Chapter 222: The Legend of the Racing God

This time, Bai Wenjing also assigned capable assistants to handle the film’s marketing. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to take care of it personally, but he had many other tasks that left him with little time to focus on it. In mid-October, the production team was gathered together to discuss the creative concepts with the director.

The first installment of *The Legend of the Racing God* is set in Hong Kong, while the second is set in Europe, where there is more room for development. Therefore, in some aspects, the film had to take into account the preferences of Western audiences.

Since Xiao Ran was planning to produce this film, he had already thought it through. In the meeting room of Meiyin Imaging, Xiao Ran organized his thoughts before looking around. Many people were present, all heads of various departments in the crew.

Ye Jintian, the art and costume designer, was an extraordinary individual. He had served as the art director for *Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon* and won an Oscar. He was skilled in dance, drama, opera, and more, with his works gaining recognition worldwide. His sense of style for costumes was exceptional. He had also worked as the executive art director for films like *Hero*, though Xiao Ran hadn’t paid much attention to that at the time.

In fact, Hong Kong also had two top-notch art directors: Zhang Shuping and Xi Zhongwen. The former was truly outstanding, and Xiao Ran fully believed Zhang Shuping could excel. The latter, however, was not as skilled in intense action scenes and was more proficient in emotional scenes.

Ye Jintian was different. First, he was young enough for Xiao Ran to mentor him. Xiao Ran believed that such talented individuals didn’t need to be taught step by step but rather just given concepts to figure things out on their own. He excelled at creating stunning visuals and had a keen sense of color, offering a neutral and gentle beauty.

For the cinematography, Xiao Ran abandoned his previous team, dropping Huang Yongheng in favor of a young photographer from the mainland named Jiang Lan, who would serve as the cinematographer. Jiang Lan’s skills were far from weak; he could even be considered one of the best photographers among those sent from the mainland. His strength lay in capturing motion.

As for the composer, Xiao Ran faced a dilemma—Hong Kong truly lacked truly outstanding composers. He had initially planned to bring back Lin Daoyun, who was already a top composer in Hong Kong, but Huang Zhan quickly recommended someone else—Lei Songde!

Thanks to Huang Zhan’s reminder, Xiao Ran remembered him. This young man was no ordinary person. He had a close friendship with Uncle Zhan and would later become the behind-the-scenes producer for famous singers like Leslie Cheung and Anita Mui. He was also one of Hong Kong’s most renowned musicians in the future. Lei Songde wasn’t very tall, but not short either; he was rather thin, giving him a younger appearance.

The editor was undoubtedly the most crucial role, yet once again, Xiao Ran chose not to use Zhang Yaozong, with whom he had a good working relationship. Still, this posed a significant challenge for Xiao Ran, as there were only a few skilled editors in Hong Kong. Although Mai Zishan would become a highly famous editor in the future, Xiao Ran didn’t want to use him for now.

In the end, Liu Chun recommended a young editor. Taking a glance at him, Xiao Ran felt somewhat strange. He had originally intended to rely on trends to succeed, but unexpectedly, almost everyone here was young. It seemed he would have to use his own fame to promote newcomers this time! Xiao Ran reflected on this as he glanced at the crowd waiting for him to speak, then clearly explained his creative intentions: “This is a racing movie with a very simple theme—passion and struggle. Xiao Ye, I want this film to convey a sense of harmonious beauty, in contrast to the intensity of racing, and the colors should be brighter. Since this is a film aimed mainly at young people, the costumes and styling can be more avant-garde. Do you have any questions?”
“That doesn’t seem quite right…” Ye Jintian, chosen by Xiao Ran, was very grateful for this opportunity to try. However, he wasn’t entirely in agreement with Xiao Ran’s idea: “If the theme is struggle, perhaps it would be better to use colors that convey a stronger sense of power. As for costumes, there’s no problem—I’m good at that.”
Xiao Ran had considered Ye Jintian’s concern, but he wanted the film to have a romantic touch, which meant the colors had to be brighter. Regarding the shooting schedule, he thought about the fact that it was autumn, with leaves falling, to symbolize the protagonist’s dull and lifeless life. These scenes would be filmed before spring arrived, and the sudden appearance of spring greenery would symbolize the birth of a legend.
So, he couldn’t help but smile lightly: “Xiao Ye, have you forgotten? It’s autumn now, and autumn is a season full of strength.” Ye Jintian immediately understood, and this allowed for some coordination between the two elements.
“Jiang Lan, for cinematography, I don’t want anything vague or slow. I need you to capture the limits of speed, the moments of motion.” Xiao Ran smiled casually and joked, “Of course, don’t forget to capture the desolation and solemnity of autumn! Gather the team you need—it’s best to do it now, and you need to develop your own style.”
Since he wasn’t very familiar with Jiang Lan, Jiang Lan didn’t dare to be rude to his boss. Seeing Xiao Ran joking, he was convinced that his boss was as approachable as the rumors said. He immediately laughed and said, “I think that should be no problem!”
Turning his gaze to the energetic Lei Songde, Xiao Ran smiled continuously: “Ade, Uncle Zhan said you’re very skilled. Let’s see what you can do this time. Music is very important; I’ll communicate more with you later!”
Glancing at the indifferent editor, Xiao Ran smiled calmly. There would be plenty of time to communicate later, so there was no need to rush. Then he turned to the stunt team and said with a smile, “Your help will definitely be needed this time. Do your best!”
Turning to the sound effects team, Xiao Ran’s instructions were simple: “Find out the sounds each different car model makes under various conditions. I want every sound to be unique in post-production.”

After about ten days of exploration and communication, all departments had gradually figured things out, and the preliminary preparations were basically complete. What troubled Xiao Ran greatly was that they had to prepare several cars just for filming this movie—after all, those were expensive vehicles. With the help of the marketing department, the media quickly focused on Xiao Ran’s new project. On the day of filming, even a dozen journalists from various publications showed up. In short, news and behind-the-scenes footage of this movie would be continuously provided to the media, who would indirectly serve as promoters—exactly what Xiao Ran wanted. When the producers approached potential sponsors to discuss cooperation, Wei Dongling immediately refused, as he had already agreed with Xiao Ran that the film would be managed by the latter, an expert in the field. Xiao Ran had no choice but to negotiate with the sponsors himself. However, these sponsors were quite influential—Mitsubishi from Japan and Volkswagen from Germany. Xiao Ran couldn’t understand how the producers had managed to secure such sponsors. Back when he was making “Spy Change,” Yu Jiayu tried to secure sponsors but was ignored. Yet now, just as he started his new project, these two major companies approached him right away. Mitsubishi’s willingness to cooperate was within Xiao Ran’s expectations, as the company had reaped many benefits from its long-term partnership with Golden Harvest. In fact, Japanese capital had always flowed into Hong Kong’s film industry; companies like Deppa had borrowed funds or sought sponsorship from Japanese firms. It’s no exaggeration to say that Japanese capital and sponsorship played a significant role in Hong Kong films. However, after Mirage acquired Golden Harvest and later split it off to sell to Lei Kaitai, the cooperation contracts became invalid. This wasn’t the first time Mitsubishi had wanted to collaborate with Mirage—it had offered cooperation three years earlier—but Xiao Ran was confident he didn’t need financing. Of course, he wouldn’t object to sponsorship. Back then, there wasn’t much choice, but now was different. Mitsubishi was taking this opportunity to propose a long-term partnership, while Volkswagen also seemed interested but still hadn’t considered a long-term deal. Having to choose between the two posed a difficult dilemma for Xiao Ran. Mitsubishi’s terms were excellent—essentially offering money and cars to Mirage. Volkswagen, on the other hand, was more arrogant and only planned to provide car sponsorship. Of course, they were competing for the lead actor’s vehicle. But it didn’t really matter; both companies would find it hard to accept being relegated to supporting roles. Xiao Ran wouldn’t dismiss Mitsubishi just because it made Japanese cars—although he also disliked Japan, business needed to be treated as business. Moreover, as Xiao Ran predicted, Japan and Germany would likely end up footing the bill for Mirage’s films in the future. There’s no need to elaborate on the relationship between Japanese capital and Hong Kong films—after all, in the 21st century, some low-budget Hong Kong films aren’t even released in Hong Kong but in Japan or distributed there. These films are mostly funded by Japanese investors, thanks to Japan’s large fan base for Hong Kong movies. And this was even before the decline of Hong Kong films; in today’s golden age of Hong Kong cinema, the situation is even more evident.

To promote the development of its film industry, Germany has implemented a tax rule allowing profits from film investments to be tax-free. This essentially constitutes legal tax evasion, given that Germany’s highest tax rate is 49%, meaning 49% tax must be paid on every 100 units of income. If this money is invested in films, any profits generated remain one’s own.

This policy isn’t unique to Germany; many European countries have similar measures to encourage film investment. However, other countries usually require that films be shot within their own countries to boost economic development. Only Germany is so selfless, seeking no return.

Don’t underestimate German capital. Between the 1990s and the early 2000s, Germany invested over $6 billion in Hollywood, with a total investment of over $10 billion. Yet Germans rarely manage to make money in Hollywood—films like Stallone’s “Lethal Weapon” and John Woo’s “Earth Battle” were losses, funded “generously” by Hollywood.

That said, there are exceptions where profits were made. For instance, “Fast & Furious” was primarily funded by Germany and became a box-office success, earning Germans a fortune. This angered Hollywood film executives, who vowed not to leave any profit opportunities for Germans. Films like “Mission: Impossible” and “Terminator 3” also involved German investment.

Thus, it’s easy to understand Xiao Ran’s dilemma—he plans to attract German investment in the future. After a brief hesitation, he decided not to compromise with the Germans. Offering only car sponsorship would be too demeaning.

Once the decision was made, Xiao Ran assigned the producers to handle the Germans while he met with the Japanese in his office. There was little to discuss with the Japanese—Xiao Ran firmly rejected their request for long-term cooperation and their offer of financing. After all, Phantom had plenty of money and didn’t need Japanese investment.

Xiao Ran was well aware of his own situation. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to use external funds to share risks; rather, Hong Kong films still had significant profit margins. Sharing profits with the Japanese would be unacceptable to him.

Anyway, Mitsubishi sponsored the cars in the film and provided a grant of $4 million. Of course, this wasn’t financing but merely a sponsorship with no share in profits. The Germans returned home frustrated, as they were willing to provide cars but not money.

Don’t think every one can secure sponsorship. With the cast and crew of “Legend of the Car God,” at best, they could get some support from Phantom’s other long-term sponsors. But thanks to director Xiao Ran’s reputation, the producers could secure substantial sponsorship simply by listing him as director or producer.

Sponsors aren’t fools either; they decide based on whether a project has sufficient influence. A talent as famous across Asia as Xiao Ran certainly finds it easy to get sponsorship. In fact, people even believe that any project produced by Xiao Ran is definitely worth it. After all, over the years, he has mainly acted as a producer for films he deems good, and his reputation spreads easily.
Adding together the sponsorship fees and advertising costs, these two alone amount to twenty million. Sometimes making a movie is really that simple, especially for famous people—we really can’t deny that.