Chapter Forty-Five: Jack’s Commission Contract

After the film ended, it was clear Jack wasn’t enthusiastic about it either. “This is the second time I’ve watched this movie in Venice. Honestly, I don’t like it much, and I won’t buy the rights, even if it wins an award.” Jack spoke as he shook his head, his beard swaying with each motion.

“I don’t like it much either, to be honest, it’s a bit disappointing.” Chen Ling nodded in agreement with Jack’s opinion. Now he finally understood why this film was so controversial.

“Jack, it’s a pleasure to meet you. If you don’t have plans tonight, why don’t we have dinner together? I’m quite curious about Hollywood, and if it’s convenient, I’d like to learn more from you.”

Chen Ling was still thinking about what Jack said earlier regarding Hollywood screenwriters sharing in box office profits. The thought of getting a piece of the foreign pie was thrilling.

When Chen Ling arrived in Venice, it was already afternoon. After wandering around the film festival, it was late by the time the movie ended—just the right time for dinner, so the invitation was very appropriate.

“I’m happy to have dinner with a new friend.” Jack was delighted to be invited, his beard twitching with laughter.

Seeing Jack agree, Chen Ling felt relieved and called Director Cao from China Film to say he’d met a friend and would be back later after a small gathering.

Director Cao, though curious how Chen Ling could run into a friend in a foreign country, didn’t press the matter. He said he’d originally planned to welcome Chen Ling with dinner that night, but since Chen Ling had plans, they’d meet tomorrow instead. He reminded Chen Ling to stay safe and to call if needed.

After hanging up, the two left the festival grounds together and found a quiet restaurant outside to enjoy their meal.

Well, Italy didn’t really have much in the way of good food!

But Chen Ling’s purpose wasn’t culinary delight; he just wanted to fill his stomach.

During dinner, they talked about many things. It was mostly Chen Ling asking questions and Jack answering.

Through Jack’s descriptions, Chen Ling learned that Hollywood had various unions—directors, actors, and more. Virtually everyone working there belonged to a union, which gave the unions considerable power.

Screenwriters had their own union too. The Writers Guild protected the legal rights of every copyrighted script. If a script’s copyright was registered, and the screenwriter hadn’t given permission, any film company daring to produce the movie without consent would be sued—and they’d always lose.

The higher the box office, the greater the compensation. With ever-improving regulations, script infringement had become rare in Hollywood.

Chen Ling couldn’t help but marvel at the maturity and well-established rules of Hollywood’s film market—nothing like back home, where piracy ran rampant.

Xu Baldhead’s movie “Lost in Thailand” was an obvious rip-off of “Lost on Journey,” yet it still made it to theaters.

Of course, this was only temporary. At this stage, every industry at home lagged behind those abroad. If they wanted to overtake others on the curve, they couldn’t set too many restrictions at the beginning. Only after catching up would they start perfecting rules, and copyright protection wouldn’t be as weak as it was now.

The chaos of this era was inevitable—a price paid to catch up with the world. Real estate was like this, as were the internet and new energy sectors.

Through chatting with Jack, Chen Ling also learned that Jack’s business covered a wide range—not only did he work for Lionsgate, but he also took on outside projects: registering and buying copyrights, preparing film crews, helping movies get investment—essentially, anything connected to film. Each service had its own price, as expected.

Chen Ling joked, “Could someone from China join the Hollywood Writers Guild and Directors Guild?”

“Of course. If you’ve written for films that have been released and directed movies, you’re eligible to join these Hollywood unions. More importantly, I’ve bought your film rights on behalf of Lionsgate, so your movie will be released in the US. That makes you qualified. You’ll just need someone to assist you through the process.”

Having spent years at international film festivals, trading film rights, and running his own movie company, Jack was a savvy operator. He could vaguely guess at some of Chen Ling’s intentions, so he answered every question.

Having gotten the answer he wanted, Chen Ling didn’t pursue the topic further. Some issues required more thought before making a decision.

After a satisfying meal, the two—staying at different hotels—said their goodbyes at the restaurant door. The bearded Jack even clasped his fists in a mock salute like in the movies, leaving Chen Ling amused and exasperated.

Back at the hotel, Chen Ling found Director Cao, who had not yet retired for the night, and asked him about Jack’s reputation and reliability.

If Jack was trustworthy, Chen Ling might actually employ him. According to Director Cao, Jack was indeed reliable and had cooperated with China Film many times.

His reputation was solid; people like him were common at major film festivals and in Hollywood. As long as the contract was detailed, there shouldn’t be any major issues.

If a contract was signed during the festival, Jack could even help out. Chen Ling felt no need to refuse—there was no reason not to use the China Film banner when it was available.

***

The next day, when signing the film copyright contract with the distributors, Chen Ling also signed other agreements with his newly acquainted bearded friend Jack.

The content was to commission Jack to help Chen Ling purchase the rights to a novel serialized online in America.

“Chen, the copyright for the web novel you want to buy shouldn’t be difficult to acquire since it’s only being serialized on a personal website and has little influence. My commission fee is thirty thousand dollars; additionally, to help you join the Directors, Actors, and Writers Guilds in Hollywood, the commission is ninety thousand dollars plus copyright services, totaling one hundred and ten thousand.”

“Of course, this does not include the cost of purchasing the novel’s copyright.”

Jack carried all the necessary commission contracts with him. As he pulled them from his bag, he calculated the fees for Chen Ling.

Joining one union or several—it was the same process, and the fees weren’t high, so Chen Ling decided to join them all in one go.

Taking the contract Jack handed him, Chen Ling immediately passed it to the China Film staff responsible for contract review. With a contract that long, it was best to let professionals check it—who knew what pitfalls might lurk?

“If the copyright fee is too high, I’ll abandon the purchase.”

Chen Ling had no intention of appearing desperate; otherwise, the foreigner and the novel’s author might collude to fleece him—especially with an ocean between them.

“I’ll try to bargain. If I can’t secure the copyright for you, I’ll only charge a few thousand dollars for my trouble.”