Chapter 190: Targeting the West

Hu Jinquan, Li Hanxiang, and Zhang Chi were all master directors of Hong Kong cinema in the 1970s. Li Hanxiang excelled in palace dramas and historical epics, while Zhang Chi was a hardcore action film director known for his bloody and ruthless style. Many directors in Hong Kong were influenced by him, and he helped launch countless stars. Just as in history, great stars and directors like Li Xiuxian and Wu Yusen came together to shoot a film to celebrate master Zhang Chi’s birthday.

Hu Jinquan, on the other hand, was a master of wuxia genre films. He was responsible for bringing Zheng Peipei, hailed as the “Empress of Wuxia,” to stardom. Master Hu also created numerous classic works that brought wuxia films to dazzling prominence. For example, “The Heroine” is a classic, with its battle scene in the bamboo forest being imitated by countless later films.

With Hu Jinquan as producer and Xu Ke as director, Xiao Ran was extremely confident about “Smiling, Proud, and Unyielding.” It should be noted that at Shadow Company, the director held central authority, with the producer focusing only on guiding direction and strategic matters, and the producer handling miscellaneous tasks. On set, the director was the most important figure, as this arrangement aimed to inspire greater passion and creativity in directors.

Xiao Ran understood well that if things were handled according to Hollywood’s producer-centered model, the director would essentially be just a worker, controlled like a puppet by the producer. Without any autonomy, even lacking final editing rights, it would completely stifle directors’ creative desires.

This was why many talented filmmakers failed once they went to Hollywood. Hollywood lured film talents from around the world with money and technology, areas where Xiao Ran currently fell short. The only way to attract truly talented people was by giving them creative freedom.

At Shadow Company, the situation was unique. Generally, unless a director had a formal film education, they would first go through the role of producer. This allowed future directors to experience the hardships and demands of production while learning from the crew and understanding film-making.

Don’t underestimate the role of producer. As stated in “Hiring a Hitman to Film Someone,” preliminary preparation is one of the most crucial stages. Although a producer might know nothing about filmmaking, Xiao Ran required them to have at least a basic understanding of filming and concept development.

During preliminary preparation, the producer needed to work with the director to outline the overall filming process. They had to have a certain understanding of the film to accurately carry out all the preparations required by the director.

At Shadow Company, the producer role served as a stepping stone for those who hadn’t graduated from film schools but aspired to become directors. Although Xiao Ran had promoted many promising new directors in the past couple of years due to a need for talent, most still had to go through such a training period. Now, after three years, the first batch of producers had successfully risen to the rank of directors.

At Phantom, the director is central, but not absolute. The producer is chosen by the art director to oversee the filming process. The producer is responsible for matters like budget and schedule, while the producer provides guidance and suggestions to the director regarding the film’s style and other aspects. Those who can serve as producers are mostly renowned directors, such as Xiao Ran himself, or Xu Ke and Wu Yusen. For example, “Peace Hotel” was produced by Wu Yusen. Those given the chance to work with such great directors are usually promising new directors or those involved in important projects. Of course, Xiao Ran doesn’t mind if the directors he trains work for other companies; his goal isn’t to monopolize Phantom, but rather to dominate Hong Kong cinema. This means he has to let go of some talent to some extent. Still, Phantom signs quite a few directors, such as Xu Ke and Wu Yusen. The truly top talents, however, remain under Phantom’s control—something Xiao Ran has always desired to achieve. Seeing Xiao Ran lost in thought, Lin Qingxia couldn’t help but walk over and sit beside him, gently patting him. “What’s wrong? Haven’t you finished your script yet?” “It’s difficult! Really difficult!” Xiao Ran smiled bitterly. “New Dragon Inn” almost failed completely in Europe. If it weren’t for the support of Asians and some locals, it might not even have earned 40 million in box office revenue.” “Forget about it. You still have so many ideas that you haven’t used yet!” Lin Qingxia sometimes didn’t understand her husband. He clearly had many ideas but refused to use them for his own films or write them down. Saying this, she leaned gently against Xiao Ran’s shoulder and said softly, “Don’t exhaust yourself!” “It’s okay. Such a small issue can’t stop me!” Xiao Ran looked into Lin Qingxia’s eyes and saw concern there. He couldn’t help but smile as he shared his problem: “You might not know my goal. I want to use this film to help Westerners accept wuxia!” “Actually, I already had the planning team investigate various Western habits…” Xiao Ran recalled that report. He was quite aware of some Western habits, but the report was just meant to remind others in the company to follow those habits when entering the Western market. “Westerners value rational thinking. Their ideas are always logical—they emphasize science in everything!” Lin Qingxia watched quietly as Xiao Ran spoke passionately. She liked this side of him. Xiao Ran sighed again. Chivalry was easy to explain, but martial arts were hard to justify scientifically. Suddenly, an idea struck him, and he exclaimed excitedly, “I’ve got it! We can add a Western character. Using this character to explain things will make it more convincing.” Seeing Xiao Ran so happy, Lin Qingxia also showed joy. Xiao Ran explained excitedly, “If they want science, we’ll give them science! Take internal energy, for example. We can make it more tangible—say that practicing martial arts changes a person’s genes. Besides that, we can express this concept in other ways too!”

Lin Qingxia was stunned. She understood what Xiao Ran was saying, but she didn’t quite grasp it. Excited, Xiao Ran didn’t notice his wife’s expression and was only filled with pride. Of course, he knew that martial arts had nothing to do with genes, but since Westerners wanted a reasonable explanation, he would give them one.
Martial arts could alter human genes, and because such changes required extremely precise coordination in various aspects, failures in these changes could lead to the practitioner becoming paralyzed (going mad from overuse). Moreover, the practitioner’s physique had to be suitable, and so on—this should be acceptable to those Westerners who emphasized a scientific approach to everything.
After resolving this most difficult issue, Xiao Ran finally explained his idea, and Lin Qingxia finally understood. But soon, she asked in confusion, leaning on the desk, “So, are martial arts really real?”
Xiao Ran chuckled. Whether they existed or not wasn’t important at all. What he wanted to convey was a greatly exaggerated version of martial arts, a fantasy-style wuxia story. In fact, he even imagined what his next personal work might look like.
His next project was about magic arts. With this inspiration, he suddenly saw the way forward. He thought he could use the concept of supernatural abilities as understood in the West to explain magic arts—for example, talismans could be seen as magic arts infusing one’s power into those pieces of paper, using those words to suppress or enhance the energy within.
Now, Xiao Ran was almost crazy with excitement. Only by writing these two scripts could he truly be considered a screenwriter, not just someone who relied on plagiarism. This was also why Xiao Ran had several classic films under his name but couldn’t write them himself, nor even direct them—he wanted genuine recognition, not one earned through theft.
Seeing Xiao Ran jumping around the room like a madman, Lin Qingxia was stunned, her mouth wide open in shock. Of course, it wasn’t because of his writing skills, but because he was so excited about solving such a problem.
Seeing his expression, Lin Qingxia couldn’t help but laugh and grab him. Xiao Ran chuckled, wrapped his arms around her, and they fell onto the bed. Just as he was about to kiss her beautiful face, a hand stopped him. Lin Qingxia asked seriously, “Have you resolved that matter with Dad?”
“Not yet!” Xiao Ran smiled lightly. He wasn’t worried about this at all. If even Mo Huaien couldn’t be dealt with, he might as well quit the game—after all, Hollywood would surely have even more ruthless tactics ahead. “It was Mo Huaien who did it. I don’t want to touch him for now!”
“Mo Huaien?” Lin Qingxia thought for a moment before remembering the guy who had pursued her for a long time. She wondered if it was because of her, her expression changing slightly. “What exactly does he want? He’s too practical—hard to deal with!”

Xiao Ran smiled faintly. In his view, there were no easy opponents—those who were easy to deal with couldn’t be called opponents at all. Mo Huaien, being too practical, was extremely profit-driven in business, which was a flaw, and every flaw carried a fatal weakness. Xiao Ran’s own fatal weaknesses lay in Lin Qingxia and his film career; whoever could target these two points would have a chance to defeat him.

However, he still didn’t quite understand what drove such a pragmatist like Mo Huaien to take action against him indirectly. There was only one answer: profit, huge profits. But what exactly was this profit, and who would offer it to him? This remained a mystery to Xiao Ran.

What puzzled him even more was that Mingxuan was only in debt of a few hundred million. As long as Shadow Corporation took control, they could easily cover that debt. So why would Mo Huaien want that piece of land then? He gently moved his fingers on his leg, thinking quietly. Unless… unless Mo Huaien wasn’t interested in that land? Otherwise, it would be impossible for him to take it from Shadow Corporation.

There were four major companies—Jiahe, Shaw Brothers, Japan’s Shochiku, Toho, Nihon Eiga, and Toei—as well as two Korean distribution companies, SidusHQ and KOSEN—all of which needed to be dealt with by Xiao Ran. At the very least, if he wanted to dominate the Asian market, these film companies would surely pose obstacles.

In fact, Xiao Ran already considered himself lucky in terms of Korea. By 1991, major Korean companies like Samsung, Hyundai, and Daewoo would enter the film industry due to policy changes, using their financial power to control most of Korea’s cinemas. If he tried to make a move then, it would be too late.

But dealing with so many opponents was indeed not easy. Xiao Ran was deeply troubled by this, yet surely there must be a way, right? Suddenly, his eyes lit up, and he smiled eerily!

“Love in the Sky” was released around Christmas, earning box office revenues of forty million. “Two Heroes in Blood” was temporarily put aside in Xiao Ran’s film library. He realized it might be necessary to always have two ace cards in hand to counter attacks from competitors. Besides, “Two Heroes in Blood” wasn’t really suitable for release during the Spring Festival—it could easily be released in May.

As for this year’s summer season, Xiao Ran had reserved slots for “Terminator 2” and another youth-themed film, “School Troublemaker”. He was confident that Shadow Corporation would fill cinemas with various blockbusters every year, making everyone willingly spend their money.

For this Spring Festival season, Xiao Ran planned to focus on two New Year’s films. One was “The Gambler” starring Liu Hua and Wang Zuxian. However, this version of “The Gambler” was completely different from the original—only using its name. The other film was directed by Chen Jia Shang, who had recently taken charge, and starred Li Lianjie in “Tiger Heart”.

Of course, don’t think that Shadow Corporation only released these two films during the Spring Festival season—these were just the main ones. There were also two or three other films released around the same time, but not in as many theaters. The Art Cinema Circuit continued to show two artistic films. This was the advantage of controlling the theater circuit—ability to adjust as desired.

No other companies have the capability to release two major films during the New Year season—firstly, due to the lack of theaters, and secondly, because they lack a production strength comparable to that of Mirage. This time, Golden Harvest is releasing “Miracle,” while Deppa is producing a romantic comedy that Xiao Ran has no memory of at all; its director is also new to the industry, and the film is titled “Love in Heaven.” Tianluo Company, on the other hand, is focusing on a realistic action film produced by Mai Dangxiong.

As the Spring Festival approached, at Xiao Ran’s request, the Film Association held a meeting. Once again, the four major companies were the main participants; in fact, it made no sense for other companies to attend, as they simply wouldn’t be able to contribute meaningfully. However, this time, in addition to the four major companies, a few smaller distribution companies also took part.

Wu Siyuan remained seated at the president’s seat at the front, while the others sat down in order according to their influence. Wu Siyuan cleared his throat and said to everyone present, “Actually, this meeting was requested by President Xiao. Why don’t we hear what he has to say?”

Xiao Ran stood up, walked slowly around the meeting room with a smile, allowing the puzzled looks from the others to fall on him. It wasn’t that Xiao Ran was putting on an act; he was simply considering using this tone to express his thoughts. It wouldn’t be wrong to be stricter, but might it be too showy?

Thinking of this, Xiao Ran smiled lightly, glanced at his bosses, and said calmly, “Last year, all of you must have made a lot of money.”

“President Xiao, what do you mean by that?” Zou Wenhui glared at Xiao Ran discontentedly. He wasn’t as idle as Xiao Ran. Having Guan Chang here for such a meeting was sufficient—why invite him as well? “Everyone is very busy. If you have something to say, just say it directly!”