Creating a Trend with One Article

January 4, 2007. The New Year's Day holiday had just passed.

Through the gaps in the thick, deep blue curtains, the gray light unique to a Beijing winter morning, as if mixed with ice shards, filtered in.

The indoor heating was strong, and the dry, hot air enveloped everything, forming a stark contrast with the severe cold outside.

Shen Shanden just wanted to sleep a little longer. His exposed face wasn't stunningly handsome, but it was dignified and pleasing to look at.

"Get up, you lazy bum. You have to go to China Film today."

Da Mimi woke Shen Shanden up.

Shen Shanden told her to stop bothering him, "Tangtang, no, Tiantian, no, Yuanyuan, not her either. Right, Mimi, stop messing around."

"You want to die, don't you? Is this how you act? Even if you say their names every day, I still won't agree to you having a harem!"

Da Mimi sprang up like a coiled spring.

"Ouch!"

Shen Shanden was completely awake. He got up and looked. Da Mimi had already jumped off the bed.

She was the most generous among future superstars.

Shen Shanden wasn't dreaming. He was a reborn individual, born in 1982.

In his past life, he was a civil engineer through and through. He worked in Qingdao and caught several waves of industry expansion, thriving and becoming a winner in life.

In middle age, his family life was in disarray, and he got divorced. However, his career took off. He saw an opportunity and, with friends, opened a transit company, illegally selling cars and parts to the north.

He tasted the simple, unpretentious joy of it.

Just as he was entering his second spring, disaster struck. While inspecting in Russia, he tried to learn Russian with some Russian girls. His talent wasn't enough, and he ended up dying.

He was reborn back to his university days, when he was still studying at Petroleum University (East China).

"Fellow students, full of youthful spirit and vigor."

In this life, Shen Shanden wanted to live a different kind of life.

In the future, concert tickets would sell out instantly, and museums, zoos, aquariums, and science centers would be inaccessible without advance reservations.

Even the library would be full, and train tickets during Golden Week would be impossible to get.

While foreign countries were in turmoil, the entire nation was enthusiastically seeking entertainment. Combined with the highly developed internet, previously overlooked and uninteresting things were being rediscovered.

And movies, which were naturally suited for social interaction, were nowhere to be seen.

Audiences' feelings towards movies had moved past disappointment, despair, anger, and other emotions; they simply didn't care anymore.

When movies were mentioned, people didn't think of special effects or stories, but rather what mission these people were on now. Due to the stereotype of the film industry, audiences had developed their own stereotypes.

Unless a movie could clearly tell the audience: first, that the movie was competent, then that it aimed to serve the audience rather than educate them, and furthermore, that it was not influenced by Western narratives.

Only then could it break through.

Similar to Nezha 2, which featured green cards, soul-devouring pills, dollar signs, and a defiant gaze back.

Nezha 2 wasn't that special. In 2017, during Wolf Warrior 2, Yu Qian played a role that satirized a certain group.

In essence, it didn't need to be exceptionally brilliant, just "normal," in line with normal economic and industrial development levels.

But even that couldn't be achieved.

The entire film industry had created a huge barrier between itself and the audience, a barrier created by the filmmakers themselves.

Filmmakers were also suffering the consequences of this.

Previously, competent commercial films could gross over a billion yuan, but now they only earned a few hundred million because audiences were unwilling to engage with the films.

Only a movie that broke through stereotypes could win the audience back.

When Nezha 2 was a hit, no one took it seriously, even thinking it took away box office revenue. By the time they realized, movies that didn't break through stereotypes were simply not worth the audience's attention.

It wasn't that the audience lacked needs; on the contrary, their cultural needs were extremely strong, but they had been disappointed too many times.

Therefore, Shen Shanden made a decision that went against his parents and family: he would not enter the system.

After graduating from university in 2005, he enrolled in the management department graduate program at Beijing Film Academy.

He didn't need to be exceptionally brilliant in this circle; he just needed to produce some normal works.

Shen Shanden pulled on a pair of underwear and got out of bed.

He liked to sleep naked.

His nostrils filled with the scent unique to the northern heating season, a mixture of dust and overly dry air.

Besides the bed, the bedroom contained a wardrobe and a desk. There were no theoretical books on the desk; instead, scripts for Embroidered Spring Blade: The Sun and Moon Reopen were scattered about, along with several printed articles.

Beside them stood an old CRT monitor, its bulky case silent because it was turned off.

After washing his face, Shen Shanden was truly awake.

As Shen Shanden finished his morning routine and walked out of the bathroom, he saw Da Mimi entering with breakfast.

Da Mimi urged him to eat quickly, "I bought steamed buns and soy milk. Take me to school first; I have to rehearse for the annual performance class."

While they were eating breakfast, there was a knock on the door.

"Who is it?" Da Mimi asked curiously.

Shen Shanden replied, "It might be Xiao Zhou."

"I'll go change," Da Mimi said, flustered, and went into the bedroom.

Opening the door, she saw it was indeed Zhou Qifeng.

Zhou Qifeng was in his first year of graduate studies, a junior under the same advisor as Shen Shanden.

He was going to China Film today for a meeting and had asked Shen Shanden to help him run errands.

Entering the house, Zhou Qifeng felt a lot warmer, rubbing his hands. "Senior Brother, Sister-in-law, I'm a bit excited. I can't believe I'm going to meet Han Sanping with you."

Their research focused on film industry management. Han Sanping was expected to officially take over as the head of China Film this year, and even now, he was in charge of business restructuring, asset integration, and property rights reform.

Those who understood knew the immense power involved.

Zhou Qifeng sincerely admired his senior brother; he was truly amazing.

"Come eat together," Da Mimi said, pleased by the term "Sister-in-law," and invited him to the table.

Zhou Qifeng said he had already eaten. "Senior Brother, have you prepared all your materials?"

Shen Shanden wasn't as optimistic as him. "It's far from a done deal. A project worth hundreds of millions, the chances of approval are very low."

Da Mimi, drinking soy milk, choked. "Hundreds of millions? I, I didn't know?"

"See, it was right for me not to tell you," Shen Shanden teased.

Zhou Qifeng was quite confident. "Senior Brother, I think yours is much better than A Night to Remember or The Promise."

Da Mimi, disregarding the presence of an outsider, leaned in. "Tell me quickly, can you get me the female lead role?"

"We'll talk if it happens."

Shen Shanden was very cautious. "Don't tell anyone. There might be a slim chance, but if you say anything, it'll be gone."

Having lived two lives, how could he not know the difficulties involved?

Getting an opportunity to meet Han Sanping was already incredibly difficult, and it was all because of an article he wrote that caught the man's eye.

Two weeks prior, during the peak of the New Year's film season, Shen Shanden had written a critical essay that caused quite a stir in academic circles and even beyond.

The Crisis of Chinese Cinema Under the Wave of Globalization

The turn of the year should have been a time for summing up achievements and looking forward to the future.

However, looking back at the China Film Market in 2006, especially in the realm of historical epics, once considered the "pillar" of the industry, a chilling atmosphere prevailed.

Although Zhang Yimou's Curse of the Golden Flower had decent domestic box office returns, Chen Kaige's The Promise and Feng Xiaogang's A Night to Remember both suffered a double blow to their reputation and market performance.

Even more worrying was that these three annual blockbusters, which gathered top domestic resources and represented different factions—China Film, the Beijing Circle, and the Northwest Circle—were all met with a cold reception in overseas markets, particularly in Europe and America, with almost no profit.

This was not an isolated incident.

It was a dangerous tipping point.

It signaled that the "Oriental spectacle + Western narrative" historical epic model, which began with Brotherhood of Blades and reached its climax with Zhang Yimou's Hero, had reached the end of its road in overseas markets.

The once glorious "historical epics" had now become a Damocles sword hanging over Chinese cinema.

China Film's blockbuster strategy was in peril.

Where did the crisis come from?

Fundamentally, we were facing a highly mature and aggressive opponent—Hollywood.

Their operational models, capital strength, and global distribution networks were far beyond what our nascent industry could compare to.

Many colleagues, including some decision-makers, seemed to have overestimated the "friendliness" of overseas markets towards Chinese films and underestimated the brutality of market competition.

This was by no means an ideological siege, but naked, pure commercial competition!

Hollywood understood this well: they were happy to initially accept works with "exotic charm," cultivate specific audiences, and establish a degree of market dependency, as with historical epics.

Once the time was ripe, for example, when Chinese films became overly reliant on this overseas "fertile ground" and invested heavily expecting returns, they could easily tighten their grip.

With the cooperation of the media and a little "guidance" from film critics to create public opinion that "Chinese blockbusters are outdated and boring," coupled with some manipulation in distribution, they could effectively cut off the market, plunging Chinese production companies, highly dependent on overseas revenue, into a crisis of broken capital chains.

This was "closing the door to beat the dog" on the commercial battlefield.

Simple, efficient, and low-cost.

With a huge potential market of 1.3 billion people, how could Hollywood be willing to give it up?

Their goal had always been dominance, not sharing.

In contrast, our film industry and practitioners appeared so naive in the face of globalization!

Overly reliant on the "overseas blockbuster" model.

Betting everything on the illusory box office in Europe and America, ignoring the most fundamental cornerstone: Chinese audiences and the domestic Chinese market.

The industry's thinking was immature.

We lacked a mature system and risk diversification mechanisms to cope with international market competition.

Once a blockbuster failed overseas and the domestic box office suffered even a slight setback, it would be a disaster.

The "blockbuster strategy" pushed by Mr. Han Sanping had good intentions, but its single-minded reliance made it extremely vulnerable to risks.

The practitioners were also naive.

Their expectations for overseas markets were too idealistic, and they lacked vigilance and countermeasures against Hollywood's competitive tactics.

When The Promise, A Night to Remember, and Curse of the Golden Flower failed to replicate their overseas success, we were left helpless, lacking the ability to adjust in a timely and effective manner.

The public outcry director Chen Kaige faced due to The Promise, the laughter triggered by Ge You's line "Too cruel" in director Feng Xiaogang's A Night to Remember, and director Zhang Yimou's overseas setback with Curse of the Golden Flower all exposed a serious disconnect between creative expectations and market expectations, especially overseas.

The alarm bells have already rung!

The collective "stalling" in 2006 was a heavy slap in the face from the market.

It told us that over-reliance on overseas markets was tantamount to handing over our lifeline to others.

Hollywood's "shut the door and beat the dog" strategy could be implemented at any time; we must be clearly aware of this and be extremely vigilant.

But crisis, crisis, within crisis lies opportunity!

The blockbuster strategy is not without a way forward; in fact, this is the correct path for the blockbuster strategy.

Any industrial category begins with imitation, or rather, plagiarism. The rise of American and Japanese industry followed this path.

Costume epics started by imitating Hollywood's House of Flying Daggers. Now is the time to move from imitation to surpassing!

The blockbuster strategy should shift from "making movies" to "making good movies," achieving an upgrade in the film industry.

The foundation of Chinese cinema lies in serving Chinese audiences.

Our 1.3 billion compatriots are our most solid and reliable base.

The primary goal of filmmaking should be to satisfy the aesthetic needs, emotional needs, and cultural identity of domestic audiences. Without the foundation of domestic audiences, any ambition to "go global" is a castle in the sky.

Hero was able to kickstart the marketization process back then, relying first and foremost on the support of domestic audiences!

We urgently need to improve industrial maturity and risk resistance.

Explore diversified genre film development and support small to medium-budget, realistic domestic masterpieces. Establish a healthier market structure and investment and financing system, avoiding putting all our eggs in the "costume epic" basket, and certainly not betting solely on overseas markets.

The emergence of Crazy Stone was a surprise, proving that small to medium-budget films have great potential.

This would not have been possible without the support policies from China Film. In this regard, Mr. Han Sanping also deserves credit.

The setback of the costume epic model may well be an opportunity for Chinese cinema to return to its roots.

Director Paperclip is about to return with Paperclip, and the shift in its theme itself heralds a certain change.

Instead of chasing the broken "overseas blockbuster" illusion, we should settle down, deeply cultivate the domestic market, tell stories that Chinese audiences love to watch, and improve production quality and industrial resilience.

Only in this way, when Hollywood truly launches a full-scale assault, can we have a foothold and even find a sustainable international path truly belonging to Chinese cinema in the future.

Chinese cinema, it's time to wake up!

Rooted in the local, serving the audience, and striving for self-improvement are the only ways to resist the turbulent waves of globalization.

After finishing breakfast, Shen Shanden cleared the table.

Da Mimi slung a small bag over her shoulder, while Zhou Qifeng carried a canvas bag with the Beijing Film Academy logo, stuffed with a laptop and some supplementary materials.

Shen Shanden drove his champagne-colored sixth-generation Honda Accord, dropping Da Mimi off at school first.

The Jinxiu Zhichun Residential Area was very close to the school. Their place wasn't rented; they bought it from a family who was emigrating.

The previous owners sold several properties, not being optimistic about the prospects here.

Shen Shanden wasn't one to shy away from hardship. After his rebirth, he started writing songs and, with the help of ringtones, solved his material problems. He already had a car and a house in BJ.

However, he hadn't resolved the household registration issue yet. He could spend money on it, but Shen Shanden felt he would become a public figure in the future, so he preferred to wait.

Shen Shanden parked the car somewhere and walked with Zhou Qifeng to the Beijing Film Studio.

As soon as he got out of the car, a chill instantly enveloped him.

"It's cold."

The China Film building, which started construction in '05, wasn't finished yet, so China Film was still operating out of the Beijing Film Studio. The studio and Beijing Film Academy were only a step apart.

They had deep historical ties. The predecessor of Beijing Film Academy, the Central Film Bureau Performing Arts Institute, and Beijing Film Studio were both important founders of New China's film industry.

There were intricate connections in terms of curriculum development, talent cultivation, and practical creation.

The Beijing Film Studio was also one of the most important internship bases for Beijing Film Academy students.

This was also one of the reasons Shen Shanden could meet Han Sanping. Besides the articles he wrote and his status as a Beijing Film Academy student, the main reason was proximity.

Once the China Film building was completed, the difficulty would increase significantly.

Location changes many things. At the Beijing Film Studio, it was like being in a large compound; at the China Film building, the difference in official rank would immediately become apparent.

Entering the Beijing Film Studio, they found a gatehouse that wasn't grand but was highly representative of the industry, with a sign reading "China Film Group Corporation."

In the winter wind, the gate looked somewhat solemn.

After the security guard verified their information, they were allowed to pass.

On both sides of the road were bare plane trees with gnarled branches, like silent guards.

In the distance, they could see several square, old office buildings with slightly mottled exteriors, and several large, heavy-looking film studios, their numbers faintly discernible in white lettering on gray walls.

A few vans and box trucks with equipment company logos were parked on the roadside.

Beijing Film Studio, Production Department.

Shen Shanden waited until half-past ten, having waited for two hours, and finally met Han Sanping, a thin old man exuding authority without anger.

"Director," Shen Shanden jogged over to greet him.

Currently, Han Sanping was not only the Vice Chairman and Deputy General Manager of China Film but also the Director of Beijing Film Studio. This was his stronghold, and Beijing Film Studio was the core production unit of China Film.

A person's status wasn't just about their position, but also about timing.

If it were after 2012, after Lost in Thailand, the position of China Film Chairman, with the same title, would have less power.

Because Lost in Thailand signified that Chinese cinema had escaped its life-or-death crisis, without such immense external pressure, that position wouldn't hold the power to integrate all forces within Chinese cinema.

But in early 2007, at a time when historical epics were in precarious decline and Hollywood was casting a covetous eye, with Chinese cinema at a critical juncture, Han Sanping had the ability to mobilize all market-related forces in Chinese cinema.

Han Sanping jokingly remarked to a high-ranking official in the production department, "This kid is like a fortune teller. He first gave me a 'bad luck' omen, and if I don't listen to him, it seems like things won't work out."

Shen Shanden immediately said, "Director, I support the blockbuster strategy, but historical epics have reached a tipping point. Our three major directors have failed, and the Hong Kong directors are already defeated. Although John Woo is an internationally renowned director, he's also a broken soldier and absolutely cannot withstand the crisis facing historical epics."

"If we, the new generation of filmmakers, don't carry the future of historical epics, this genre will be finished!"

Han Sanping's heart stirred, but he said, "You sound just like your advisor, speaking with such boldness. We and Hong Kong are one family."

Shen Shanden adopted a posture of receiving instruction.

Settling into the office, Han Sanping didn't waste time. "Alright, let's talk about Brotherhood of Blades."

His desire to meet Shen Shanden was due to multiple considerations. One was that Shen Shanden was a student of the Director of the Management Department at Beijing Film Academy, making him somewhat of a junior. Then there was Shen Shanden's industry article, which had touched him.

The most important point was that Shen Shanden was sensible, not seeking favors through administrative channels or leveraging connections at Beijing Film Studio – though perhaps those avenues were closed to him anyway.

Instead, he brought a film script for "Industrial Upgrading of Historical Epics." After it was reviewed by the production department, it was found to be quite interesting.

In such a situation, Han Sanping didn't mind meeting him.

He truly needed young directors like Ning Hao to emerge now, directors who were capable and willing to make commercial films.

Shen Shanden presented a PPT, introducing the Brotherhood of Blades project. This Brotherhood of Blades was Embroidered Spring Blade: The Sun and Moon Reopen, completely different from the Brotherhood of Blades of his previous life.

The script's setting was not in the Chongzhen era, but focused on the period when the Ming Dynasty was established.

"Historical epics, whether by our three major directors or Hong Kong directors, have only scratched the surface. The 'historical' aspect in historical epics is merely the exterior; the interior is history."

"Films that currently use 'Eastern spectacle + Western core' have lost their most important asset. Historical epics should be closely tied to history, especially to enduring dynasties like the Qin, Han, Tang, and Ming."

"Esteemed leaders should also be aware of Hollywood's superhero films and successful franchises. In my opinion, historical epics focusing on great dynasties are equivalent to sequels of successful films."

"Because our audience is familiar with these dynasties and their historical figures. Unfortunately, our production standards haven't been able to match this. This is the significance of the industrial upgrading of historical epics!"

"With Chinese costumes, embedding the Chinese spirit, it appears to be a grand production but is actually low-risk. Combined with the Director's blockbuster strategy, sharing risks across the entire industry from investment, production, to distribution further reduces production risks."

"It appears to be a grand production with a large investment, but in reality, it's low-risk and high-reward."

"The key lies in the soul of historical epics, meaning the core, which must also be ours."

Upon hearing this, Han Sanping and the leaders of the production department were all shaken.

For those in the know, this understanding alone was quite remarkable.

Shen Shanden continued, "For the story of Brotherhood of Blades, I want to use the characters as a starting point, like a war correspondent, to depict the era of the late Yuan and early Ming dynasties."

"Chinese civilization has been in decline since the An Lushan Rebellion in the Tang Dynasty. This continuous decline has lasted for six hundred years, ten cycles, far exceeding the period from the end of the Eastern Han to the establishment of the Tang Dynasty. By the end of the Yuan Dynasty, under the tax farming system, the elite collectively degenerated, and it was evident that civilization was on the verge of collapse, about to enter its coffin."

"And Zhu Yuanzhang was the most powerful upward trend that rebounded from the bottom, stopping the decline of the aging and decaying Chinese civilization and pushing it upwards. The Ming Dynasty exhibited a grandeur far more magnificent than that of the Han Dynasty, when Chinese civilization was in its youth!"

"To bring China from an old man on the verge of death back to vigorous adulthood, initiating a new cycle of upward momentum, Zhu Yuanzhang was the soaring upward line at the bottom."

"I don't want criticism, I don't want division, I don't want vilification, I don't want cynicism. I only want a new world where the sun and moon reopen!"

"With the sun and moon reopening in the Great Ming, we will reopen a realm for historical epics, creating our unique historical blockbusters!"

In his previous life, historical epics, along with the decline of the three major directors, had essentially ended.

Logically speaking, the trend had passed.

However, Shen Shanden believed the trend had not passed; it was simply that the production standards and industry practitioners couldn't meet the audience's needs.

If there was no trend, he would create one.

No one supports my ambition to reach the clouds, so I will tread through the snow to the mountain peak!

As Shen Shanden articulated the film's theme, the office fell into a stunned silence.

Everyone was astonished!

Han Sanping's eyes lit up. A grand theme and lofty vision – this was the blockbuster he envisioned!