Chapter 242: Jurassic Era

A blood-curdling scream shattered the silence of the theater. Its intensity and realism snapped Xiao Ran out of his thoughts, forcing him to stare intently at the screen. On screen, there were still no scenes of dinosaurs killing people—only the beginning of an attack.

The filming location was an island with an excellent environment. As the art director, Xiao Ran naturally instructed Liang Jun to maximize the grandeur of the visuals.

It was hard to say whether these special effects could compare to the original *Jurassic Park*, as both were deeply embedded in people’s memories. Yet Xiao Ran could tell they were extremely realistic. The makeup artists and special effects experts at Infinite Vision must have put in countless hours crafting the dinosaur skins, attaching them to skeletons made by top mechanics, and then controlling their movements remotely to achieve a perfect model.

During post-production, with the models in place, computer-generated effects could be adjusted more flexibly, resulting in ferocious dinosaurs with sharp teeth on screen. Hong Kong’s film industry lacks top-tier computer technicians but has a shortage of talent in modeling and makeup for special effects. Without such support, computer-generated effects often lack texture, appearing hollow and unrealistic—which is why special effects in Hong Kong films often seem odd.

In terms of technique, Liang Jun and Liu Mei’s collaboration was now very effective. Liu Mei had a talent for emotional depth, and a sense of exploration and reflection began the moment the dinosaurs attacked. Liang Jun was skilled in action sequences; perhaps masters share similar approaches—his style was similar to that of Lao Si, both using gradual buildup of fear, creating tension throughout, and reaching a climax toward the end to satisfy the audience.

The film was 120 minutes long, while typical Hong Kong films were only 90 minutes. A 90-minute film could include one extra scene, while a 120-minute film required more time, meaning more revenue—seemingly logical at first glance.

However, people often overlook that stories that originally needed two or three hours to tell are far more complete when presented in 90 minutes instead. Xiao Ran remembered that the 2005 version of *Triad* was classic at four hours, but the two-hour cut was much inferior.

Only engaging films would make people willing to return to the theater. This wasn’t Xiao Ran’s guess—it was the result of research by the planning department. Historically, Hong Kong films focused on the small local market, necessitating a rush to succeed, but that was no longer the case. 100-minute films were gradually becoming the norm.

Xiao Ran didn’t finish watching. He felt he didn’t need to continue—the audience’s continuous screams and palpable fear were enough proof of the film’s success. Leaving the theater, he felt somewhat troubled.

He is distressed that Hong Kong lacks directors skilled in horror and thriller genres, which prevents many creative ideas from being brought to life. Even if he were to direct such films himself, he isn’t sure he could do it. It’s a pity that Zheng Baorui, who has great potential in horror and thriller genres, has yet to make his debut; even if he does, he would need experience.

This isn’t the first time he’s considered this issue. The current lack of directors specializing in horror and thriller genres isn’t the most critical problem—what’s more important is the shortage of directors skilled in large-scale productions, epic themes, as well as science fiction and war films.

It is precisely because he realizes this that he feels frustrated. Directors seem reluctant to tackle horror themes. Xu Anhua’s “Hit by Luck” is a classic ghost story film, but it wasn’t until the end of the 20th century that she directed and produced “Ghost Story,” after “See Ghost” became popular.

Horror and ghost stories in Hong Kong films are often turned into lighthearted comedies, which is also one of the problems with Hong Kong cinema. Firstly, Hong Kong filmmakers have highly imaginative minds; secondly, the genres available are too limited—other than these, they have little choice.

A famous director once said that there are no purely defined genres in Hong Kong. Comedies contain romance, and romance can include science fiction—this kind of free creative approach is indeed something Xiao Ran likes. However, as he became more successful, he realized that having clearly defined genres is essential.

For lighthearted comedies, directors and screenwriters can do whatever they want. But for other genres, purity is necessary. Fortunately, Xiao Ran’s approach from the start aligned with the idea of purifying genres, gradually guiding Hong Kong cinema in the right direction. Yet filmmakers still prefer certain genres because, due to regional constraints, it’s difficult for them to handle others.

Xiao Ran hasn’t tried horror genres, but he’s interested in trying war and science fiction. For large-scale productions like these, Hong Kong has managed to succeed with fewer than three such films. Xiao Ran can be considered the pioneer of large-scale productions in Hong Kong cinema. Even after significant advancements in special effects, “Spy Change” still surpassed “Mechanical Warrior” to become the most ambitious action film in Hong Kong history—a title it truly deserves.

As Li Zhuotao analyzed Xiao Ran’s directing skills, it seems that his strongest area is action genres. Besides smooth pacing and overall control, his other distinctive style is his sense of grandeur. He believes that even when directing smaller films, Xiao Ran can still exhibit an amazing sense of grandeur, and he is the most likely person to direct Hong Kong’s first epic film.

Regarding this, Xiao Ran can only smile bitterly, not knowing what to say. His directing experience and insights allow him to quickly determine the best approach. But he doesn’t consider those skills his own. In fact, he’s underestimating himself. If his first few films had a lot of imitation, there’s hardly any now—what he does is purely the result of drawing on the essence of future cinema.

On these topics, Xiao Ran had tried to work with other directors and given many newcomers a chance. But basically, their attempts failed or turned out to be unremarkable. This is what frustrated him—the talent hadn’t been discovered. If there was no such talent, it was still possible to find it, but without it, things turned out poorly.

When it comes to failed films, don’t think that just because of Xiao Ran, the movies produced by Magic Shadow would necessarily be successful at the box office. Even the biggest annual productions can suffer setbacks. For example, “Groundhog Day,” released last year, had an investment of 50 million. The director did a great job, but it only reached an artistic level while failing completely commercially, resulting in huge losses.

However, under Xiao Ran’s strict control and with the judgment of the planning department, such situations rarely occur. At least the failure rate is much lower than in Hollywood. It’s just that there are few examples of failure.

The huge success of “Jurassic Park” seems to require no further description. Back then, Hollywood was alerted for the first time by “Terminator 2,” which then kicked open the doors to the world film market. Now, Xiao Ran has quickly counterattacked with this film.

Hollywood was stunned. They always thought they were the best in the world. Even though Hong Kong films have grown rapidly under the leadership of Magic Shadow, with more than one film earning over 50 million at the North American box office each year, they still didn’t take it seriously—after all, how could emerging forces compare to established film companies?

But the release of this film really gave Hollywood a loud wake-up call. Coppola, who is on good terms with Xiao Ran, was even more shocked. He never imagined a film could be made in such a way.

Lucas was also stunned by this. He always thought Industrial Light & Magic’s special effects were the best in the world. But he never expected that Magic Shadow’s Infinite Special Effects could create such realistic computer-generated effects.

This was inevitable, as Magic Shadow invested heavily in technology and continuously recruited experts from around the world. Infinite Visuals, of course, also recruited many talents and, with the abundant funds from its parent company, developed rapidly—which was only natural.

In fact, Industrial Light & Magic did have such technology, but they just didn’t imagine films could be made this way. Sometimes, the differences between things stem from differences in people’s thinking. After that, Industrial Light & Magic worked hard to catch up and, indeed, matched Infinite Special Effects for many years—though that goes without saying.

When Coppola and Lucas watched the film and were shocked, the first thing that came to mind was Magic Shadow’s famous goddess logo, which led them to think of Xiao Ran. They immediately called to confirm that it was computer-generated special effects, and they were even more astonished.

This time, thanks to the creative team’s clever arrangements in terms of commercial elements—such as making Black characters one of the main forces in the North American market—Shadow added a Black character to Jurassic Park. Although that character ultimately lost his life, careful balancing in trailers and other promotional materials still helped attract Black audiences and contribute to the film’s box office success. There were countless such commercial strategies; for example, to appeal to the female market, the creative team specifically changed a character who could have lasted until the latter half of the film into a woman. This is a highly meticulous aspect of film production—otherwise, where do you think those hundreds of millions in box office revenue come from? Han Long and his team put in a great deal of effort in planning this film, striving for balance in trailers, posters, and even merchandise to appeal to all ages and genders. As a result, this became one of the most successful film plans in Asian and global cinema, a direct result of Xiao Ran’s deliberate cultivation and years of expertise in such planning. The North American box office reached $330 million, while the global total exceeded $800 million. It immediately became the highest-grossing film in history and ranked third in North American history, behind Star Wars and E.T. With such achievements, Shadow was bound to attract attention. No one could have imagined that such technical innovations could come from an Eastern film company. Needless to say, Shadow instantly became one of the most renowned companies in the world. Infinite Vision and the entire creative team also became globally famous, with Liang Jun and Liu Mei earning royalties as a result. The two even received a reward of tens of millions from this film, far more than their salaries. But that’s all for later. Since Shadow needed to acquire a Hollywood company by October, Warner, after watching the film, was willing to pay a staggering $50 million to buy the North American rights (including video tapes), but Shadow refused. After all, Xiao Ran wasn’t stupid—why let Hollywood reap that money when he was already in talks to acquire it? Not to mention Jurassic Park’s nearly $400 million box office in North America historically. If Shadow had acquired Columbia or Universal to distribute it, he could have made nearly $100 million in profits. There were also television broadcast rights—historically, NBC paid $70 million just for four broadcasts. Plus, there were huge profits from video tapes. Xiao Ran didn’t pay much attention to the film’s box office success or excellent reviews; he was busy preparing his next project. His new film was an extremely interesting piece—more of a uniquely personal, low-budget, and experimental work. The creative team didn’t offer a high salary just because Xiao Ran was the boss. Although he had received tens of millions in royalties from The Legend of the Racing God, that was a commercial film, and the team was well aware that this new project was actually an experimental film.

Thus, during the negotiations between the production department and Xiao Ran, in order to shoot the film he wanted, he had to accept a cut of half his usual salary. Even so, this director, who earns the highest salaries in Hong Kong, still received a fee of two million for this film. Xiao Ran never expected that his voluntary salary cut would later lead to an unwritten rule: whenever a director wants to create a personal work with a strong individual style and little commercial element, they usually have to accept a reduced salary.

The schedules of the two leading actors were specially adjusted to accommodate Xiao Ran, and although they only charged nominal fees, the total amount still amounted to five million. Of this, Liu Qingyun, who became a top-star worth eight million after starring in the first two successful films of the “Die Hard” series, accounted for the majority of the cost.

The other crew members were all Xiao Ran’s long-time partners and also charged nominal fees. However, something extremely funny happened: aside from the online expenses—namely the salaries of the actors and crew—amounting to ten million, the budget for offline expenses, such as venue rental and other technical costs, was actually less than four million.