Textual Research

Han Sanping's secretary, Liao Yun, had also come to inquire about it.

The project had been approved, but only by China Film Group. It still needed to be filed, undergo expert review, and then receive financial approval.

And filing with the broadcasting authorities required Shen Shanden's copyright authorization.

Compared to this era's lax awareness of copyright, Shen Shanden, as someone reborn into the past, understood its value far better.

The Grand Director had already registered copyright across the entire chain: films, television dramas, music, even costumes and design sketches for props like the Feiyu uniform. Anything that could be registered had been registered.

"If the film turns out poorly, my own losses would be a minor matter. I'm more afraid the studio director will be criticized. The director has already done so much for me that I'm deeply flattered. Please tell the director, Secretary Liao, that I, Shen Shanden, will put up my own money first and build the framework. Then China Film Group can come in."

Shen Shanden's answer was calm and unassuming.

"That way, President Han will face far less criticism within China Film Group." Han Sanping's secretary looked at Shen Shanden in a new light.

People were generous when spending public money, but few were generous when it came to their own.

It seemed Shen Shanden was not merely good with words. He truly could shoulder responsibility.

Hearing that, Shen Shanden realized the other man had misunderstood, but he did not expose it and simply let the misunderstanding stand.

"Secretary Tian, I want to invite several experts to serve as consultants. I'll need to borrow China Film Group's name."

After receiving permission.

Shen Shanden sent Zhou Qifeng to China Film Group to handle the formalities.

Before the team's structure had been established, he tried to avoid showing up at Beijing Film Studio.

He had heard some rumors from Yu Jianhong.

Shen Shanden had worked at a state-owned enterprise in his previous life and had seen plenty of absurd nonsense.

But the most important thing now was still building the team. Once that was done, the rest would resolve themselves.

Shen Shanden handed external liaison work and other errands to Zhou Qifeng, letting his junior handle them.

Shen Shanden threw himself into content creation.

When speaking with Han Sanping, he had given the story a certain artistic polish. The Grand Director had not been born from inspiration for Brotherhood of Blades.

At first, Shen Shanden had wanted to write a script and take it overseas to compete for awards.

But he was unwilling to touch realistic subjects, because he might win an award yet lose his future.

So he wrote a script about a eunuch emperor.

It was the story of a boy struck by disaster who entered the palace as a eunuch and, through a twist of fate, eventually became emperor.

One of ancient China's civilizational treasures, the Great Unification system: the emperor, supreme and utterly masculine, was played by a eunuch, the embodiment of softness and yin.

It was absolutely sensational, absolutely stigmatizing.

Wasn't it difficult for non-realistic subjects to win awards?

No need to worry. The Olympic Games opening ceremony would make its move.

The Olympic opening ceremony was a major cultural event, and the West would certainly find ways to obstruct it.

And The European Big Three film festivals were all ideological machines founded during the Cold War.

Even now, they still carried a heavy Cold War flavor.

In the West, where everything had to be political, subject matter was only a minor issue.

Besides, the West had mastered the art of declaring victory.

Not awarding realistic subjects only proved the festivals were open-minded in recognizing talent. That was win number one.

It showed that they could adapt at any moment within an established framework, demonstrating the flexibility of their system. That was win number two.

Before art, even a cold and rigid system had to yield. That was win number three.

In short, they had won so hard they were numb.

Shen Shanden could casually come up with three points like that.

Likewise, where there was winning, there was losing.

The Grand Director's critique showed that Eastern culture had serious problems. That was loss number one. The Grand Director receiving recognition from the halls of art meant it should be grateful. That was loss number two.

If he got a little lucky, the West might even link the traditional image of the East with eunuchs and feature Shen Shanden in various major Western newspaper rankings and reviews.

Wasn't that idea bold?

But later, Shen Shanden gave it up.

The sacrifice was simply too great.

If he had been reborn in the nineties, he would have had no choice. The domestic film industry had been depressed, and even film studios could not survive. They could only rely on overseas resources.

In the eighties, the gap between China and Europe and America had been huge, and earning foreign currency had been highly tempting.

If you were being kept, then forget about an independent personality.

And forget about art. Just obediently make what they liked.

Now it was 2007. Five years had passed since the cinema circuit reforms of 2002. The domestic market was gradually maturing, and China was the future.

Moreover, there were too many uncontrollable factors in overseas award competitions. Shen Shanden had no connections in that area. His mentor only had some connections in industry and policy research, and he was not close enough to the professors in the directing department with overseas ties to ask them for recommendations.

So if he wanted to compete for awards, he would have to contact the selectors himself and travel between film festivals to campaign.

By the time his preparations reached this stage, he was still hesitant.

He could choose to use only his graduate school years: prepare during his second year, campaign during his third, and consider it a win if he received an award. If not, then so be it.

But as his understanding deepened, Shen Shanden's perception took a certain blow.

After all, if he wanted to win awards, he could not do without basic image-building.

For overseas awards, whether it was the film itself or what the creators said, everything had to cater to Western narratives and make them feel as though they had won beyond measure.

Shen Shanden tried it and found that the sacrifice was too great.

He wanted to win!

Not being able to win was no different from killing him.

If he ended up branded with some label, he would be blacklisted from then on.

He was not one of the Children of high-ranking cadres. If he reached that point, his life would basically be over.

So Shen Shanden decisively ran away.

And he reached a conclusion: not even dogs would take the road of chasing overseas awards.

And if one wanted to enter the profession of directing, there were roughly three paths.

One was the domestic academic route: living off the public purse while cursing it.

One was chasing overseas awards: living off foreign funding while cursing them.

The third was facing the market and living off the support of the audience.

The domestic academic route was the first one Shen Shanden ruled out.

That road was controlled by the directing department.

Shen Shanden could only be considered a latecomer. He had studied film management, not directing, and was not part of the direct lineage.

Those professors and department heads had their own children, their friends' children, their lovers, and their disciples. There were too many monks and too little porridge.

Ning Hao, for example, had worked his way up from short films to feature films. He already had two decent narrative features, yet for Crazy Stone, China Film Group had to find funding for him, and even he could not take the youth director fund route. The money came from Hong Kong Island.

Those public funds had fixed quotas, one radish per pit. Even Han Sanping had no good solution.

The Grand Director was also taking the normal investment route. The youth director fund and the like had already allocated this year's funding. They could only apply next year, follow the procedures, and slowly wait within the process.

There seemed to be three paths, but for Shen Shanden, who had no background, there was really only one.

That was serving the audience and facing the market.

However, although he had abandoned the path of chasing overseas awards, that brief attempt had been like an accidental dive through a cesspit, leaving Shen Shanden with an unforgettable memory for life.

Practicing it in reverse was, in a sense, also immensely valuable experience.

After turning toward the path of serving the audience, Shen Shanden reset the plot of The Grand Director.

It changed from a fictional setting to one grounded in real history, set during the Jiajing era.

But because it had initially been aimed at overseas awards, flaws inevitably remained.

The Grand Director's first meeting for its core creative team.

They found an empty classroom at Beijing Film Academy.

"Textual Research!"

First, Shen Shanden wrote the two large words "Textual Research" on the blackboard.

"For a project, the most fundamental and important work is textual work. It requires little investment but yields great returns."

"So the most important work for The Grand Director right now is Textual Research: studying the words and putting effort into the script."

"Let the script return to its rightful place! Let it return to being the foundation of a drama! Screenwriters' talent and value should not be buried!"

"We have two teams. One is an offline team, while the other is an online team. Writers of popular web novels will serve as consultants on emotional tension, boosting catharsis, and martial arts settings."

"Later, Ming history experts will also join the team as historical consultants. Whether it is the literary script or the shooting script, I have only one requirement: smooth pacing and an insanely satisfying plot."

Shen Shanden laid out his requirements to the three editors assigned to the production.

The three screenwriters were all current students or recent graduates of the Central Academy of Drama or Beijing Film Academy, young people so green they seemed ready to drip.

He did not need extensive experience. He needed people who were smart, eager to prove themselves, willing to contribute, and possessed a certain degree of obedience and team spirit.

Shenzhen.

Wu Jing was recovering under a sun lamp. He had serious injuries, and after working for a while on Hong Kong Island, he had to rest. He was especially unable to tolerate humid conditions.

But today, a visitor from Beijing had brought him a letter.

Wu Jing stared at the envelope and froze.

"Do you want to understand the meaning of film? Do you want to truly stand tall on the big screen?"

"YES OR NO?"