Rebirth 02, the Celestial Being Told Me to Stop Pretending

On the last day of February, the tail end of the Spring Festival was not yet completely over.

A film with no big-name director or stars and a total budget of three million is making a stunning comeback in theaters across the country.

3 PM, Beiping New Film Union Cinema Office.

Liu Jianguo, the distribution department manager, slammed the phone back onto the landline, stared at the reports on the table for a few seconds, then picked it up and dialed again.

"How much did you say?"

On the other end of the phone, Chen Li, the distribution manager of China Film Stellar Media, sounded tense: "In two weeks, the total box office nationwide has exceeded 12 million. I just finished checking the data here, and United Pictures made 620,000 yesterday alone."

After swallowing, he continued,

"Six hundred and twenty thousand! Do you know what that means? When Lao Wang, who's in charge of scheduling, called me, his hands were shaking."

Liu Jianguo remained silent.

He certainly knew what that meant.

With a budget of three million, the box office more than quadrupled in two weeks.

What alarmed him even more was that at the beginning of the new year, the film market was almost entirely devoured by the imported blockbuster "Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets," leaving domestic films unable to recover.

Just then, a stone unearthed from under the Luohan Temple in the mountain city smashed the entire plate upside down.

"What about the screening schedule?" Liu Jianguo asked.

"We've added three more," Chen Li said, his tone a mix of excitement and confusion.

"We don't have enough copies. The distributors from Jinyi and Zhujiang in Guangzhou called and yelled at me, saying that audiences were queuing up but couldn't buy tickets, and that I was deliberately holding back the film. Where the hell am I supposed to get the copies for them?"

Liu Jianguo hung up the phone, lit a cigarette, and leaned back in his chair.

He has been in this industry for nearly twenty years and has seen too many grand pronouncements and humiliating defeats.

A freshman at the Beijing Film Academy wrote, directed, and cobbled together three million yuan to make a gangster comedy full of local dialects, along with a group of actors whose names no one could recall.

Three months ago, if anyone had mentioned this to him, he would have thought they had lost their mind.

But now, this film is going viral across the country at a rate of doubling every week.

Even more outrageous, the northern cinema chains have also launched their own campaigns.

The manager of Huaxing Cinema complained last week that out-of-town audiences couldn't understand the dialect dialogue, but within a few days, the data was on his desk.

The audience laughed and bought it. "I'll give you a piece of my mind" became a popular meme, even taxi drivers used it all the time.

He pulled out a distribution report, his eyes falling on a note in the corner: "Number one domestic film at the box office in the first quarter of 2003."

The following evening, in the banquet hall on the second floor of the BJ Kunlun Hotel.

This is the quarterly meeting of the China Film Distribution and Exhibition Association. Usually, it's just a formality, but today the managers present all had a tense expression on their faces.

Liu Jianguo sat by the window, looking at the meeting agenda in his hand.

The third agenda item, written in bold, reads: Discussion on current market anomalies.

He knew what this "abnormal phenomenon" referred to.

When the association's chairman, Lao Xu, took the stage, he first said a few polite words.

He then changed the subject: "There's a low-budget film out recently, you all probably know about it. Two weeks, twelve million. Everyone here is an expert, can anyone explain to me how this happened?"

There was a moment of silence in the audience.

Manager Zhou from Shanghai United spoke first: "Chairman Xu, we're also looking into this. The film itself is indeed of good quality, but to be this popular... frankly, we didn't expect it."

"Didn't expect that?" Old Xu pushed up his glasses.

"I heard that some cinemas are showing this film eight times a day. They've cut screenings of imported blockbusters. Folks, I'm not saying you can't show domestic films, but you have to find the right balance, right?"

A representative from Guangzhou Jinyi Cinemas raised their hand: "Chairman Xu, the audience is specifically requesting to see this film; the ticket office phones are ringing off the hook. Yesterday, at our Tianhe branch, the last showing of this film was at 1 AM, and the attendance was still 70%. What can we do?"

Liu Jianguo took a sip of tea and remained silent.

The film's sudden release disrupted the entire market's rhythm.

The revenue-sharing agreements for imported films were signed long ago, but the sudden surge in box office revenue for domestic films has raised concerns about the redistribution of interests among various parties.

"What about the copies?" Old Xu asked again. "I heard that many places don't have enough copies, so audiences can't buy tickets."

Chen Li from China Film Stellar Media stood up: "We've already expedited the film processing. But film processing takes time, and there's a nationwide demand right now. The printing plants are working three shifts and still can't keep up."

Another round of discussion broke out below.

Some have suggested that the film scheduling should be controlled to give other films some space.

Some people whispered that the director of this film was not even twenty years old, and wondered if it would be a flash in the pan.

As Liu Jianguo listened to these discussions, he recalled the latest data he had seen that morning.

As the film entered its third week, the box office curve not only didn't drop, but actually continued to rise. This morning, he received a call from the Chongqing cinema chain, saying that some people there had already started watching it two or three times.

"Everyone," Old Xu tapped the table.

"I'm not trying to suppress any particular film. But this situation is indeed special. We need a unified explanation, how to address it externally and how to coordinate internally. Especially regarding imported films, we need to provide an account."

Liu Jianguo finally spoke up: "Chairman Xu, I don't think this matter can be explained."

Everyone looked at him.

"The market is the market," Liu Jianguo said.

"Audiences vote with their feet and with their money. The fact that this film is a hit shows that audiences need movies like this. Isn't our job in distribution and exhibition to deliver the movies that audiences want to see to them?"

Old Xu was silent for a moment: "Jianguo is right, but the rules can't be broken. Here's what we'll do: the association will set up a temporary coordination group to manage things like copy allocation and scheduling. We can't let some places get too big while others starve."

After the meeting, Liu Jianguo was surrounded by several managers of small cinema chains in the corridor.

They wanted to use their connections with the New Film Union to get more copies.

Liu Jianguo gave a few perfunctory replies, then his phone rang.

It was Chen Li calling.

"Jianguo, I just received the news." Chen Li's voice trembled slightly.

"In Shanghai, the daily figure has exceeded one million."

Liu Jianguo held his phone, looking out the window at the traffic on Chang'an Avenue.

In March, the wind in Beijing still carried a chill, but spring had already arrived.

Han Sanping sat in a private room on the third floor of the Kunlun Hotel, a cigarette burning in his hand, next to Lao Zhao, the deputy general manager of China Film Distribution Company.

The ordinary-looking young man across from me had just spread out a distribution data sheet for "Crazy Stone" on the table.

With a budget of three million, the box office reached twelve million in two weeks, and the national additional screening rate was 230%.

What's even stranger is the composure this person exudes, which doesn't seem like that of a twenty-one-year-old.

What are your plans for the future?

"Mr. Han, I'd like to speak with you."

"What are you talking about?"

"I want to discuss a distribution cooperation framework with China Film Group."

Han Sanping raised an eyebrow.

"The biggest problem with 'Crazy Stone' right now is that the number of copies isn't keeping up with the number of additional screenings." Lu Chen pushed another document over.

"China Film Group has the most mature film print production and distribution system in the country. I would like to sign a priority distribution agreement, in which case China Film Group will have the first choice for distribution rights for all my films in the future."

Old Zhao couldn't help but interject: "These kinds of framework agreements are usually only signed with companies of Huayi Brothers and New Pictures' level."

"That's why I came to talk to President Han." Lu Chen's gaze fell on Han Sanping's face.

Han Sanping did not answer, and picked up the distribution data sheet again.

My gaze lingered on the line "Box office surpasses 12 million in two weeks" for a long time.

When will your next film start production?

"The script is almost finished." Lu Chen pulled a thin stack of papers from his bag and placed them on the table.

"But I don't plan to film it for now."

Why?

"I need to register the company first and set up the copyright system. Once the dividends are received, it will be enough to register another company."

Han Sanping stared at him for a full five seconds, then took out a business card from his pocket, wrote a line on the back with a pen, and pushed it in front of Lu Chen.

"This is Old Wang's extension number in the distribution department. You can contact him, and I'll have someone prioritize arranging the copying."

Lu Chen picked up the business card and put it in his jacket pocket.

"Thank you, Mr. Han."

As he reached the door, Han Sanping called out to him, "Wait. Bring me your framework agreement, once it's finished, so I can take a look."

Lu Chen nodded, opened the door, and left.

Looking at the closed door, Lao Zhao turned to Han Sanping and asked, "Are you really planning to sign a framework agreement with a sophomore?"

Han Sanping lit another cigarette, didn't answer directly, folded the distribution data sheet twice and stuffed it into his briefcase.

"Old Zhao, how many people your age have you met who, when facing me, don't tremble, speak truthfully, and fulfill all the demands they make?"