Created on

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19

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2026

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23

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16

Updated on

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29

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2026

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27

Location

Oakland, CA

Communication Studies (iv): "Gossip"

传播学(iv): 非正式舆论系统

写在前面:接上篇,本文和chatgpt合作完成。


“非正式舆论系统”并不是一个标准化的制度术语,而是一种在现实社会中反复出现的传播结构:一种不经过媒体、制度或公开话语场的意见生成与分配机制。它不依赖权威来源,不以事实一致性为目标,也不承担明确的纠错责任,却能够在相当长的时间内,持续、稳定地影响个体判断与群体走向。

这一系统的运作基础,并非信息的真实性,而是人际信任与社会位置。意见沿着熟人关系、情绪共鸣和身份认同流动;谁被相信,更多取决于“你是谁”“你和我处在什么关系中”,而不是“你说得对不对”。因此,它在结构上高度去中心化,却在效果上往往呈现出集中趋势:少数被视为“更接近真相”“更靠近核心”“更值得信任”的节点,会对整体叙事产生不成比例的放大作用。

在这一系统中,信息的价值不主要来自内容本身,而来自它在关系网络中的位置。一次转述,往往意味着立场的隐性声明;一次附和,是阵营的确认;而一次刻意的沉默,也可能构成结构性的表态。Gossip 之所以成为这一系统中最常见、也最有效的载体,正是因为它模糊、私密、可变形,既容易被不断转述,又几乎不留下可追责的痕迹。

从传播与社会心理的角度看,非正式舆论系统通常在几类情境中显著活跃:当既有权威失效、当社会秩序发生松动,或当个体位置已经发生上移,却尚未被正式结构承认。它并非异常状态,而更像权力与判断真空期的一种常态反应。正式舆论往往试图回答“我们应该如何理解这件事”,而非正式舆论更常被用来解决另一个问题:在不确定的局势中,“我应该站在哪一边”。

这几种情境,本质上指向同一件事:原有的判断坐标已经失灵,而新的坐标尚未建立。非正式舆论系统,正是在这一空档期被激活的。

当权威失效时,人们并不会停止判断,只是失去了统一的参照物。判断权会被迅速下放到最容易获取的层级——身边的人。谁“看起来更懂”、谁“好像知道点内幕”、谁“和关键人物有联系”,就会暂时替代原有权威的位置。在这种情况下,信息是否准确并非首要问题,它是否能填补不确定性才是。Gossip 往往在此时作为一种临时解释系统出现,为个体提供一种“至少我知道发生了什么”的心理稳定感。

当秩序动摇时,焦虑的来源并非规则是否存在,而是位置是否还稳定。当资源、机会、话语权或关系结构开始流动,原本清晰的上下游、内外圈变得模糊,人最恐惧的并不是失败,而是不知道自己此刻算什么。非正式舆论系统在这里发挥的作用,是快速为人重新贴标:谁在上升,谁在下沉,谁“出了问题”,谁“已经不行了”。这些判断不需要证据,只需要被反复讲述,就足以在群体中生效。

而张力最大、也最容易被忽视的情境,是个体位置已经发生上移,却尚未被结构承认。当一个人的能力、独立性或影响力出现跃迁,但仍被困在旧标签中时,他本身就构成了对既有排序的威胁。此时,非正式舆论系统往往会以 gossip 的形式启动“修正”:不是正面否定其能力,而是侧面污染其动机、人格、情绪稳定性或关系边界,把“位置上移”重新叙述为“问题个体”。这并非偶发的恶意,而是一种典型的结构性反弹。

综合来看,一个冷酷但清晰的规律逐渐显现:非正式舆论系统并不以传播事实为目的,而是在修补结构。当权威失效,它提供替代解释;当秩序动摇,它提供临时排序;当个体上移,它提供阻尼机制。它关心的不是“真相是什么”,而是“结构还能不能继续运转”。

这一逻辑,与 Edward Bernays 关于公众判断可被社会线索、情绪叙事与组织化传播持续塑形的观点高度一致。区别只在于,Bernays 讨论的是宏观层面的政治与公共关系操作,而这里描述的,是这一机制在人际尺度上的自发运行形态。

从这个角度看,非正式舆论系统并非失控的副产物,而更像系统在彻底失控前的一种自救机制。它之所以显得丑陋、扭曲、甚至伤人,是因为它承担了本应由正式结构承担、却无人再能承担的功能。Gossip 也因此不只是“八卦”,而是一种低成本、高穿透率、去中心化的非正式权力技术。

Gossip 的首要目的,并非传递信息,而是重组关系结构。通过谈论第三方,传播者往往在无形中完成三件事:测试立场、制造共同秘密、以及将一个复杂的人压缩为可流通的标签。许多 gossip 并不在乎真假,它们在乎的是,是否成功把某个人推出“我们”的边界,或固定在一个可控的位置上。

在传播方式上,gossip 几乎总以“私人”“关心”“不得不说”为掩护,沿着信任链条跳跃式扩散。每一次转述,都会根据接收者的心理预期被微调。正因为缺乏明确源头,责任被不断稀释,最终形成一种“大家都这么说”的假性共识。

其长期后果,远不止名誉受损。现实判断会被持续污染,个体被拖入难以脱身的自证陷阱,群体信任被慢性侵蚀,而权力结构反而在这种看似反权威的机制中被畸形固化。最擅长操纵 gossip 的人获得话语优势,而真正不参与这一系统的人,反而更容易被边缘化。

因此,gossip 并不是一个道德问题,而是一种治理失败的症状。它出现的地方,往往意味着正式判断、正式权责和正式沟通机制,已经无法跟上现实变化。

它无法被彻底消灭,但可以被削弱。真正有效的路径,并不在于劝人“别说”,而在于重建判断权的来源:让事实、流程、边界重新变得清晰、稳定、可预期;让争议回到可验证、可追责的正式场域;让结构对变化给出明确回应,而不是长期悬置。当判断重新有了着陆点,非正式舆论自然会退化为噪音。不是因为人突然变得理性,而是因为继续传播,已经不再产生结构收益。

Preface: Following the previous article, this piece was completed in collaboration with ChatGPT.


On Informal Opinion Systems and Gossip as a Structural Mechanism

An “informal opinion system” is not a standardized institutional term, but a recurring structure observable in real societies: a mechanism for generating and distributing judgments that does not pass through media institutions, formal authority, or public deliberative arenas. It does not rely on authoritative sources, does not aim for factual consistency, and does not assume responsibility for correction—yet it can exert sustained and stable influence on individual judgment and collective direction over long periods of time.

The operating basis of this system is not informational accuracy, but interpersonal trust and social positioning. Opinions travel along lines of familiarity, emotional resonance, and identity alignment. Who is believed depends less on whether what they say is correct than on who they are and how they are positioned in relation to the listener. Structurally, this system is highly decentralized; functionally, however, its effects are often concentrated, with a small number of perceived “insiders,” “connectors,” or “knowers” exerting disproportionate influence over narrative direction.

Within such a system, the value of information lies less in its content than in its position within the relational network. Repeating a claim is often an implicit declaration of stance; agreeing is a confirmation of alignment; even silence can function as a structural signal. Gossip becomes the most common and effective carrier of this system precisely because it is ambiguous, private, and malleable—easy to transmit, difficult to trace, and largely immune to accountability.

From a communication and social-psychological perspective, informal opinion systems tend to intensify under several recurring conditions: when established authority loses credibility; when social order becomes unstable; or when individuals experience upward positional movement that has not yet been formally recognized. These conditions are not anomalies but characteristic responses to periods of judgment vacuum. Formal discourse tends to address what people should think; informal discourse addresses a different, more urgent question—where one should stand.

At their core, these conditions point to the same structural problem: existing reference points for judgment have failed, while new ones have not yet solidified. Informal opinion systems emerge precisely in this interstitial space.

When authority collapses, people do not stop judging—they simply lose a shared coordinate system. Judgment authority is rapidly devolved to the most accessible level: one’s immediate social environment. Whoever appears better informed, closer to the center, or connected to “those who know” temporarily occupies the role once held by institutional authority. In such moments, factual accuracy becomes secondary; what matters is whether an account alleviates uncertainty. Gossip functions here as a provisional explanatory system, offering psychological stabilization through the illusion of comprehension.

When order destabilizes, the anxiety is not about the absence of rules but about the instability of position. As resources, opportunities, status, and access begin to shift, previously clear hierarchies blur. The deepest fear is not failure, but indeterminacy—no longer knowing what one currently is. Informal opinion systems respond by rapidly re-labeling people: who is rising, who is falling, who is “problematic,” who is “finished.” These judgments require no evidence; repetition alone grants them force. Even if inaccurate, they restore a sense of orientation.

The most volatile—and most overlooked—scenario arises when an individual’s position has objectively advanced but remains structurally unacknowledged. At this point, the individual’s very existence destabilizes established ranking criteria. Informal opinion systems often intervene through gossip, not by contesting competence directly, but by contaminating motive, character, emotional stability, or relational boundaries. Upward movement is reframed as deviance. This is not random malice, but a predictable form of structural backlash.

Viewed together, a stark pattern emerges: informal opinion systems do not exist to transmit truth, but to repair structure. When authority fails, they supply substitute explanations; when order wavers, they impose provisional ranking; when individuals rise, they introduce damping mechanisms. Their concern is not truth, but whether the structure can continue to function.

This logic closely aligns with Edward Bernays’ insight that public judgment is shaped less by facts than by social cues, emotional framing, and perceived control. The difference lies in scale: Bernays examined macro-level political and public-relations manipulation; what is described here is the same mechanism operating spontaneously at the interpersonal level.

From this perspective, informal opinion systems are not byproducts of chaos but pre-collapse stabilization mechanisms. Their ugliness and harm stem from the fact that they assume functions that formal structures no longer perform. Gossip, therefore, is not merely “idle talk,” but a low-cost, high-penetration, decentralized technology of informal power.

The primary function of gossip is not information transfer, but relational restructuring. By discussing an absent third party, the speaker simultaneously tests alignment, forges shared secrecy, and compresses a complex individual into a portable label. Accuracy is often irrelevant; what matters is whether the target can be repositioned—pushed outside the “we,” or fixed in a controllable role.

Gossip typically travels disguised as concern, intimacy, or reluctant disclosure. It spreads along trust chains, mutating with each retelling to suit the receiver’s psychological expectations. Lacking a clear origin, responsibility diffuses, eventually solidifying into a false consensus: “everyone is saying it.”

The long-term consequences extend far beyond reputational harm. Judgment becomes systematically distorted; individuals are trapped in self-justification loops; group trust erodes gradually; and power structures paradoxically become more rigid, not less. Those most skilled at manipulating gossip accumulate influence, while those who refuse to participate are marginalized. This outcome is not accidental—it is structural.

Gossip, then, is not a moral failure but a symptom of governance failure. Where it flourishes, formal judgment, formal accountability, and formal communication have failed to keep pace with reality.

It cannot be eradicated, but it can be weakened. The effective response is not moral exhortation but the restoration of judgment authority. When facts, procedures, boundaries, and responsibilities are made clear, stable, and publicly verifiable, gossip loses its functional role. When disputes are forced back into accountable, formal arenas, informal warfare loses its fuel. When structural change is explicitly acknowledged or explicitly rejected, ambiguity—the breeding ground of gossip—collapses.

Once judgment regains a landing surface, informal opinion systems naturally degrade into background noise. Not because people become more rational, but because continued circulation no longer yields structural advantage.



Artist Statement

My work is not about explaining the world; it’s about dismantling the emotional structures that everyday life tries to conceal. What I focus on is not “story,” but the dynamics between people—the pull and tension of intimacy, the quiet control embedded in family, the fractures that come with migration, and how an individual maintains their boundaries within these systems.

I grew up between shifting cultures and languages, often in environments where I was expected—needed—claimed by others. I was asked to understand, to accommodate, to take care, to adjust. Even the gentlest relationships carried an undercurrent of consumption. That tension became the foundation of my creative work.

The characters in my stories are not moral types. They each carry a kind of private conflict: they want closeness but fear being swallowed; they long to be seen but can’t fully expose themselves; they are asked again and again to give—to family, to love, to work—without knowing how to keep space for themselves. These aren’t inventions; they’re reflections of lived experience. Writing, for me, is a way to unearth the emotions that have been suppressed, ignored, or normalized—and let them speak again.

I gravitate toward rhythmic narrative structures: compressed scenes, quick shifts, intentional gaps, silences between characters. These spaces reveal more truth than dialogue ever could. The themes I explore—migration, family, identity, trauma, intimacy, female autonomy—ultimately point to a single question: how does a person protect their boundaries in a world that constantly pulls at them, demands from them, watches them?

Creating is neither escape nor self-soothing. It is a way of reclaiming authorship over my own narrative. When I write a character’s silence, resistance, hesitation, or departure, I’m answering one essential question:

When the world insists on defining me, how do I choose to define myself?

艺术家陈述

我的创作不是为了解释世界,是为了拆开被日常掩盖的情绪结构。我关注的核心不是“故事”,而是人与人之间的力量关系——亲密带来的拉扯、家庭带来的隐性控制、身份在迁徙中的断裂,以及一个人在这些结构里如何保持自己的边界。

出生在不断变化的文化与语言之间,长期处在“被期待—被需要—被占用”的环境里。很多时候,我被要求理解别人、照顾别人、顺着环境。那些看似温和的关系里,也潜藏着吞噬性的需求。这种张力成了我创作的源头。

在我的故事里,人物不是善恶分明的类型。他们都带着某种困境:他们想靠近别人,但又害怕被吞没;他们渴望被看见,却无法完全暴露自己;他们在家庭、爱情、工作里不断被要求付出,却不知道怎样为自己保留空间。这并不是虚构,是现实经验的折射。我写作,把那些长期被压抑、被忽略、被习惯化的情感重新挖出来,让它们重新发声。

我倾向于使用节奏性的叙事结构:压缩的篇幅、快速切换的场景、留白的空间、人物之间的静默。这些“空隙”比对白本身更能暴露一个人的真实状态。我处理的主题是移民、家庭、身份、创伤、亲密、女性的自主性,但它们都指向同一件事:一个人如何在被拉扯、被要求、被凝视的世界里,维护自己的边界。

创作不是逃避,也不是自我疗愈,是重新夺回叙事权的方式。当我写下一个人物的沉默、反抗、犹豫或离开,我其实是在回答一个核心问题:
当世界不断定义我时,我选择如何定义自己?

Artist Statement

My work is not about explaining the world; it’s about dismantling the emotional structures that everyday life tries to conceal. What I focus on is not “story,” but the dynamics between people—the pull and tension of intimacy, the quiet control embedded in family, the fractures that come with migration, and how an individual maintains their boundaries within these systems.

I grew up between shifting cultures and languages, often in environments where I was expected—needed—claimed by others. I was asked to understand, to accommodate, to take care, to adjust. Even the gentlest relationships carried an undercurrent of consumption. That tension became the foundation of my creative work.

The characters in my stories are not moral types. They each carry a kind of private conflict: they want closeness but fear being swallowed; they long to be seen but can’t fully expose themselves; they are asked again and again to give—to family, to love, to work—without knowing how to keep space for themselves. These aren’t inventions; they’re reflections of lived experience. Writing, for me, is a way to unearth the emotions that have been suppressed, ignored, or normalized—and let them speak again.

I gravitate toward rhythmic narrative structures: compressed scenes, quick shifts, intentional gaps, silences between characters. These spaces reveal more truth than dialogue ever could. The themes I explore—migration, family, identity, trauma, intimacy, female autonomy—ultimately point to a single question: how does a person protect their boundaries in a world that constantly pulls at them, demands from them, watches them?

Creating is neither escape nor self-soothing. It is a way of reclaiming authorship over my own narrative. When I write a character’s silence, resistance, hesitation, or departure, I’m answering one essential question:

When the world insists on defining me, how do I choose to define myself?

艺术家陈述

我的创作不是为了解释世界,是为了拆开被日常掩盖的情绪结构。我关注的核心不是“故事”,而是人与人之间的力量关系——亲密带来的拉扯、家庭带来的隐性控制、身份在迁徙中的断裂,以及一个人在这些结构里如何保持自己的边界。

出生在不断变化的文化与语言之间,长期处在“被期待—被需要—被占用”的环境里。很多时候,我被要求理解别人、照顾别人、顺着环境。那些看似温和的关系里,也潜藏着吞噬性的需求。这种张力成了我创作的源头。

在我的故事里,人物不是善恶分明的类型。他们都带着某种困境:他们想靠近别人,但又害怕被吞没;他们渴望被看见,却无法完全暴露自己;他们在家庭、爱情、工作里不断被要求付出,却不知道怎样为自己保留空间。这并不是虚构,是现实经验的折射。我写作,把那些长期被压抑、被忽略、被习惯化的情感重新挖出来,让它们重新发声。

我倾向于使用节奏性的叙事结构:压缩的篇幅、快速切换的场景、留白的空间、人物之间的静默。这些“空隙”比对白本身更能暴露一个人的真实状态。我处理的主题是移民、家庭、身份、创伤、亲密、女性的自主性,但它们都指向同一件事:一个人如何在被拉扯、被要求、被凝视的世界里,维护自己的边界。

创作不是逃避,也不是自我疗愈,是重新夺回叙事权的方式。当我写下一个人物的沉默、反抗、犹豫或离开,我其实是在回答一个核心问题:
当世界不断定义我时,我选择如何定义自己?

Artist Statement

My work is not about explaining the world; it’s about dismantling the emotional structures that everyday life tries to conceal. What I focus on is not “story,” but the dynamics between people—the pull and tension of intimacy, the quiet control embedded in family, the fractures that come with migration, and how an individual maintains their boundaries within these systems.

I grew up between shifting cultures and languages, often in environments where I was expected—needed—claimed by others. I was asked to understand, to accommodate, to take care, to adjust. Even the gentlest relationships carried an undercurrent of consumption. That tension became the foundation of my creative work.

The characters in my stories are not moral types. They each carry a kind of private conflict: they want closeness but fear being swallowed; they long to be seen but can’t fully expose themselves; they are asked again and again to give—to family, to love, to work—without knowing how to keep space for themselves. These aren’t inventions; they’re reflections of lived experience. Writing, for me, is a way to unearth the emotions that have been suppressed, ignored, or normalized—and let them speak again.

I gravitate toward rhythmic narrative structures: compressed scenes, quick shifts, intentional gaps, silences between characters. These spaces reveal more truth than dialogue ever could. The themes I explore—migration, family, identity, trauma, intimacy, female autonomy—ultimately point to a single question: how does a person protect their boundaries in a world that constantly pulls at them, demands from them, watches them?

Creating is neither escape nor self-soothing. It is a way of reclaiming authorship over my own narrative. When I write a character’s silence, resistance, hesitation, or departure, I’m answering one essential question:

When the world insists on defining me, how do I choose to define myself?

艺术家陈述

我的创作不是为了解释世界,是为了拆开被日常掩盖的情绪结构。我关注的核心不是“故事”,而是人与人之间的力量关系——亲密带来的拉扯、家庭带来的隐性控制、身份在迁徙中的断裂,以及一个人在这些结构里如何保持自己的边界。

出生在不断变化的文化与语言之间,长期处在“被期待—被需要—被占用”的环境里。很多时候,我被要求理解别人、照顾别人、顺着环境。那些看似温和的关系里,也潜藏着吞噬性的需求。这种张力成了我创作的源头。

在我的故事里,人物不是善恶分明的类型。他们都带着某种困境:他们想靠近别人,但又害怕被吞没;他们渴望被看见,却无法完全暴露自己;他们在家庭、爱情、工作里不断被要求付出,却不知道怎样为自己保留空间。这并不是虚构,是现实经验的折射。我写作,把那些长期被压抑、被忽略、被习惯化的情感重新挖出来,让它们重新发声。

我倾向于使用节奏性的叙事结构:压缩的篇幅、快速切换的场景、留白的空间、人物之间的静默。这些“空隙”比对白本身更能暴露一个人的真实状态。我处理的主题是移民、家庭、身份、创伤、亲密、女性的自主性,但它们都指向同一件事:一个人如何在被拉扯、被要求、被凝视的世界里,维护自己的边界。

创作不是逃避,也不是自我疗愈,是重新夺回叙事权的方式。当我写下一个人物的沉默、反抗、犹豫或离开,我其实是在回答一个核心问题:
当世界不断定义我时,我选择如何定义自己?

sunny.xiaoxin.sun@doubletakefilmllc.com

Sunny Xiaoxin Sun's IMDb


©2025 Double Take Film, All rights reserved

I’m an independent creator born in 1993 in Changsha, now based in California. My writing started from an urgent need to express. Back in school, I often felt overwhelmed by the chaos and complexity of the world—by the emotions and stories left unsaid. Writing became my way of organizing my thoughts, finding clarity, and gradually, connecting with the outside world.


Right now, I’m focused on writing and filmmaking. My blog is a “real writing experiment,” where I try to update daily, documenting my thoughts, emotional shifts, observations on relationships, and my creative process. It’s also a record of my journey to becoming a director. After returning to China in 2016, I entered the film industry and worked in the visual effects production department on projects like Creation of the Gods I, Creation of the Gods II, and Wakanda Forever, with experience in both China and Hollywood. Since 2024, I’ve shifted my focus to original storytelling.


I’m currently revising my first script. It’s not grand in scale, but it’s deeply personal—centered on memory, my father, and the city. I want to make films that belong to me, and to our generation: grounded yet profound, sensitive but resolute. I believe film is not only a form of artistic expression—it’s a way to intervene in reality.

我是93年出生于长沙的自由创作者。我的写作起点来自一种“必须表达”的冲动。学生时代,我常感受到世界的混乱与复杂,那些没有被说出来的情绪和故事让我感到不安。写作是我自我整理、自我清晰的方式,也逐渐成为我与外界建立连接的路径。


我目前专注于写作和电影。我的博客是一个“真实写作实验”,尽量每天更新,记录我的思考、情绪流动、人际观察和创作过程。我16年回国之后开始进入电影行业,曾在视效部门以制片的身份参与制作《封神1》《封神2》《Wankanda Forever》等,在中国和好莱坞都工作过,24年之后开始转入创作。


我正在重新回去修改我第一个剧本——它并不宏大,却非常个人,围绕记忆、父亲与城市展开。我想拍属于我、也属于我们这一代人的电影:贴地而深刻,敏感又笃定。我相信电影不只是艺术表达,它也是一种现实干预。

sunny.xiaoxin.sun@doubletakefilmllc.com

Sunny Xiaoxin Sun's IMDb


©2025 Double Take Film, All rights reserved

I’m an independent creator born in 1993 in Changsha, now based in California. My writing started from an urgent need to express. Back in school, I often felt overwhelmed by the chaos and complexity of the world—by the emotions and stories left unsaid. Writing became my way of organizing my thoughts, finding clarity, and gradually, connecting with the outside world.


Right now, I’m focused on writing and filmmaking. My blog is a “real writing experiment,” where I try to update daily, documenting my thoughts, emotional shifts, observations on relationships, and my creative process. It’s also a record of my journey to becoming a director. After returning to China in 2016, I entered the film industry and worked in the visual effects production department on projects like Creation of the Gods I, Creation of the Gods II, and Wakanda Forever, with experience in both China and Hollywood. Since 2024, I’ve shifted my focus to original storytelling.


I’m currently revising my first script. It’s not grand in scale, but it’s deeply personal—centered on memory, my father, and the city. I want to make films that belong to me, and to our generation: grounded yet profound, sensitive but resolute. I believe film is not only a form of artistic expression—it’s a way to intervene in reality.

我是93年出生于长沙的自由创作者。我的写作起点来自一种“必须表达”的冲动。学生时代,我常感受到世界的混乱与复杂,那些没有被说出来的情绪和故事让我感到不安。写作是我自我整理、自我清晰的方式,也逐渐成为我与外界建立连接的路径。


我目前专注于写作和电影。我的博客是一个“真实写作实验”,尽量每天更新,记录我的思考、情绪流动、人际观察和创作过程。我16年回国之后开始进入电影行业,曾在视效部门以制片的身份参与制作《封神1》《封神2》《Wankanda Forever》等,在中国和好莱坞都工作过,24年之后开始转入创作。


我正在重新回去修改我第一个剧本——它并不宏大,却非常个人,围绕记忆、父亲与城市展开。我想拍属于我、也属于我们这一代人的电影:贴地而深刻,敏感又笃定。我相信电影不只是艺术表达,它也是一种现实干预。

sunny.xiaoxin.sun@doubletakefilmllc.com

Sunny Xiaoxin Sun's IMDb


©2025 Double Take Film, All rights reserved

I’m an independent creator born in 1993 in Changsha, now based in California. My writing started from an urgent need to express. Back in school, I often felt overwhelmed by the chaos and complexity of the world—by the emotions and stories left unsaid. Writing became my way of organizing my thoughts, finding clarity, and gradually, connecting with the outside world.


Right now, I’m focused on writing and filmmaking. My blog is a “real writing experiment,” where I try to update daily, documenting my thoughts, emotional shifts, observations on relationships, and my creative process. It’s also a record of my journey to becoming a director. After returning to China in 2016, I entered the film industry and worked in the visual effects production department on projects like Creation of the Gods I, Creation of the Gods II, and Wakanda Forever, with experience in both China and Hollywood. Since 2024, I’ve shifted my focus to original storytelling.


I’m currently revising my first script. It’s not grand in scale, but it’s deeply personal—centered on memory, my father, and the city. I want to make films that belong to me, and to our generation: grounded yet profound, sensitive but resolute. I believe film is not only a form of artistic expression—it’s a way to intervene in reality.

我是93年出生于长沙的自由创作者。我的写作起点来自一种“必须表达”的冲动。学生时代,我常感受到世界的混乱与复杂,那些没有被说出来的情绪和故事让我感到不安。写作是我自我整理、自我清晰的方式,也逐渐成为我与外界建立连接的路径。


我目前专注于写作和电影。我的博客是一个“真实写作实验”,尽量每天更新,记录我的思考、情绪流动、人际观察和创作过程。我16年回国之后开始进入电影行业,曾在视效部门以制片的身份参与制作《封神1》《封神2》《Wankanda Forever》等,在中国和好莱坞都工作过,24年之后开始转入创作。


我正在重新回去修改我第一个剧本——它并不宏大,却非常个人,围绕记忆、父亲与城市展开。我想拍属于我、也属于我们这一代人的电影:贴地而深刻,敏感又笃定。我相信电影不只是艺术表达,它也是一种现实干预。

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