assistirfilmes Chapter 105 Full Operation
Chapter 105 Full Operation
Chapter 105 Full Operation
"Wait a minute—" Fred seemed to have been suddenly struck on the head, staring at the smiling young man beside him for a long time before letting out a wry smile: "God, after going through so much with you, I almost forgot about this—" He slapped his forehead: "Your real job is actually a screenwriter! A screenwriter who can write a top-notch script like 'Enter the Dragon'!"
In the subconscious mind of this Warner executive, Qin Han had long been labeled as an "Eastern prophet," a "financial sniper," or even a "politician."
The only thing that stands out is the original identity as a "screenwriter," which seems rather insignificant now.
"What did you write this time?" Fred's eyes instantly lit up with anticipation. "Is it another kung fu movie like 'Enter the Dragon'? Or something else?"
Seeing Fred's strange expression, Qin Han laughed, a hint of mystery in his eyes: "No, Fred. I didn't write this story."
"You didn't write it?"
"It was written by a friend of mine. I only gave some suggestions; the soul of the script belongs to him." Qin Han looked at the villa area getting closer and closer ahead: "Don't worry, you'll meet him when we get home. He's a very interesting big guy."
The car slowly drove into the red and white villa, and as soon as it came to a stop, the villa's gate was pushed open.
"Master! Mr. Li!"
A small, thin figure rushed out; it was George Russell, whom we hadn't seen in a long time.
Behind him stood Renée Russo, dressed casually in an apron, and Sylvester Stallone with droopy eyes and a goofy grin.
"Welcome home!" Renee's smile seemed especially warm in the evening breeze. She stepped forward and took the coat from Qin Han's hand, her eyes showing not only respect for her boss but also joy at seeing her loved one return safely.
After a brief exchange of pleasantries and hugs, everyone went into the living room.
The room was filled with the aroma of roasted meat, and the long-lost sense of home made Qin Han and Li Xiaolong feel relaxed.
"Alright, Sly." Qin Han didn't rush to take his seat, but looked at Stallone: "Bring out your revised script. Mr. Fred is Hollywood's best buyer; whether you can impress him depends on you."
Stallone immediately rushed into his room, took out the script he had painstakingly revised, and handed it to Fred with trembling hands.
"Sir, this is my script, Rocky."
Fred raised an eyebrow and took the heavy stack of documents.
As Warner Bros.' top producer, he reads at least eight or ten scripts every day, most of which are thrown into the trash as soon as he opens the first page.
But since it was Qin Han who solemnly recommended it, he naturally dared not neglect it.
He settled into a comfortable position on the sofa, took his glasses out of his suit pocket, put them on, and turned to the first page.
A third-rate boxer from the bottom rungs of Philadelphia? A petty thug collecting loan shark debts for the mob?
This kind of setting was not new in Hollywood in the 1970s.
But as he read on, his posture changed. He slowly sat up straight, his brows furrowed, his gaze fixed intently on the words.
He saw the man in the cold storage room wildly punching frozen meat;
I saw that lonely soul living in a dilapidated apartment, talking to his pet turtle;
I also saw the figure running in the morning light, rushing up the steps of the art museum even though his lungs felt like they were about to burst.
In particular, the sense of confusion and oppression that permeated the script, as well as the desperate cry to prove "I am not trash," struck Fred's heart like a series of heavy blows.
"call-
—
A full hour passed before he closed the script and let out a long sigh of relief.
He took off his glasses, rubbed his slightly sore eyes, and looked up with a look of shock in his eyes.
"Unbelievable—" he murmured to himself, "This is amazing—this is simply—amazing!"
He abruptly turned to Qin Han: "Qin! I have to admire your vision, and your friend's creative ability! This story—it was born for America today!"
"Look at the state of society now! The quagmire of the Vietnam War, damned inflation, and those lost soldiers returning from the battlefield unable to find jobs!"
Fred waved his arms excitedly, "All the working-class people in America feel like this Rocky, like a piece of trash abandoned by the times!"
"They desperately need this catharsis! They desperately need someone to tell them that even if they can't win the game, they should lose with their heads held high! As long as they stand until the very last moment, that's a victory!"
"This movie is going to be a huge hit! I'd stake my life on it!"
Fred stood up, strode over to Qin Han, his eyes burning with a murderous intent: "We want this script! Name your price! We can sign it right away!"
Qin Han, holding a teacup, leaned against the fireplace, a faint smile playing on his lips: "Fred, don't rush into talking about money. We have an additional condition for this script."
"What are the conditions?" Fred waved his hand dismissively. "Anything is negotiable! Do you want to retain the screenwriting credits?"
Still want a share of the box office revenue? That's not a problem!
"The lead role in this movie, Rocky Balboa, must be played by him—" Qin Han pointed to Sylvester Stallone, who was standing to the side looking nervous, "Sylvester Stallone himself."
"What?" Fred was stunned.
He turned his head and re-examined the burly man in the cheap T-shirt.
Previously, he only saw the other person as a talented but down-on-his-luck screenwriter, but now he had to see things from the male protagonist's perspective.
Indeed, this face is quite unique.
His drooping eyes carried an innate melancholy and dejection, and his slurred English perfectly suited the image of a struggling boxer, all set against his powerful physique—
"His appearance is fine, you could even say it suits him perfectly." Fred stroked his chin, his professional instincts kicking in to assess the risks. "But, cast him as the lead? A Warner Bros. A-list production, and you're putting a complete newcomer in the lead role?"
"Young man, what kind of acting have you done before?" Fred asked tentatively, "Even a supporting role in a TV series, or a stage play?"
Stallone's face flushed red instantly, all the way down to the roots of his neck.
He lowered his head, stammered for a long time, and finally managed to squeeze out a sentence like a mosquito's buzz: "I acted in—I acted in one. It was called—Italian Stallion."
"The Italian Stallion? That's not—cough cough cough—"
Fred coughed violently, nearly choking on his own saliva.
He looked at Stallone with the eyes of someone looking at an alien, then at Qin Han, and finally collapsed helplessly onto the sofa.
"God—I've seen that movie. At—at some late-night videotape party." Fred rubbed his temples, looking utterly hopeless. "Qin, you're not kidding, are you?"
"That's a Category III film! And it's the really hardcore kind!"
In the 1970s, the United States was at the height of the "sexual revolution" movement.
With the proliferation of hippie culture and anti-war sentiment, adult films have, to some extent, gained mainstream acceptance.
Even films like "Deep Throat" can be screened in mainstream theaters and spark major social discussions.
Many of the later big stars had to strip naked on film sets during this period just to make a living.
But this doesn't mean that mainstream studios are willing to take the risk.
"Fred, you said it yourself, the social atmosphere has changed." Qin Han calmly walked over and added an ice cube to Fred's glass: "What did Marlon Brando do in 'Last Tango in Paris'? Everyone knows the answer."
"That's art! That's Brando!" Fred jumped up. "But this kid—this kid's playing a stallion in a pure porn movie!"
"If he were the lead, what would the media write? 'The male lead in Warner Bros.' new film is a porn star'? That would drive Ashley crazy! Those conservative film critics would tear this movie to shreds!"
"He was forced by life's hardships." Qin Han's voice was steady and powerful. "Moreover, it was precisely because of this struggle at the bottom that he was able to write Rocky and play Rocky so well."
"Fred, look into his eyes. That hunger, that desire to prove himself, is something those pampered Hollywood stars can't fake."
"What this movie sells is its authenticity."
Fred looked into Stallone's pleading yet stubborn eyes, and his mental defenses crumbled slightly.
The script was so good that he couldn't bear to let it go.
"Qin, I admit you have a point. But—" Fred sighed, "I can't make that decision. Casting someone who's made those kinds of films as the lead is too risky."
"I'll take the script to Ashley. With your Hans Films backing us up, and the success of 'Enter the Dragon,' perhaps—I mean perhaps—Ashley will agree to take the risk."
Qin Han saw through his thoughts, and his smile deepened.
"That's alright, Fred. You can ask Ashley, but I'm only giving him one night to think about it."
"If I don't receive a positive reply, then—tomorrow morning at ten o'clock, I will go to the Black Tower at Universal Studios to visit Mr. Sidney."
"If Warner Bros. doesn't make it, I'll give this script to Mr. Sidney."
"What?! Universal?!" Fred jumped up from the sofa.
The box office miracle of *The Big Boss* made Universal a fortune, which already made many within Warner Bros. If such a great script were to be snatched away by Universal—
"No! Absolutely not!" Fred grabbed the script and hugged it tightly to his chest. "This has to be a Warner Bros. project!"
"I'm going back right now! Even if I have to drag Ashley out of bed, I'm going to make sure this is settled tonight!"
He grabbed his coat and rushed out, but turned back at the door and yelled menacingly, "You wait! Don't call Sidney! Don't you dare!"
"Also, I'll contact Bill tonight. Stay tuned for my message!"
The next morning, Universal Studios.
"Qin! My friend! Welcome to my new office!"
Sidney Sinberg stood at the door, beaming, to greet Qin Han's arrival.
Compared to his arrogant attitude two months ago, his current enthusiasm is almost overwhelming for Qin Han.
"Congratulations, Mr. Sidney." Qin Han walked into the office, which was clearly twice as spacious as before, and his gaze swept over the brand-new nameplate on the desk—Executive Vice President.
"No, I should be thanking you." Sidney poured Qin Han a cup of coffee himself, unable to suppress his smile: "Look at this number."
He shoved a financial statement in front of Qin Han: "The final box office forecast for 'The Big Boss' is in, and it's very likely to reach $1200 million! This is a number that Universal never even dreamed of!"
"Even if we factor in the maximum administrative costs, this film can still generate nearly 600 million in profit. After deducting the cut taken by those bloodsucking theater chains, Universal's net profit will be close to 400 million!"
"And our production cost was—zero!"
"When those old guys on the board saw the reports, their dentures almost fell out!"
He leaned back comfortably in his executive chair, making no attempt to hide his smugness: "It's precisely because of this achievement that Mr. Lou Wasserman has officially nominated me as his successor. Once he retires, this black tower—"
"It's my decision that matters."
"Without 'The Big Boss' and without the cooperation of Han's Film Studio, I could not have taken this step so smoothly."
Qin Han listened with a smile to the confession of this future Hollywood tycoon, thinking to himself: The wheels of history are indeed still rolling along their predetermined path.
Sidney's rise to power is definitely a major boon for Hans Films.
After all, the friendship shown in times of need is far more solid than the friendship shown in times of prosperity.
"It is a great thing for us at Hans Films that Mr. Sidney has officially taken over Universal."
Qin Han put down his coffee cup and adopted a serious demeanor: "However, I have some breaking news: last night, Ted Ashley booked a new script with me, offering a very high price and even willing to make huge concessions on casting."