Chapter Thirty-Three: A Discussion on Mainstream Films

To find out what exactly "Life and Death Decision" was about, Gu Zhi specifically called the office at China Film, inquiring in detail with Liu Qi, and only then did he piece together a general understanding.

"Life and Death Decision" was produced by the Shanghai Film Studio, and its central theme was "anti-corruption and upholding integrity," making it a classic example of the main melody genre rooted in social realism from earlier years.

Logically, such a work with a heavy, realistic theme would almost never achieve such outstanding box office results. Even Feng Xiaogang's New Year comedies at the time were making less than fifty million at the box office, so it was hard to imagine "Life and Death Decision" actually breaking records, passing the hundred million mark.

Later, through Liu Qi’s deliberate hints, Gu Zhi soon understood the real reason behind its success.

As a main melody anti-corruption film, for it to be so openly produced, there must have been government backing, granting it all the necessary permissions. Upon release, government agencies across the country would naturally respond to the call, organizing entire departments to attend screenings and absorb the spirit conveyed by the film.

It was likely due to this kind of official patronage that "Life and Death Decision" was forcibly pushed to the pinnacle of domestic cinema.

This was a familiar strategy in later years; almost every main melody film with government endorsement would receive the same treatment. The "Founding of a Republic" trilogy did so, as did "Operation Mekong," and the "Wolf Warrior" series was no different.

Gu Zhi had originally thought these tactics were only concocted in recent times, but it turned out they had begun as early as 2000.

Truly, certain methods are handed down through generations, enduring and unbroken.

However, he didn’t see this as a bad thing.

Main melody films are, after all, meant to promote and instill certain values—anti-corruption, integrity, anti-drugs, patriotism, and so on—values that, in essence, are beyond reproach.

Whether or not the general public accepts them, at the very least, those working in government are sustained by the state and supported by the government; it is their duty to accept and learn the values promoted by the authorities. Thus, it is perfectly reasonable for these departments to organize group viewings of main melody films.

It’s the same as being paid to do a job.

As for the audience, main melody films are not inherently unacceptable to regular moviegoers—provided one important condition is met: the film must be well-made.

At its core, a main melody film is still a film. Regardless of the values it espouses—be it mainstream ideology, anti-war sentiment, male chauvinism, or the inherent darkness of humanity—only if the film is of good quality will audiences accept it.

Take "The Godfather" trilogy, which tells the story of Italian-American mafia life. On the mainland, it’s clearly a gangster film, the kind no longer even permitted to be produced. Yet who hasn’t heard of "The Godfather"?

All three films are masterpieces; even if the third is slightly inferior, it still outclasses ninety percent of the world’s movies.

It’s a work that will be remembered by history, directly or indirectly influencing countless figures in film, and even touching the music industry. The Asian superstar Jay Chou’s song "In the Name of the Father" is a direct homage to "The Godfather."

Another example: the domestic film "Goodbye Mr. Loser." Not long after its release, it was harshly criticized for its values—disrespect for love, male chauvinism, and the protagonist’s questionable morals.

Yet, as a commercial comedy, its quality was beyond dispute. Its box office reached 1.441 billion, with audiences casting their votes in cash.

They couldn’t care less whether the values were good or bad, right or wrong; as long as the film was good and entertaining, they’d vote with their feet.

The same holds true for main melody films: if it’s well-made, there will always be a steady stream of support. If it’s poor, its reputation will collapse and the box office will plummet.

"Founding of the Army" cast a bunch of mediocre young idols and even brought in a director from Hong Kong who knew nothing about history. In terms of mainstream values, it was far more "orthodox" than contemporary "Wolf Warrior," but the result was a total rout—terrible reviews, mocked actors, and disastrous box office receipts.

So for any film, quality is paramount.

Yet this most crucial aspect is often ignored by domestic productions, and as time goes on, their box office performance lags ever further behind foreign imports.

Gu Zhi later researched box office figures for domestic films prior to 2000 and found that, compared to foreign blockbusters released at the same time in the mainland, there wasn’t much of a gap.

In 1997, Xie Jin’s "The Opium War" grossed seventy-two million, almost on par with "Jurassic Park" at seventy-two point one million; in 1999, "Sorry Baby" took forty-three million, surpassing "Star Wars: Episode I" in the same period.

This year, "The Matrix" has already been released in the mainland, but its box office is only seventeen million—handily defeated by "Life and Death Decision."

Now all eyes would be on the competition between "Mission Impossible 2," "A Sigh," and "The Butterfly Effect."

...

Today was a rare day off for Gu Zhi—otherwise, he wouldn’t have had the leisure to read the newspaper.

The rest of the crew wasn’t so lucky; Ning Hao had already taken the four lead actors to a special interview for "The Butterfly Effect" with Light Media’s "China Entertainment Report."

Typically, Gu Zhi would be an essential part of such an interview, but Light Media hadn’t invited him at all, only insisting that Liu Ye and Tang Wei be present.

This suited him perfectly; a bit of free time was just what he needed.

He could more or less guess Light Media’s intentions—they were probably looking to stir up rumors about Liu Ye and Tang Wei’s relationship.

If not for the fact that Gu Zhi was only seventeen and the current social climate didn’t permit the promotion of underage romances, the gossip would likely have been about him and Tang Wei.

After all, celebrity scandals and lurid news are always among the public’s greatest interests.

That morning, Gu Zhi read the newspaper at home, sparred with others on forums, checked reviews of his new book, and wrote two film reviews.

One was about "The Butterfly Effect," written from the perspective of an insider. He focused on the film’s highlights, played down its shortcomings, and avoided any spoilers.

Using this veiled style, the article appeared objective on the surface.

The other review was for "Mission Impossible 2," using the same approach but focusing on its flaws, mentioning its strengths only briefly, all while maintaining the appearance of objectivity.

At that time, Douban didn’t yet exist, so film reviews were generally posted in the film sections of major forums, where most of the users were movie enthusiasts who enjoyed writing reviews and exchanging viewing experiences.

Of course, the sharing of certain adult content from Japan was also inevitable.

Once finished, Gu Zhi posted both reviews across the various forums, then waited for them to gradually gain influence.

If he could attract even ten more people to see "The Butterfly Effect," these reviews would have done their job.

After finishing these tasks in the morning, he called his parents, then enjoyed a relaxing nap at noon. In the afternoon, after waking up, he set out to visit the major real estate centers along the Second Ring Road in the capital.

By now, he’d been in the capital for almost half a year and still hadn’t settled down.

He considered it carefully and decided to buy a place to live in the city.

In 2000, housing prices in the capital averaged less than four thousand per square meter. With the royalties from his three bestselling books, it was more than enough to buy a few apartments on the Second Ring.

The only question for Gu Zhi was whether to buy a smaller apartment in a good school district, or a larger, more ordinary flat.