Chapter 118: Scheduled for National Day Release

When Wu Xiang heard Yu Dong discussing these matters with him, he nearly laughed himself breathless.

These foreigners are sometimes just too damn dim-witted. They’re like stubborn donkeys—if you pull them, they won’t budge; if you hit them, they back away. You have to dangle a big carrot in front of them to get them moving!

Still, come to think of it, getting his own films out into the international market really hasn't been easy.

However, hearing Yu Dong talk about the film *Devils on the Doorstep*, Wu Xiang recalled a few things about it.

At this current point in time, 2001, many people were already voicing grievances for the film, asking why the Party was being so unreasonable and why they had banned it. Was it not just because it lacked their own people?

There was a deluge of such rhetoric, filling the internet. Setting aside the influence of online shills, let's look at the film itself. The direct reason for its ban was indeed procedural. You cannot take a film to an international festival before it has passed domestic censorship; that wouldn't fly anywhere. Besides, it wasn't just Jiang Wen’s film; several of Zhang Yuan’s previous works were banned for the same reason (though his films certainly wouldn't have passed the review regardless).

But what if the procedure had been followed correctly?

Wu Xiang reckoned that even if the paperwork were perfect, *Devils on the Doorstep* would still have failed censorship.

Was it for that reason? Just because there were no Party comrades in it?

Not exactly. Wu Xiang had his own analysis. Don't forget what Wu Xiang used to do; he was once a writer for those absurd "anti-Japanese resistance" melodramas. He knew the ins and outs of anti-Japanese dramas and films like the back of his hand.

Why was it banned? It wasn't for that reason. It boiled down to two points. First, the film smeared people who absolutely cannot be smeared: our dear farmers.

It cannot be denied that in that era, the peasant class was indeed quite ignorant—we admit that. But they weren't stupid. Jiang Wen’s film essentially portrayed them as fools.

Anyone who has seen the film understands that the story is something like "The Farmer and the Snake." The farmers were kind to the Japanese invaders, yet the moment the invaders were displeased, they slaughtered the entire village. Later, Jiang Wen sets out alone to take revenge, only to be captured by the powerful Nationalist forces and sentenced to death, with the execution carried out by the very Japanese invader he sought to kill.

Normally, this story could have highlighted the kindness of the farmers, but Director Jiang Wen didn't do that. We don't see much kindness in the film; instead, we see a suffocating, oppressive kind of ignorance.

Our country's farmers might be ignorant at times, but they are not stupid. Not only are they not stupid, they possess a certain peasant-like craftiness. In this film, that quality is completely absent. Forget craftiness; even basic common sense is nowhere to be found.

You can criticize the Party, you can point out issues with their governance, and you can even criticize past, turbulent eras—those films didn't have much trouble. But you absolutely must not smear the farmers. If you do that, don't expect to pass censorship or have a good outcome, because they are the roots—the roots of this nation!

The other group that cannot be smeared is none other than the Nationalist Party, currently holed up on the island.

That’s right, the Nationalist Party that once vied for control of the country. In the past, you could bring up historical facts—black history was easy to find and you could criticize them without reservation. But now, you can criticize them, but only mildly; you cannot go too far.

Look at *Devils on the Doorstep*. The Nationalist officer played by Wu Dawei is like a clown. Even his voice was deliberately altered, and the Nationalist government is portrayed as an accomplice to the Japanese. Even if the events depicted were true, you simply cannot put that on the silver screen.

When Wu Xiang was a writer for those resistance melodramas, this was a crucial principle.

Any screenwriter, in order to craft a story, must find many historical facts and then artistically embellish them. Wu Xiang knew exactly what the Nationalist Party was like back then. Many of the things they did were hair-raising and outrageous. But you cannot write about those outrageous things. Even if you wrote them and filmed them, they would never pass censorship.

Haven't you noticed how the image of the Communist Party is becoming increasingly positive in television dramas? Haven't you noticed how the dark history of the Nationalist Party is fading from history books?

Why is this?

It boils down to two words: Promoting Reunification!

This is also why, in textbooks, the island is indeed a "treasure island," but the moment you visit it, you will surely curse the government for being so immoral as to lie to us since childhood.

It must be said that the brothers of the Communist Party were heroic; they proved themselves in the subsequent War to Resist America and Aid Korea. However, the leader at that time wasted their blood and lives. Long live Generalissimo Chiang!

But, come to think of it, Jiang Wen’s film is still impressive. It insulted the Japanese to the point of being worse than beasts, yet it was later screened in Japan, and he even managed to trick a bunch of Japanese people into buying tickets to watch how they were being insulted.

One has to admit, this is indeed something worth learning from. One must view things comprehensively...

Thinking about all this, Wu Xiang wondered if he should return to his old profession and produce an anti-Japanese drama himself?

Well, he would try his best not to make it an "absurd" drama, but if it weren't "absurd," would he be doing himself justice?

A rough plan for a new film began to take shape. However, Wu Xiang currently had limited capital. Although he had created a situation of expanding on all fronts, the returns would take a while. So, it was better to focus on *Emperor Wu of Han* first.

Inevitably, the operation of a film begins with promotion, and *Emperor Wu of Han* had an inherent advantage.

This advantage didn't come from the topic sparked by Wu Xiang being asked about his injury at the film festival (and besides, his injury had healed long ago—otherwise, how could he have gained the upper hand in his scuffle with classmate Hai Qing?).

The advantage came from helping Bayannur shoot a tourism promotional film. Wu Xiang had sent Hao Yi to be the director and artistic advisor for the ad, and naturally, the film had to include relevant content from his current project. This was a way for both sides to leverage each other's strengths.

The Bayannur side, through their connections, managed to get the tourism promotional film aired directly on CCTV.

You surely remember those city promotional ads that appear every year after the Spring Festival Gala? This time, Bayannur aired one of those, featuring many elements from *Emperor Wu of Han*, especially the battle scenes.

Their hook was: The ancient battlefield of two thousand years ago!

That is what you call a win-win situation!

With trailers for *Emperor Wu of Han* on one side and beautiful scenery on the other, all on a prestigious platform like CCTV, the buzz for the film naturally followed.

But this was only the first step in Wu Xiang's operation. Next, he would hand the promotional trailer he edited to Yu Dong, having him use a more traditional method of promotion: advertising it within Bona’s own films by attaching it to the opening credits.

This is a very standard promotional model that everyone uses. Of course, it only became widespread in later years; at this time, such methods were rare. People still preferred using newspapers, television, and bus shelters, so Wu Xiang's proposal was quite novel.

Was it time for promotion already?

Yes, this was a blockbuster, and its censorship was already cleared. "Third Master" had watched the rough cut Wu Xiang just finished and told him directly to prepare the schedule—the review process would not be a hurdle.

According to the current progress and all conditions combined, Wu Xiang finally set the release date for September 30, 2001.

He wanted to target the National Day holiday. With the seven-day break and the "Golden September, Silver October" concept already established in the consumer market, this was an excellent choice.

As it stood, the National Day slot was not yet truly valued by film distributors. Indeed, looking at the release schedule for this year, many Hollywood blockbusters were concentrated around the May Day holiday or the subsequent summer slot; there weren't many releases for the National Day period.

Historically speaking, there were very few commercial blockbusters that sold well during the National Day holiday. Last year's *Life and Death Decision* was released during the National Day slot, but that was a mainstream propaganda film with many corporate buyouts—that was different.

In other words, the concept of a "National Day movie slot" didn't really exist yet. Even though some films had broken the 100-million mark, few people paid it much attention.

But who was Wu Xiang? As a reborn individual, he naturally knew the potential of the National Day slot. In the future, it would become one of the four major film slots in the country. With no one competing against him yet, it was like heaven-sent help!

There was another reason he chose this slot: the New Year slot was too crowded. Everyone was trying to squeeze into that period, thinking it was the only way to make money. Just look at the tragedies that occurred at the end of last year and the beginning of this year.

Therefore, all things considered, releasing this historical epic during the National Day holiday was the most appropriate choice.

Looking at the timeline, there were only a few months left. The market needed a warm-up. Naturally, Wu Xiang didn't forget the internet for publicity; he had resources in that area, and it would be a waste not to use them.

The overall tone was set. Next came the concrete operations. The matters were countless, but Wu Xiang couldn't manage them all—he had to let his subordinates handle the busy work. Because he had forgotten one thing—one very, very important thing!

It was 2001, and Wu Xiang was about to graduate from the Film Academy. He hadn't even written his graduation thesis yet!