"You haven't researched this?"
“I’ve researched it.” Ji Juntao rubbed his temples. “I understand what you mean. We have too few topics to choose from. Like—”
“Films like ‘Fighter’, ‘Crossing the Flames of War to the South’, and ‘The Seventh Man’,” Shang Yechu loosened his grip on Ji Juntao, “Even if I acted in a hundred films, no one would credit me for the box office.”
The film industry's "return of talent" mentality is essentially a case of "we don't need another one." Role A can be played by B, or even D. Unfortunately, the sexy lamp-like role in a drama film is precisely the one where "we don't need another one." As long as the actress is beautiful enough and her acting isn't too bad, anyone can take the part.
This is a heavy, profound, and historically significant problem. Shang Yechu hasn't found a solution yet, nor does he intend to rectify the atmosphere in the film industry—what a joke! With the size of Qing Entertainment, it's a miracle it's not being regulated.
Ji Juntao touched the spot where Shang Yechu had just pressed, still hesitant: "If you don't want to play a sexy lamp, then go and film idol dramas first, and then chick flicks."
"Hmm." Here comes the important part.
"But if I were to act in a film like 'Don't Order Takeout, Ex,' 'Lemonade,' or 'She Forgot Her Umbrella,' and it flopped, who do you think the audience and investors would blame?"
Ji Juntao paused, then suddenly realized: "You, Shang Yechu! So you wanted me to take the blame for you again!"
"Ahem!" Shang Yechu was a little embarrassed when her thoughts were exposed. "There are gains and losses."
Shang Yechu knew that Ji Juntao understood his meaning.
Shang Yechu can't keep making arthouse films like "The Mute Woman" forever; she'll eventually have to transition to commercial films. But in the film industry—especially commercial films—the situation for actresses is truly awkward. Middle-aged actresses can still play roles like mothers and grandmothers as a fig leaf, but young actresses have almost nowhere to go.
At Shang Yechu's current age, if she doesn't want to be a supporting actress in a drama film, a stunning cameo, a cold and aloof gender-swapped younger brother, a beloved white moonlight whose voice and appearance remain, or a spoiled young lady who is protected by the male lead for two hours and then gives herself to him—in fact, Shang Yechu can't even get a bite of these roles, they've all been snatched up long ago—then she can only act in chick flicks.
However, chick flicks also have drawbacks. If they flop, the female lead has to bear all the profits and losses. If they do flop, there's no one to take the blame for Shang Yechu.
The first film an actor makes when transitioning to a new career is very important; it's best to take as few risks as possible.
This is where the advantages of "The Rules General Store" become apparent.
In terms of genre, it's a commercial film. As for the characters, the entire story unfolds from the protagonist's first-person perspective, making Shang Yechu the undisputed main character. The copyright for Shengwenzhi will not be sold to anyone other than Shang Yechu; control is entirely in Shang Yechu's hands, so there's no need to worry about anyone trying to steal the project.
In terms of plot, Sheng Wenzhi's story is quite original. It avoids the common tropes of flickering window shadows, swaying leaves, a bloody hand emerging from a toilet or water, or a blood-soaked female ghost suddenly appearing. There's also no softcore pornography. As long as the director doesn't go too far, the film shouldn't feel overly cheap or vulgar, and it shouldn't damage Shang Yechu's reputation.
Most importantly, Chinese audiences and investors are well aware of how badly domestic horror films perform at the box office. Even if they flop, it's just "that's how it always is," and no one will be surprised; but if the box office picks up even slightly, they can brag about it: "This is a horror film! The fact that a horror film can achieve this box office result proves Ye Chu's box office prowess!"
Compared to directly making chick flicks, "The Rules of the General Store" is more like a subtle trial and error opportunity. If it makes money, great; if it flops, it won't damage the foundation and won't cause Shang Yechu to be "rejected" by the film industry.
The risks are small, and the returns are steady. — For Shang Yechu.
The contrast between idealistic generosity and realistic stinginess often brings tears to one's eyes. In fact, filmmaking is an absolutely risky business, comparable to a gamble. Making this film was not without risk; it's just that the risk was transferred from Shang Yechu to Ji Juntao.
If the movie flops, Ji Juntao, the investor, will definitely lose money. After that, he'll have to take the blame for Shang Yechu again—why would my Yechu suddenly take on a horror film? It must have been a ruthless boss forcing her! Why would my Yechu's movie flop? Turns out, Qingping Entertainment's marketing and distribution were inadequate! Why would my Yechu rashly change careers? Turns out, Ji Juntao's career planning was flawed!
Ji Juntao, Boss Ji, Skinflint Ji. Bosses are born to take the blame for Shang Yechu.
Shang Yechu knew that doing so was unfair. But as a business partner, how could Ji Juntao prove her sincerity without offering some real money?
"Actually, this is also an experiment for Qingping Entertainment," Shang Yechu coaxed. "Our company will eventually have to create its own success story. Don't you want to take our newbies out and give them some experience?"
Nothing hones a person better than filming with real money, whether they are an actor or a behind-the-scenes worker.
These words solidified Ji Juntao's resolve.
Ji Juntao stood up, circled the sofa a few times, and finally said, "Okay. Let's do it!"
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