like this: if you keep thinking about them long enough, one day, in the middle of the chaos, the connections suddenly form and clarity arrives. That’s the way humans solve problems. After going through this process many times, I realized that even though it’s grueling and painful, there’s always a way out.

Once the script was finished, the challenge shifted to making others understand my ideas and inspiring their creativity. When we began storyboarding, we brought in many of the best storyboard artists in China. Some of them looked at the scenes I gave them and felt completely lost—“How can this even be drawn?” But I’m not someone who compromises. We don’t chase speed, only quality. The audience has given us the opportunity to use the best resources, so we must push those resources to the limit and be worthy of their trust.

That’s why the storyboarding for the second film was even slower than the first. After finishing a shot, even if I thought, “This works, this looks fine,” I would still keep asking: “Can it be better?” Then we would keep trying again. This was different from the first film, where we had to focus only on the essentials due to limited budget and time—otherwise the team would collapse. But with the second film, I wanted every step to be the best it could possibly be.

Of course, we took many detours, constantly trying and failing until we found the right direction. And then, during production, we’d still run into problems: hardware not keeping up, or visuals not reaching the desired quality. That forced us to abandon old approaches and search for new ones.

Many shots had no solution until the very end, right before delivery. Even then, those weren’t the “final” answers, but rather the best ones achievable given our manpower, hardware, and time.

The standards I set were often beyond reach. We had to aim high first, then see where the real limit was. That’s the nature of animation—it must show audiences things they’ve never seen before. Without that freshness, there’s no magic. And the joy of breaking through those limits is immense. When we saw some of the finished shots, we felt all the hardship was worthwhile—some people were even moved to tears. If we hadn’t pushed ourselves, no one would’ve realized how powerful they really were.

I’ve worked with many teammates on the Ne Zha series for ten years now. Back when we made Ne Zha: Birth of the Demon Child, those who stayed were the purest group—the ones who truly wanted to create the best animation they could imagine. We shared the same starting point, the same values, and the same direction. With that kind of unity, there’s no need for extra words.

The process of creation was hard, but no one collapsed or gave up. Everyone on the team was single-mindedly focused on making the work great—not just treating it as a money-making project. That pure mindset was extremely important. Even though the painstaking “grinding” process was painful, people still had enough faith in the project, and enough tolerance for my demands, that we all pressed forward with those difficult but right choices.

Over these five years, I’ve also changed. I feel more pure as a creator. With the experience of the first film, I’m calmer now, more patient. Actually, I’ve always been this way. I work in “single-thread” mode—I don’t like doing too many things at once. I just want to finish what’s in front of me, and do it well. I also have a kind of perfectionist compulsion: if something isn’t done well, it lingers in my mind like an open loop. For me, it’s unbearable to think about one thing while working on another—it wastes my energy.

I’ve always been self-doubting, never confident, even after making the Ne Zha films. Because only constant self-doubt leads to progress. Each time, I must push my limits. Each work has to be done with nothing held back, all-in. That kind of pressure is painful. But now, I no longer waste energy fighting it. I’ve learned to accept the pain, to reconcile with it. I believe that if you keep thinking, keep steady, there will always be an answer. Once you know you can endure, the pain becomes more bearable. You learn to treat it kindly, embrace it, accept it—it’s just part of the process.

I have a stubborn personality. Sometimes I wonder if I should stop being so stubborn, maybe just let things go. But after experiencing those moments many times, I’ve stopped taking them so seriously. Isn’t that life? Human nature is built on the fact that we must endure long periods of suffering for brief flashes of joy. No one can break that rule. And lasting joy is impossible, because the threshold keeps rising—whether it’s dopamine or endorphins, the “dose” has to be stronger each time. In truth, suffering more and rejoicing less is the human norm. Once you understand that, you stop struggling against it.

The theme of the Ne Zha films is rebellion against fate. Some people believe that no matter how hard you try, you can’t change fate. But I believe it can be changed—that’s why I chose animation, and why I’ve kept walking this path.

Ne Zha inevitably reflects parts of my own personality and thoughts. At the same time, he is more extreme, more flamboyant, more pure.

I’m grateful to have met Ne Zha. Over the years, I’ve grown more white hair, but I don’t care—everyone ages. What matters is that I’ve been able to keep doing what I love, and that’s a blessing. In animation, the pursuit must always be growth and breakthrough. I believe that’s the meaning of my life.