Chapter Forty-Four: The Hollywood Producer

Director Cao gave him a ticket in a prime spot, right in the center of the screening hall—the absolute best seat for watching a film. The only thing was, all his neighbors were foreigners. Chen Ling didn’t mind; it didn’t affect his enjoyment of the movie.

Yet, as soon as he settled into his seat, the white man beside him—sporting a beard reminiscent of NBA star James Harden—kept sizing him up, making Chen Ling uneasy. He didn’t know any foreigners, and he certainly wasn’t famous abroad; it was unlikely anyone would recognize him, and he had no impression of this stranger at all.

“Ling Chen? Are you Ling Chen, the director from China?” The foreigner, after observing him for some time, ventured a tentative question.

He spoke in Mandarin, though his Chinese was clumsy, even calling him by the wrong name—Ling Chen instead of Chen Ling. But foreigners often reversed names, putting the given name before the family name. Fortunately, Chen Ling was attentive; after considering the foreigner’s odd pronunciation, he understood.

“Yes, my name is Chen Ling, and I’m from China. Do you know me?” He decided to try correcting the foreigner’s naming habit.

He responded in flawless English; he hadn’t lied to Director Cao—his English truly was excellent.

Chen Ling was still puzzled as to how this foreigner recognized him, since he had no memory of the man.

“Oh, I knew I wasn’t mistaken.” The foreigner was delighted to have identified him correctly, and immediately switched to English. “I watched your ‘Thirty-three Days After Breakup.’ Tomorrow, after we sign the contract, the North American rights to that film will be mine.”

Ah, so he had seen Chen Ling’s movie, and was a distributor ready to purchase the rights.

That explained how the man recognized him; Chen Ling’s photo featured heavily on the promotional posters for “Thirty-three Days After Breakup,” and since he was the lead actor, his appearance in the film matched his real-life look. It was no wonder the man could identify him.

“Chen Ling from China, very pleased to meet you. You can just call me Chen.” Since the man was about to pay him for the film rights, Chen Ling didn’t mind the introduction.

“My name is Jack, from Hollywood. Glad to meet you.”

Jack, the distributor, saw how fluent Chen Ling’s English was and continued chatting in English, abandoning his mangled Mandarin.

After introducing themselves, the two began to chat idly. It was clear that Jack, the foreigner, had a keen interest in China’s film market, while Chen Ling was equally curious about Hollywood across the ocean. Both found the other’s world fascinating, and their conversation flowed easily, the topics never running dry.

Through their talk, Chen Ling learned that Jack, the bearded man, had once owned his own independent film company in Hollywood. In Hollywood, such companies were common. Years ago, as the North American film market boomed and Hollywood blockbusters began conquering global markets, even small independent companies like Jack’s could profit. Jack was capable, and for a time, enjoyed luxury cars, grand homes, and some influence in Hollywood, his social circle filled with glamorous actresses.

But the good times didn’t last. When the global financial crisis hit a few years ago, Jack’s company failed to adapt, the funding dried up, and bankruptcy soon followed.

He was left saddled with significant debt. After selling his house and car, he still owed a substantial amount. This situation was reminiscent of Chen Ling’s own life in his previous incarnation, making him feel a sympathetic connection to Jack.

Now, Jack worked for Hollywood’s Lionsgate, essentially working off his debt.

His main responsibility was scouting and acquiring the rights to outstanding overseas films for Lionsgate, or seeking promising projects to launch collaborations.

“My eye for films is pretty good. I’ve found quite a few excellent movies for Lionsgate these past two years. Soon, I’ll have paid off my debt.” Jack was visibly pleased as he spoke.

Chen Ling, having once been burdened by debt himself, understood the pressure that came with it.

“And I’ve selected several great scripts for the company. One is about to go into production—all these count as my achievements.”

Jack was obviously a chatterbox, doing most of the talking while Chen Ling listened. Since they shared similar experiences, Chen Ling understood how much pressure debt brought, and how talking about it could be a relief. With nothing else to do and the movie not yet started, Chen Ling was happy to be a listener.

“Let me wish you an early return to freedom,” Chen Ling said.

“Thank you. By the way, do you plan to remake your film into an English version?” The conversation turned back to Chen Ling’s movie.

“No, I don’t have any plans to move into Hollywood for now. The Chinese film market is developing well these years, and I’d rather focus on domestic projects.”

“That’s fine. If you ever want to adapt your movie for English-speaking audiences, contact me. If your script is good enough, I’ll help you find a suitable film company to bring it to the big screen—and I’ll make sure you get proper compensation.”

Distributors like Jack, active at film festivals, were adept at expanding their network—connections were their source of income, and it was clear Jack saw Chen Ling as a valuable addition.

“Proper compensation? If I wanted a share of the box office, would that be possible?”

Chen Ling knew that, unlike back home where actors and directors rarely received a share of the box office and only earned a salary, in Hollywood, directors and stars routinely got box office percentages—it was a mark of their status. Chinese actors like Jackie Chan and Jet Li had earned box office shares in Hollywood, but Chen Ling wasn’t sure if screenwriters could.

“Absolutely. Unlike China, in Hollywood, box office splits are normal. Screenwriters getting a share is rare, but it happens, and there’s a mature business model for it.”

Jack’s answer showed he was well-informed about the Chinese film industry, even knowing that directors and actors struggled to get box office splits.

The idea that screenwriters in Hollywood could get a share of the box office sparked Chen Ling’s interest. After all, he had plenty of foreign films memorized. Although his main focus was domestic, if he had the chance to profit from foreigners, he wouldn’t refuse.

He had been exploiting opportunities at home, but felt a bit guilty about it. If the target shifted abroad, he’d have no qualms.

Still, he’d need to plan carefully.

Just as Chen Ling wanted to continue the topic, the film was about to begin, so the two tacitly paused their conversation and turned their attention to the screen.

...

To be honest, “Somewhere” was a well-made film—at least, if Chen Ling hadn’t seen “Lost in Translation” before.

He’d never watched this Golden Lion winner in his previous life, though he’d heard of it. Now, seeing it, he found it heavily influenced by “Lost in Translation.” He wondered how it managed to win the Golden Lion this year—was it industry politics? Did even Europe’s top three festivals have duds? Or were the other contenders simply weak? Chen Ling couldn’t figure it out, which explained why so many online critics later mocked the film.