Chapter 241: Heavy Artillery Attack

Still, despite what was said, Wei Dongling opted for Xiao Ran’s first method. At that time, Li Jiaxin was filming in the UK, and this guy went crazy spending money—proposing marriage in all the UK’s newspapers, magazines, and even on television. The news spread to Asia, causing a huge stir. Everyone praised the Shadow Group for being insane, choosing such extreme methods for proposals.
What happened? When Li Jiaxin saw Wei Dongling kneeling on one knee with a ring, proposing on television, she was stunned. After checking Chinese-language newspapers, she learned that Wei Dongling had already arrived in the UK. Of course, she rushed there according to the timing reported in the media. With a crowd of reporters present, Wei Dongling proposed to her in front of everyone—and of course, succeeded.
Later, Xiao Ran harshly criticized Wei Dongling’s reckless behavior. Wei Dongling replied with a sly smile, “Don’t forget, this is a tactic you taught me!” Xiao Ran was left speechless.
Of course, that was after the next day. Right now, Xiao Ran was still discussing with Wei Dongling how to deal with this situation. Wei Dongling put aside his playful demeanor and mused, “Should we sabotage them so they can’t succeed, just like we did before?”
Lin Qingxia was shocked—Wei Dongling was really bold enough to do such a thing! Xiao Ran smiled faintly. Defying the government was seeking death. If the Hong Kong-British government hadn’t been about to end soon, he might not have dared challenge Britain and Patten.
In fact, in the past, they had sabotaged those who dared challenge the Shadow Group because those people only caused chaos. But this person couldn’t disrupt Hong Kong’s film industry at all, so there was no need. Without hesitation, he replied, “No need. On the contrary, aside from actors, if they want people, we’ll provide them; if they want equipment, we’ll give it. Let reality show that without Hong Kong’s film industry, mainland movies can’t succeed.”
If they couldn’t succeed, then they would have to compromise or give up the idea of making movies altogether. Lin Qingxia understood this well. Wei Dongling clicked his tongue again and glanced at Xiao Ran, “I knew you were cunning, but I didn’t expect it to be this extreme. But what if they really succeed?”
Xiao Ran sneered. Feeling his arm go numb from holding Xiao Ling’er, he quietly handed her to Lin Qingxia, signaling her to take the child to rest. Then he stood up and moved his meridians, saying, “Occasional success is possible, but achieving success in everything is absolutely impossible. Even if they succeed in everything, they’ll eventually fall into a vicious cycle of monotonous themes!”
Wei Dongling nodded. Seeing Xiao Ran sit by the swimming pool, kicking water with his feet and tapping his thighs gently, he said, “I think we need to prepare for the worst. Let’s ignore the mainland market for now. With the current investment, the losses won’t be too great.”

“Well, if we want to compete with Hollywood, we need to invest equally in digital technologies. So when salaries of ten to twenty million become common, coupled with protection policies abroad, it’s very likely that 50% to 70% of films will lose money!” Wei Dongling quickly picked up on Xiao Ran’s words and added, “Of course, this is assuming film production remains at its current level!”
“Excluding low-budget independent films, local films need to produce at least 100 movies to meet both domestic and overseas markets, with large-scale productions accounting for at least 25% of them!” Xiao Ran, acting as if he were an ancient scholar, said leisurely. “The rest are medium and small-scale productions. I’m worried that medium-scale productions won’t be popular and will gradually disappear. If everyone focuses on large-scale productions while reducing others, it will only increase risks!”
What Xiao Ran mentioned was actually the dire situation of Hong Kong films in the 21st century—the desolate state of them was deeply etched in his memory. He knew well that in terms of quality and production costs, films form a pyramid: large-scale productions are at the top, followed by medium-scale ones, and finally independent productions.
The term “independent production” is very difficult to define. In Xiao Ran’s view, independent productions are those films that operate on the fringes of mainstream cinema. Perhaps works from small production companies outside the four major studios and Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer shouldn’t be considered independent either.
Independent films are those that easily win awards, usually with intense, edgy, and artistic themes. Not all independent productions are low-budget, though that’s often the case. For example, “The Lord of the Rings” was a product of an independent production company, but who would say it wasn’t a large-scale production?
“First, we need to maintain production of films in other languages. With our distribution capabilities, we can definitely make a profit from this to offset other losses!” Xiao Ran smiled faintly. Using profits to cover losses is common. Don’t think Hollywood looks great—in reality, as investments grow and salaries rise, losses also increase. Usually, profits are used to fill those gaps.
“As for the second point, I think it’s time to launch a plan to acquire Hollywood companies!” Wei Dongling immediately chimed in, gazing at the stars and feeling a sense of uncertainty. He and Xiao Ran had discussed it and agreed that they could acquire a Hollywood production company this year, and two years later, it would be easy to acquire a distribution company as well.
However, judging from the current situation, the plan might not go smoothly. Neither he nor Xiao Ran was sure whether this move would be good or bad. But they were certain of one thing: acquiring a Hollywood company would definitely put pressure on the mainland. If Shadow shifted its film business to Hollywood, it would definitely not be a good thing.
“Never mind. It’s better to negotiate this deal with Sony. So far, they’ve lost nearly three billion dollars on Columbia!” Xiao Ran narrowed his eyes and recalled. If he remembered correctly, the two fools who caused Sony to suffer its biggest loss with Japanese capital in the U.S. would be fired by the end of the year. It was still possible to act now.

“Sony probably isn’t willing to sell…” Wei Dongling thought for a moment before quickly giving Xiao Ran an answer: “Right now, Sony is trying to build an entertainment empire, so it’s unlikely they’ll give up Columbia.”
Xiao Ran snorted lightly, bent down to touch the water, then looked up at the night sky. “Well, it depends on the negotiators’ skills. Akio Morita is a stubborn old man who always believes his strategy is correct. As long as the negotiators can make him realize that keeping Sony is a mistake, things shouldn’t be too hard. We need to act fast—otherwise, by the end of the year, someone else might take over from that old guy!”
Wei Dongling quickly formed a plan in his mind and even picked suitable candidates for the negotiations. However, he thought we shouldn’t focus solely on Columbia; other companies could also be considered. “Maybe Universal and Paramount are good targets. Since Panasonic acquired Universal in 1991, it hasn’t made a single penny from it. As long as we ask, they’re likely to be willing to sell it to us. Paramount is a bit more complicated, as Viacom is also preparing to negotiate an acquisition!”
Universal? Its logo is a glowing Earth, while Paramount’s logo features a snow-capped mountain surrounded by a pentagram. After pondering for a while, Xiao Ran replied with a light laugh, “Okay, but the chances for Paramount are slim. We should focus mainly on Universal and Columbia. The former has theme park operations, which is exactly what we want to expand.”
In the following days, some exchange students who happened to be free reported their tasks and returned to the mainland. Most, however, stayed in Hong Kong.
On Wednesday, July 16th, there was a preview screening of “Jurassic Park.” Xiao Ran was determined to make use of this advantage. In Hong Kong, no criminal gang would dare to steal the footage—doing so would be suicide.
“Jurassic Park” was a powerful blow to mainland cinema. With this film, Xiao Ran wanted to prove that without Hong Kong’s film industry, mainland cinema could never achieve such effects on its own.
In fact, Xiao Ran had always dismissed media claims that certain films used the special effects teams or personnel from “The Lord of the Rings.” Those media people simply didn’t understand that different prices meant different quality. Spending 30 million on top-notch special effects would definitely yield a different result than spending 10 million. Moreover, special effects aren’t done by just one person but by an entire team—a team so huge it’s beyond our imagination.
Before “Jurassic Park” was officially released, there were still a few advertisements, including two tech-related ones. After that, a trailer was shown. Thanks to Xiao Ran’s efforts, Hong Kong’s film industry began to pay more attention to trailers.
Xiao Ran wasn’t stupid enough to just splice together a few clips and scenes from the film as a trailer, like CCTV did. He always preferred to create trailers carefully, with the director personally involved and professional trailer makers handling the editing.

This trailer is for “Tornado,” a 30-second preview. It begins with a plain landscape featuring many houses and people, accompanied by the caption: “What is the most terrifying thing at such a time?” The scene quickly changes to the same picturesque plain, but now it’s deserted, with houses seemingly destroyed—collapsed and in disarray, creating a frightening sight. Interestingly, the sound of wind can be heard faintly in the theater, hinting at “Tornado.” The caption appears again: “This is the most terrifying thing!” followed by the film’s title. When the movie actually starts, there’s no mention of Leung Jun’s name. This is an unwritten rule; generally, it depends on the filmmaker’s awareness. Directors with box-office appeal or award-winning talent might include such a mention, though some bold ones do, often facing disdain from peers—resulting in serious consequences. Thus, very few dare to include such personal branding like Xiao Ran does. It symbolizes status and influence—Xu Keke, Wu Yusen, and Chen Kexin, who successfully directed “As Tears Go By” and “A City of Two Cities,” could do it too. Actors like Cheng Long, who can ignore the director and put their own brand forward, are extremely rare—even Asia’s top male star nowadays wouldn’t dare. After Cheng Long joined Miramax, he had to comply with the director-first rule and remove such branding. Cheng Long had good reasons for doing this, which makes perfect sense. As is well known, in Hong Kong’s history, popular actors sometimes had more power than directors, and Cheng Long was among the most famous. His strong personal style made it difficult for directors to impose their own vision, so labeling his films as “Cheng Long’s works” is entirely justified. As a director, Xiao Ran definitely dislikes such actors. A director’s choices depend on the film and theme—for example, in “A Lonely Man and a Lonely Woman,” a comedy, Andrew Lau chose Liu Hua, while for films with a strong personal style like “Gunfire” and “PTU,” he adjusted his choices according to the film’s tone. In “Gunfire,” an expressive performance like Wu Zhenyu’s was ideal, as the film relied on both the actor and director. But for a highly director-driven film like “PTU,” Andrew Lau would never choose an uncontrollable actor like Liu Qingyun, as the actor is merely a tool in such cases—tools shouldn’t have their own ideas. This explains why the actors in “Gunfire” performed better than those in “PTU.” Still, Xiao Ran doesn’t appreciate Andrew Lau’s tendency to treat actors as tools in his personally styled films. It’s well known that a good actor can save a movie. Though he truly admires Andrew Lau’s ability to train actors—helping Liu Hua win two Best Actor awards and improving Zheng Xiwen’s acting skills enough for her to be nominated three times for Best Actress in films like “Fortune Dragon”—he still disapproves of this approach.

The ability to make actors like Huang Zhuoling, Meng Jiahui, Lin Xue, Xu Shaoxiong, and even other supporting characters shine brilliantly is something Xiao Ran should definitely learn from. At least Xiao Ran has always believed that among directors, Ah Du is surely one of those who best know how to teach actors. It’s no exaggeration to say that the appeal of Galaxy Image’s films lies largely in their outstanding acting.

The film begins without the lengthy openings typical of Hollywood movies; the hallmark of Hong Kong films is their ability to quickly immerse the audience in intense excitement. Initially, Leung Jun considered using a flashback to explain things, but after Xiao Ran reminded him that there would be at least two sequels, he abandoned that idea and opted for a straightforward narrative approach.

Fortunately, audiences had already seen some designs of the dinosaurs through TV or magazines, so they could wait patiently for the surprises. As the director’s name disappeared and the film title appeared, it gradually shrank, as if the camera were rapidly rewinding.

Almost instantly, as if from the rewinding camera, several sharp teeth appeared, followed by the ugly, gaping maw of a dinosaur. This scene, clearly meant as a “surprise,” shocked the audience, and screams immediately erupted. Soon, the screaming girl became embarrassed when she realized everyone around her was staring at her.

Xiao Ran smiled slightly. It was then he realized his influence was quite significant—of course, in terms of directing techniques. Chen Musheng was influenced by him, as was Leung Jun, who worked hard to create such an engaging opening.

This is a good thing; film techniques are always evolving. Just like when we watch movies from before the Hong Kong New Wave, we often find them stiff, because directors back then favored long shots and static shots.

Films after the New Wave were completely different, offering a much more dynamic feel. The rapid advancement of editing techniques allowed directors to use shorter shots—just a few hundredths of a second—to construct the desired visuals, creating a highly flexible style.

Xiao Ran still believes that in terms of technique and innovation, Hong Kong films from 1987 to 1997 were the most flexible and creative. Although after 1997, Ah Du and Galaxy Image introduced more personalized approaches to film techniques, those were exceptions. Most films from the previous decade were filled with genius and a sense of freedom in their execution.

Speaking of long shots, Xiao Ran couldn’t help but smile. He plans to use many long shots in his new film. In fact, industry insiders know that, especially as shots become shorter and shorter, long shots become extremely risky.

Directors usually hesitate to try such daring techniques. Take a simple example: if a person is on the phone and the camera stays fixed on them the whole time, it will be unbearable for the audience. If other scenes are interspersed, it helps to adjust the atmosphere and create tension.

Western filmmakers, especially those in Europe, use long takes in very interesting ways, with many going to extremes—there are even entire films shot in a single take. Of course, Xiao Ran wouldn’t be that silly. In his opinion, the most successful use of a long take in a Hong Kong action film was the gunfight in the teahouse in “Hard Boiled”. In that scene, Aaron Kwok jumped, climbed onto a table, then rolled down and shot the assassin to death. That sequence, less than ten seconds long, was already a long take, which gives an idea of how many cuts are needed in a film. “The Big Event” is another famous example of the use of long takes; its first seven minutes are shot in a single take. It’s hard to say whether Eason Chan did that for publicity purposes, but Xiao Ran is sure it wasn’t easy to shoot—coordinating all the actors and equipment on set required many rehearsals, with not a single cut allowed. It’s a pity that that attempt ultimately wasn’t very successful.