Chapter 565 Time flies. May, like a bride, gracefully descends, draped in the fragrance of blooming flowers.
The script for the sitcom derived from "Happiness Street" has finally been completed.
One advantage of sitcoms is that they have almost no main storyline. Therefore, creators don't need to rack their brains to build a grand worldview and framework; they only need to tell a series of short stories well.
This is precisely Jian Xiaojun's forte. She originally came from a film screenwriting background, so asking her to develop a story spanning dozens of episodes in the style of a television series would be a challenge for her. However, she writes scripts with short, interconnected episodes with remarkable speed and efficiency.
Jian Xiaojun has endured much hardship and possesses a wealth of life experience. When she was working as an undocumented laborer at Guanjun Century, she racked her brains, devoured countless books, and struggled to submit her drafts of stories about wealthy families and powerful CEOs, all assigned to her by the company. Yet, when writing about realistic themes like Happiness Street, she had an abundance of material, only lamenting that she didn't have enough scripts to write, never worrying about a lack of material.
The movie "Happiness Street, Please Come In!" has finished its theatrical run, but its release on streaming platforms has sparked a second wave of interpretations and fan creations. Capitalizing on this momentum, officially announcing a sitcom adaptation is perfectly timed.
The sitcom spin-off of "Happiness Street" is tentatively titled "Happiness Street Side Story." Jian Xiaojun originally came up with more than a dozen light novel-style titles, such as "Happiness Street Incident Record Book," "Happiness Street Chronicles," "I Stand Above a Million Happinesses," "Happiness Street," and "The Street Where Happiness Blows By," but Ji Juntao ruthlessly rejected them all.
Qingping Entertainment initially rated "The Legend of Happiness Street" as a B-level project. Above B-level are A-level, S-level, SS-level, and SSS-level. For example, the "Happiness Street" movie is an SSS-level project.
After the rating was determined, Jian Xiaojun was very dissatisfied and privately sent the script to Ji Juntao. After reading it, President Ji deliberated for a long time and raised the rating of "The Legend of Happiness Street" to S level. For a modern drama without special effects, and not even an idol drama, this level was already the highest possible rating.
Shang Yechu became the producer of "The Legend of Happiness Street". A producer is essentially an investor, shareholder, financier, and promoter of a TV series. They are responsible for securing investment before the project is approved and for bearing the consequences of any flop after airing.
In layman's terms: the one who pays upfront and takes responsibility later.
This was Shang Yechu's first time as a producer in both her lives, and she was quite excited. After some research, she realized that the producer's job was simply to spend money and handle the logistics, with almost no involvement in the specifics of filming.
In other words, this position does not involve areas where Shang Yechu is skilled.
Knowing this, Shang Yechu didn't let things drift. Having been in the industry for so long, she had a thorough understanding of the reasons behind a show's flops and successes. Although she couldn't interfere with the filming of "The Legend of Happiness Street," as the financial backer, she could still make the overall decisions.
Shang Yechu, far away in Yinzhou, sent a hand order to the "Happiness Street Side Story" project, outlining three rules:
First, leave professional tasks to professionals.
Second, actors must listen to the director, and directors must listen to the screenwriter.
Third, those who don't listen should get out.
These three ironclad rules are lessons learned through blood and tears over the two generations of Shang Yechu.
It is a major taboo for laymen to instruct experts. Self-correction amidst overwhelming criticism from the audience is progress; being forced to change under the tyrannical power of capital is regression.
Shang Yechu was well aware of her own abilities. She had made a name for herself in acting, character research, variety shows, promoting on-screen couples (a point where she was clearly overconfident), and giving interviews. But as for directing filming, writing scripts, directing cinematographers, or directing lighting—that was utterly presumptuous of her.
There's a phenomenon in the Chinese entertainment industry. Many artists love to lament being born at the wrong time. They say that if they were born in another country, in a different year, in a different era, they would surely have achieved great things, leaving their mark on film history with half a film, and turning the world upside down with a single pen. Oh, the bitterness! Oh, the heavens! Oh, the earth! Oh, the censorship! Oh, the audience's lack of sophisticated taste! Oh, the market's excessively lowbrow! Hate! Hate! Hate!
However, the reality is: knowing it shouldn't be done, yet forcing it; knowing it shouldn't be done, yet insisting on it. Replacing or adding actors has become commonplace; adding scenes and altering the plot is considered mild. Add a few melodramatic love stories, a bit of padding. And then there are those intellectuals whose brains have both flown off the planet, whose moral compass is practically at the Mariana Trench, distorting right and wrong, twisting history, insisting on dressing up perfectly good girls. They excrete a hard poop from their buttocks, and spew out a lot of watery spittle from their mouths. Seeing the audience covering their noses and fleeing, they angrily point and curse: "This audience is the worst I've ever had!"
If it weren't for the fact that this land is vast, rich in resources, and has a large population capable of supporting several struggling nations, and that at this time when "people are shifting from material consumption to the pursuit of spiritual consumption," these noble cultural workers would long be nothing more than roadside figures. Even if they were lucky enough to survive this time, they would inevitably be consigned to the dustbin of history.
In view of this, although Shang Yechu remotely airdropped the command, he did not perform any micro-operations.
To ensure the entire crew adhered to these three rules, Shang Yechu bluntly told Ji Juntao: All actors and directors of "The Legend of Happiness Street," except for Qi Ming (who had already been cast, though Huang Feizhang had signed with Qingping Entertainment), must come from within the company. Those who can work, work; those who can't, get out.
This condition was indeed demanding. Fortunately, Qingping Entertainment had recently absorbed many new talents—or rather, old talents—from the bankrupt Chongshan Media, making it a formidable force. After careful selection, they actually managed to assemble this team.
The cast of "Happiness Street Chronicles" consists of seven people. In addition to Qi Ming, Mei Yaohong, Huang Feizhang, and Zhang Pangzi, who were already cast, Jian Xiaojun added three more young people, two men and one woman, when writing the script, taking into account the audience's needs.
Everyone loves to watch handsome men and beautiful women. Moreover, the clash of ideas among three generations can create a "catfish effect," becoming one of the highlights of the script.
Shang Yechu didn't worry about casting; she simply left it to the company. Now, it's finally time to see the results.
When Shang Yechu saw the cast list for "The Legend of Happiness Street" sent by the company, she raised an eyebrow, first surprised, then understanding.
The first name on the cast list for "The Legend of Happiness Street" is, of course, Qi Ming. The second name is one that Shang Yechu is very familiar with.
Zhuang Sheng.
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