Chapter 82 Settlement and Forum
Chapter 82 Settlement and Forum
After Pete finished speaking, Roger could no longer suppress the smile in his eyes.
The budget of eight million has far exceeded Searchlight's initial expectations.
It's worth noting that in the 2005 North American independent film market, most award-winning art films didn't even reach five million dollars in budget.
"Dallas Buyers Club" has already secured a top-tier (A) resource from Searchlight Media even before it has been officially launched.
But Lin Ruiyang did not show any excitement in the face of Pitt's first step of backing down.
"Mr. Rice, the budget is just the foundation. What I want to know is, how did Searchlight's legal department evaluate the additional conditions I proposed: the final cut and the tiered revenue share starting at 7%?"
Upon hearing this, the veteran producer sitting next to Pitt frowned instantly and couldn't help but speak up:
"Director Lin, this doesn't conform to current Hollywood rules. There are only a handful of directors in the entire United States who have final cut rights, and those are giants like Spielberg and Martin Scorsese."
While you have the honor of Berlin, you're still a newcomer within the Hollywood union system. Moreover, the 7% back-end revenue share already crosses the profit threshold for major studios investing in independent films.
Lin Ruiyang didn't even glance at the producer; his gaze was fixed on Pete Rice: "Rules are meant to protect the mediocre, not to stifle geniuses."
"The problem with the Hollywood industrial system is that if even the final film needs a committee vote to decide, then why do we need a director? What industrialization produces most easily is safety; and safety often means mediocrity."
After a long silence, Pete finally spoke again: "I can help you fight for the final severance, but the board will not relinquish it unconditionally."
I need a guarantee.
"What guarantee?" Lin Ruiyang asked.
"Test screening".
Pete said slowly, "Spotlight needs to retain the right to conduct internal screenings. If the audience feedback is lower than expected, we must have the right to re-discuss the edited version."
"Can."
This time, it was Pete who was stunned, because he didn't expect Lin Ruiyang to agree so readily.
"But I also have conditions," Lin Ruiyang continued.
"The test screening version must be decided by me personally, and the searchlight cannot test it by commercial film standards."
"Can't we test it using commercial film standards?" The veteran producer next to Pitt frowned even deeper, his expression slightly displeased.
"Director Lin, although Searchlight focuses on independent films, we are still a subsidiary of 20th Century Fox. When any film enters the test screening stage, the production guarantee company and theater managers will refer to the entertainment index of the audience questionnaire. You are asking for special privileges."
"This is not a privilege, but a respect for both art and the market."
"If you threw 'Brokeback Mountain' or 'Sophie's Choice' into a test screening at any commercial theater in Ohio and let those popcorn audiences who only like to see popcorn pop and superheroes save the world rate it, you would only get a bunch of failing reports."
Offering artistic slices of independent film to cater to the mediocre tastes of traditional theaters is the root cause of the continuous losses suffered by independent studios from major Hollywood studios in recent years.
The atmosphere in the lounge fell silent again, and the veteran producer next to Pitt looked visibly displeased.
Pete suddenly chuckled softly: "I'm starting to understand why Roger said you're not like a traditional Chinese director anymore; you're more willing to take risks than many American directors."
"It's not a gamble," Lin Ruiyang corrected calmly, "it's a certainty."
"If 'Dallas Buyers Club' is made realistic enough, it will naturally have the qualities to win awards. Because what Americans are best at is simultaneously disliking marginalized groups and being obsessed with stories of redeeming them."
This statement is no longer just an industry assessment; it even carries a sharp political deconstruction connotation.
Pete finally nodded slowly.
"Okay, the test screening terms will be as you propose. But the board can only accept a maximum of 5% for revenue sharing; 7% is too high."
"Pete, let me tell you a story."
Pete squinted: "Hmm?"
"In 1976, no one believed that Taxi Driver would make money; One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest was considered too depressing when it was first conceived; and even Philadelphia was initially rejected because no one wanted to touch the subject of AIDS."
"But in the end, they all became classics."
Why?
"Because the films that truly stand the test of time are never the safest projects, but rather the reflections of the spirit of the era."
Seeing the conflicted look on Lin Ruiyang's face, Pete finally slowly reached out his hand.
"6%, Final Cut comes with a test screening agreement, and this is the final version I can bring back to the board."
Roger instinctively held his breath.
"make a deal."
The entire negotiation truly came to fruition from this moment on.
The legal counsel next to him almost immediately began to take notes on the supplementary clauses.
Rogge finally let out a long sigh, as if he had just finished a tough battle.
"Jesus...Lin, do you know how cool you looked just now? Absolutely stunning!"
The forum the following day was held in a medium-sized lecture hall next to the main TIFF venue. The blue and white backdrop was printed with "Focusing on a Century of Chinese Cinema: History and Prospect" in both Chinese and English.
Zhao Shi sat in the center of the first row, next to several film bureau officials who had flown in from China and representatives of the Canadian organizing committee.
The delegation members were seated in the first two rows, including Jackie Chan and Stanley Tong from the film "The Myth".
Simultaneous interpretation equipment was set up on a long table on the stage. Several Canadian film critics and professors from the Department of East Asian Studies at the University of Toronto were talking in hushed tones, glancing occasionally at the Chinese delegation below the stage.
Lin Ruiyang quietly slipped in through the back door. Today he was dressed in a well-tailored suit, which made him look more like a scholar.
"Kobayashi, over here!"
Sitting in the second row, Stanley Tong had sharp eyes. He turned around and saw Lin Ruiyang. He immediately smiled, turned to the side, and waved to him, indicating that he should sit in the empty seat next to him.
Lin Ruiyang crouched down and sat down. When he looked up, he saw Cheng Long sitting next to him.
At this time, Jackie Chan was just over fifty years old and was at a crucial stage in his transition from an action actor.
His experience in Hollywood brought him global fame, but his works became formulaic and his box office performance was lackluster.
In particular, in 2003, a film starring him with an investment of US$1.1 million only grossed HK$133 million at the Hong Kong box office, becoming a major setback in his acting career.
"Director Lin, it's great to finally meet you in person! The cinematography in that film you won the award for in Berlin was absolutely amazing!"
Cheng Long turned his head, a kind smile on his signature broad nose, and offered his thick palm.
"Brother, you flatter me too much. I grew up watching your movies." Lin Ruiyang clasped his hands in greeting.
"Haha, Ji Li always mentions you to me, saying that a genius who doesn't follow the usual path has emerged in China." Jackie Chan patted Lin Ruiyang on the shoulder, a hint of admiration flashing in his eyes.
Then, he glanced at the backdrop on the stage with some concern and lowered his voice, saying, "However, the tone of today's forum is a bit too high. Those North American film critics and journalists are inherently arrogant, and I expect the Q&A session later will be full of strange and difficult questions."
Stanley Tong sighed beside him, giving a helpless, bitter smile: "That's right. In their eyes, Chinese films are either action movies like Big Brother's, which rely on hard-hitting and reckless kung fu, or period dramas like those directed by Zhang Yimou and Chen Kaige, which are full of exotic Eastern elements."
Or, they might make those films about remote, impoverished areas in underground independent cinema. They simply don't believe we can make genre films that conform to the logic of modern industrial cinema.
As Lin Ruiyang listened to the two men's complaints, his gaze swept over Zhao Shi, who had a serious expression, and several film bureau leaders in the first row, and he understood.
In Toronto in 2005, although a special section called "Focus on China" was established, the Western mainstream film industry's examination of Chinese films remained in the lingering Cold War mentality and Orientalist gaze of a cultural specimen.
They are willing to applaud, but that applause is for exotic customs, not for respect for competitors of similar industrial scale.
As expected, halfway through the forum, the Q&A session began.
A middle-aged white man wearing a Hollywood Reporter press pass stood up, took the microphone, looked directly at the spokesperson of the Chinese delegation on stage, and posed a question that was almost provocative:
"In recent years, Chinese films seem to have fallen into a strange cycle in the international market. From 'Hero' to 'House of Flying Daggers', and then to 'The Myth' which came to Toronto this year, Chinese capital seems to be stuck in the narrow fields of ancient kung fu and fantasy epics."
Once stripped of traditional kung fu and Eastern spectacles, modern Chinese films have virtually no box office appeal in the North American market. Does this mean that Chinese films, once freed from the protective shell of their cultural heritage, are actually uncompetitive in the modern film industry and in conveying globalized universal values?
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