Chapter 42: The Realm of the Wealthy Filmmaker

Fortunately, "The Return of the Condor Heroes" was an old drama that had already been adapted five or six times, so the entire cast could save at least a month of time familiarizing themselves with the plot and preparing.

If it were a brand-new script, a high-budget, 40-episode martial arts drama with heavy special effects, such meticulous refinement would require at least three months of preparation before filming could even begin.

Yet, Gu Cheng obtained the adaptation rights in mid-August, completed casting by early September, and was ready to start filming by October.

The pace was lightning fast.

After casting, Gu Cheng generously treated the entire cast to a lavish dinner that very day, personally toasting each actor. Upon joining the production, everyone even received red envelopes as a good-luck token.

As for the backup actors who participated but weren’t selected, industry norms dictated that they might receive a small stipend for travel expenses at best, which was already considered very generous. Most production teams wouldn’t even cover that—after all, it’s like going to a job interview at a company and not getting reimbursed if you don’t get hired.

Gu Cheng’s approach was more considerate than anyone else’s.

Everyone who showed up at least had their travel expenses covered, was treated to a good meal, and received a red envelope. Those who couldn’t return the same day were provided hotel accommodations in Qiantang, allowing them some time to relax and enjoy themselves. The accommodation costs were charged to the official account of Legendary Pictures.

Each backup actor felt respected by Legendary Pictures and showed great respect to Liu Hui and Lin Zhiling, who handled these arrangements.

Gu Cheng’s conduct was well noted by all. His generosity toward the backups inspired several young actors who had been turned down to consider signing long-term contracts with agencies like Legendary Pictures or Chengpin Audio-Visual.

Gu Cheng entrusted this matter entirely to Lin Zhiling, instructing her to sign a few reliable talents. After all, contracts with minor actors didn’t cost much; the cost of maintaining them was comparable to a punctuality bonus at a certain popular Chinese web novel platform, and there was no need to pay social insurance.

Besides the backups, several actors who had only acted in one project or were complete newcomers also tried to sell themselves cheaply to Gu Cheng.

For example, Yang Mi and Sun Li were both signed only to the lowest tier scout contracts by their original headhunters. Their agencies guaranteed no resources or fixed salaries. They only received a split of 60/40 for pay when jobs were found, with the agency taking 40% as a commission.

At professional universities like the China Academy of Drama or Beijing Film Academy, there were even agencies run by teachers’ connections that exploited students with these low-value scout contracts. Liu Hui had been able to find Yang Mi and Sun Li before filming by consulting a long-time partner agency with ties to the Beijing Film Academy.

Such artists represented the lowest rungs of society. Many good-looking actors or actresses signed these contracts simply by accepting cards handed out by scouts on the street.

Actors under these loose contracts could leave at any time as long as they didn’t disrupt ongoing projects they had accepted.

Thus, before filming even began, Yang Mi and Sun Li had already signed long-term contracts selling their services.

Their agreements had a significant impact on other actors with slightly better reputations.

For instance, Jiang Xin and Yang Rui were only marginally better off than Yang Mi and Sun Li. They had each acted in a CCTV drama and had already switched agencies once. Although their contracts weren’t restrictive long-term ones, nor did they receive a base salary, their current agencies at least guaranteed them a minimum of one drama every two years.

Without any guaranteed resources from Gu Cheng’s team, Jiang Xin and Yang Rui naturally wouldn’t jump ship easily.

As for Liu Feifei, who had powerful backing and solid connections, there was no question of her switching agencies.

This ecosystem—where big fish eat little fish—is the natural order in the entertainment industry. There was nothing surprising about it.

…

Throughout September, the actors went home to study the scripts and immerse themselves in their roles. Everyone waited for the storyboard assistant director Guan Hu to complete the storyboard script, who was the busiest person that month.

Gu Cheng also spent two to three hours daily reviewing Guan Hu’s work, comparing it to the original script to roughly understand the storyboard creation process. He didn’t want to be ridiculed later for holding the executive director title yet not understanding how storyboards were made.

Liu Hui, responsible for casting and production affairs, was equally busy—though the roles had been cast, the real work was just beginning.

Since this was a martial arts drama, the requirements for props and special effects were quite high. The casting assistant director, who was essentially the “procurement manager,” had far more responsibilities than for an ordinary urban romance drama.

Lighting and cinematography were easy to arrange and settled in a day.

Props and special effects, however, were a nightmare and consumed almost all of Liu Hui’s remaining time in September.

From her university days interning in directing, assisting well-established seniors in script supervision and production management, to over three years of casting experience after graduation, Liu Hui had accumulated five or six years as an assistant or assistant director. She was supposed to be quite experienced in selecting prop and special effects suppliers.

But it was precisely that experience that led her right into a trap.

Given the state of technology in 2002, if a domestic production wanted to shoot a martial arts drama with quality special effects, their benchmark was basically the recently released "Wind and Cloud."

Although Gu Cheng said he was unimpressed with "Wind and Cloud’s" effects, Liu Hui didn’t grasp the gap behind that word “unimpressed,” and thus fell into a pitfall.

After all, communication between people varies in depth of understanding. It’s like a famous anecdote often cited in American journalism:

The editor-in-chief of the Norton News told reporters, “We are a local paper and want to develop our own character. Don’t compete with The New York Times or major internet portals for big news; focus more on local news.”

The reporters probably only got the gist that local news should be emphasized more.

It wasn’t until the editor-in-chief reiterated, “If there isn’t enough local news, I’d rather publish the telephone directory of our county. That way, the paper’s sales will be higher than if we ran big national stories, because every county resident will buy the paper and check carefully if their name qualifies for publication,”

that the reporters fully understood his obsession with local news—even to the point of preferring a phone book over outside news.

Liu Hui’s initial proposal to Gu Cheng was to hire the same special effects company that did "Wind and Cloud," though with some minor upgrades. Both the video modeling and the audio synthesizers were somewhat improved.

But Gu Cheng tore the plan apart.

“I don’t accept this technical solution! How can you use computer-generated textures directly on the final 3D models? 3D animation and motion capture are only for handling model movements. The surface textures cannot come straight from computer synthesis! We must pursue the utmost realism! If you make Yang Guo’s ‘Condor Brother’ look like the fiery Qilin in ‘Wind and Cloud’ with all those fake lighting effects, I won’t accept it.”

Liu Hui was frustrated, feeling Gu Cheng was impossible to please. “Then you want it like the Li Ruotong version, with a fur-covered prop condor and a real stunt double inside, but you also complain the movements look more human than a real condor.”

“Exactly. I want the real movements of a condor, the props to have real condor textures. And Yang Guo’s Heavy Iron Sword—are you seriously going to use some thin hollow toy made of sheet metal? How can that pass as a prop? You’ve completely ruined Yang Guo’s proud and domineering aura! I want the sword’s texture to be that of real tungsten-iridium alloy, dark and heavy-looking! During filming, we can use a lighter sword, but the sound effects and the texture applied must be of a genuine heavy blade.”

Liu Hui was nearly in tears from Gu Cheng’s exacting demands. “That’s impossible. Mr. Gu, please don’t be so unrealistic; understand the market conditions first.”

Gu Cheng thought it necessary to educate his team. “Liu Jie, you should know about cutting-edge technology. The New Zealand director Peter Jackson used this technique in ‘The Lord of the Rings’ which came out late last year. They actually handcrafted the weapons, scanned the surface textures and glossiness into a digital material library, then after motion capture and modeling, applied the scanned textures back onto the models. I heard the December release, ‘The Lord of the Rings 2: The Two Towers,’ will have even better texture effects!”

Liu Hui was dizzy from the explanation. “You want to create all those heavy, unwieldy props just to scan their surface textures? Mr. Gu, we’re just shooting a TV drama. How can you benchmark our special effects against ‘The Lord of the Rings,’ which cost $300 million and won 11 Oscars?”

“Peter Jackson made 40,000 props just to ‘contribute surface textures’ and silicone dummy human props. I’m not asking for that many. We’re just doing a martial arts drama. Yang Guo’s Heavy Iron Sword, Little Dragon Girl’s Silver Chain and Golden Bell, the Golden Wheel Dharma King’s five-ring weapon—these have to meet the standards set by ‘The Lord of the Rings.’

I’m not asking for much. They made 40,000 extremely detailed props; I only need 40, plus some silicone dummies—since domestic censorship is strict on blood and gore, we won’t need too many. Peter Jackson spent $300 million making the film; I’m only adding 3 million RMB extra to produce a batch of real weapons props. That’s doable, right? If you need another 5 million for 3D modeling and refinements, just let me know. If you have good ideas and can explain them clearly, we can add more budget.”

When "Meteor Garden" was filmed, the total cost per episode was only around 200,000 RMB.

Nearly two years later, with rising prices and the spread of computer-generated post-production techniques, plus the fact that "The Return of the Condor Heroes" was a martial arts drama, Liu Hui’s initial budget was 500,000 RMB per episode—after all, the actors’ fame and pay were higher than those in the earlier works like "Meteor Garden" or "Golden Powder." By comparison, last year Zhao Wei and Lin Xinru’s pay for single episodes in "Deep Love and Misty Rain" neared 100,000 RMB per episode; this year in "Wind and Cloud," He Rundong earned 60,000 RMB per episode playing Bu Jingyun.

It was clear that Gu Cheng’s spending on special effects and props far exceeded the usual proportion for traditional domestic martial arts dramas. The total budget might be overrun by 50% and still fall short.