Chapter 22: Copyright Collaboration

Grande Diretor Acadêmico do Entretenimento Chinês Escolher um dia para voar rumo ao norte 2683 words 2026-08-05 04:12:05

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Early the next morning, Cao Yang tried to get out of bed, but Li Xiaoran clung to him and would not let him rise. Still half-asleep, she mumbled something about being abroad and having nothing to fear—that woman back home would never find out.

Find out? Not a chance in hell!

Which woman?

Cao Yang was momentarily confused. Was she acting again? It was not until he noticed her struggling to suppress her laughter that he realized he had been tricked.

What else was there to say? Why was she clinging to him and rubbing against him first thing in the morning?

Young lady, do you have any idea what a grave mistake you have made? Have you never heard that a man must never be provoked in the morning?

It was true what they said about the vitality of a man in his twenties. Forty minutes later, Cao Yang rose from bed feeling refreshed, while Li Xiaoran lay there with her eyes half closed, utterly drained.

Although everyone in China who needed to know had already heard that he had won the awards, he still had to make the calls. That was simply the proper way to conduct oneself.

Cao Yang first called his parents. There was nothing complicated about it—he was calling to share the good news and give them something to celebrate.

What did parents hope for most from their children? First and foremost, that they would remain safe and well. If, on top of that, they could achieve even a little something, that would be a parent’s greatest wish.

His second call was to Old Situ. The man surely already knew the news, but saying it to him personally showed greater sincerity.

The third call went to Hou Keming, the school’s vice dean, who also served as head of Qingying Film Studio. He had probably heard about Cao Yang’s award even earlier, and would likely be even happier about it.

The fourth call was to Elder Xie Fei. There was no other reason than to offer his thanks.

The fifth went to Xie Xiaojing, head of the Directing Department. She had been a member of the department’s Class of 1978 and a student of Professor Situ; in private, Cao Yang could even address her as a senior fellow student.

Cao Yang did not call the coal magnate. All their dealings had been handled by Old Tian, so he would have Old Tian pass along the news.

He had arranged to meet several capable and sincere distributors today to discuss the film’s overseas release.

Cao Yang himself had full authority in this matter. His contracts with the school and the coal magnate covered only domestic rights and revenue sharing; they contained no provisions concerning overseas rights.

In other words, the film’s foreign rights were entirely in Cao Yang’s hands.

The school had probably never imagined that a student in his twenties, making his first film, could win an award in Berlin. That was why it had never even raised the matter of overseas rights at the time, asking only for shared domestic rights.

Once again, Cao Yang had to marvel at how good the coal magnate was to work with. He paid promptly, caused little trouble, never interfered with the film, and never issued foolish orders. If possible, Cao Yang still hoped the film would perform better at the domestic box office, so the coal magnate could make more money.

Overseas rights were not necessarily best sold to the highest bidder. What mattered most was the distributor. A powerful distributor possessed connections throughout the various film festivals, and those connections could be counted as an intangible asset.

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When the offers were more or less comparable, the rights should naturally go to the distributor with the stronger network.

At present, Cao Yang had shortlisted four distributors.

The first was Germany’s UFA Film Company, which had been the earliest to contact him.

UFA had approached him after the film’s premiere, perhaps because they thought the film was good and had a strong chance of winning an award. After all, it had been selected as the closing screening. They had immediately offered a package deal of one million dollars for all rights outside mainland China.

To be honest, if the film had not won an award, that would have been a very generous price.

But the reason they dared to offer so much was that they were betting on the film winning.

Cao Yang had not accepted.

After the film won two Silver Bears, UFA contacted him again the previous evening and said they were willing to renegotiate. When they met today, they immediately raised the offer to 2.9 million dollars, still seeking a package deal for worldwide distribution outside mainland China.

The German company wielded considerable influence. It was a cartel that brought together the major production studios.

If Cao Yang intended only to establish himself in Berlin, UFA would have been the best choice.

Another company to attract his attention was Europa Films, which had been founded only the previous year. One of its owners was the celebrated French director Luc Besson.

As far as Cao Yang knew, the company specialized in producing and distributing commercial films. Why had it taken an interest in this art-house film? Perhaps it wanted to enter the Chinese market.

It too wanted a package deal for worldwide distribution outside mainland China, and had offered the high price of 3.2 million dollars.

Although its offer was higher than UFA’s, Cao Yang considered the matter carefully and decided that selling to them would be inferior to selling to UFA.

Luc Besson was enormously famous internationally and highly influential among ordinary people in France. Yet in the field of art-house cinema—even at France’s Cannes Film Festival—his influence was merely average, and his personal network would be of limited use.

Europe was much the same as China in that regard. Art-house directors generally looked down on commercial filmmakers; there was an unspoken hierarchy of contempt.

The third company was MK2, which specialized mainly in distributing art-house films. Its sphere of influence might be limited to Europe, but its standing in the world of art cinema was formidable, especially at Cannes.

MK2 wanted only the European rights and offered 1.6 million dollars.

The final company was Sony Pictures Classics.

This American company, founded in 1992, had been established jointly by M. Baker, T. Bernard, and M. Bloom, the former owners of Orion Classics. It operated independently under Sony Pictures Entertainment.

Its primary business was distributing or producing art-house films, documentaries, and independent movies, as well as handling the overseas distribution of films made outside the United States.

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Zhang Yimou’s The Story of Qiu Ju and Ang Lee’s Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon had both been distributed by the company.

Sony Pictures Classics was exceptionally powerful. Many of the films it had distributed had won the Academy Award for Best Foreign Language Film.

The 1993 winner, Indochine; the 1994 winner, Belle Époque; and the 1995 winner, Burnt by the Sun, had all been handled by Sony Pictures Classics.

That year, the company was primarily promoting Ang Lee’s Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. The film’s numerous Oscar nominations were due in no small part to the company’s efforts behind the scenes.

Old Tian said that Sony Pictures Classics wielded tremendous influence in Venice and maintained close ties with the Venice Film Festival.

Then, with a mysterious air, he added that several members of the Venice festival committee held shares in Sony Pictures Classics. If Cao Yang wanted to win an award at Venice, the company’s assistance could make the difference between struggling and succeeding with half the effort.

Those words made Cao Yang’s heart stir. What did it mean to be one of their own? People bound by shared interests—that was what made them one’s own.

At first, Sony Pictures Classics had wanted a package deal for worldwide rights outside mainland China.

Cao Yang felt that he had now established a foothold at the Berlin Film Festival. If he formed a partnership with MK2, combined with the school’s connections, he could make an attempt at Cannes as well.

And if he entered into a relationship of mutual benefit with Sony Pictures Classics, then with the school’s network behind him, Venice would not be beyond his reach either.

Thus, he made his decision.

After negotiations with Sony Pictures Classics, the company agreed to relinquish the European rights and the Greater China rights, eventually raising its offer to 1.5 million dollars.

A deal was struck.

In the end, Cao Yang sold the European rights to MK2 for 1.6 million dollars, and sold the rights outside Europe and Greater China to Sony Pictures Classics for 1.5 million. The overseas rights brought in a total of 3.1 million dollars.

At the time, the exchange rate stood at roughly 8.27 to the dollar. Converted into Chinese currency, that amounted to 25.637 million yuan—not counting the box-office revenue from Greater China.

Do not think that sum insignificant. The previous year—2000—the film ranked second at the annual box office, Feng Xiaogang’s Endless, had earned only 30 million yuan.

After deducting business taxes, the special film fund levy, and the theaters’ share, roughly sixty percent of that amount would be gone.

In other words, the producers of Endless had received only a little over ten million yuan.

In those years, if one wanted both fame and fortune, winning an award at one of Europe’s three major film festivals still meant that art-house cinema was the way to go.

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