Chapter Fourteen: Continued Expansion and Impact
The explosive success of "The Butcher in the Rainy Night" took many by surprise. Like a dark horse, it galloped straight into the film industry, filling several cinemas to capacity during prime time. Crowds cursed in the streets, unable to buy tickets, and newspapers devoted extensive coverage to the phenomenon, leaving many theaters regretting their earlier decisions.
“Ah Xu, they’ve already been waiting at the company for over an hour. When are we heading over?” Ji Mao asked anxiously, glancing at Yan Xu.
“What’s the rush? Let them wait a while longer. Back then, they didn’t give us a shred of respect. Now that the film’s making money, hmph, let them cool their heels,” Yan Xu replied leisurely, tidying up his clothes.
“I’m not the only one anxious. Big Brother just called to urge us. We’ve always done business together; we can’t let things get too strained,” Ji Mao insisted.
“Alright, we’ll go now.” Yan Xu was in high spirits. Once, they had dismissed his film, unwilling even to watch it. Now, finally, they were the ones coming to him, cap in hand.
“You’ve finally arrived!” Ninth Brother hurried over as soon as Yan Xu and Ji Mao stepped into the company.
“So this is Director Yan? Truly remarkable for someone so young!” Before Yan Xu could speak, a bespectacled man in his thirties stepped forward.
“And you are?” Yan Xu was clearly unaccustomed to such familiar strangers.
“I haven’t introduced myself yet. My surname is Liu; I’m the manager of Grand Illumination Cinema…”
“I’m the manager of XX Cinema…”
“I’m the manager of XX Cinema…”
“I’m the manager of XX Cinema…”
Before Liu had finished speaking, several others crowded around, thrusting business cards at Yan Xu and introducing themselves in quick succession.
“This isn’t the place to talk. Let’s go to the meeting room,” Yan Xu said, pleased by their eagerness. The more desperate they were, the more he could raise his price later. In reality, the “meeting room” was just the small screening room they had used before. Sitting down, Yan Xu addressed the group that followed him in.
“Let’s be frank. Gentlemen, you’re not here just to make my acquaintance, are you?”
“We won’t waste any time. Time is money, after all,” Manager Liu began. “We hope, Director Yan, that you’ll agree to distribute some copies of ‘The Butcher in the Rainy Night’ among our cinemas. There’s money to be made for everyone. It benefits both your company and ours.”
“I agree—sharing the profits is in everyone’s interest. Distributing some copies is no problem, but the revenue split will have to change,” Yan Xu replied.
“Change the split?” Liu looked at Yan Xu. “We’ve worked with your company for years, and it’s always been thirty percent.”
“Let’s be fair, Manager Liu. Before the film’s release, thirty percent was reasonable—no one knew how it would perform, and both sides shared the risk. But now, the film has already premiered, and you can see the results for yourselves. There’s no way tickets won’t sell; losing money isn’t possible. If you’re still offering us only thirty percent, doesn’t that put the other cinemas at a disadvantage?” Yan Xu said, unhurried.
“Alright, then what do you propose, Director Yan?”
“Thirty-eight percent,” Yan Xu stated. This wasn’t a figure plucked from thin air. For films from major production companies, this was the standard share for revenue-splitting agreements with theaters.
However, for blockbuster hits like “The Best Partners,” such splits wouldn’t apply. There was another kind of deal: seventy percent for the first week, sixty for the second, and so on—a stepwise decrease allowing the film company to take the lion’s share.
“Thirty-eight percent is too high,” Liu shook his head.
“That’s too much—impossible…” The others began to murmur among themselves. For movies from big studios, even minor productions or films that didn’t impress these cinema managers would still fetch thirty-eight percent, simply because those companies had become brands. Even if a film flopped, they wouldn’t lose, so the managers agreed to the higher split.
“Director Yan, you know that figure is unrealistic. Frankly, only Shaw Brothers, Cinema City, and Golden Harvest get that kind of deal in Hong Kong,” Liu said.
“We’re willing to increase it a bit—thirty-three percent. That’s as sincere as we can be, and your company can explain it to the others,” he added.
“Managers, thirty-three percent is already high for a small film company like ours. But for the big studios, it’s the bare minimum. Even their minor films get thirty-five percent. Look at the current situation—our film is on track for at least five million at the box office. As long as you show it, you’ll make money—just a matter of how much. Many big-company films can’t reach that number. I admit thirty-eight percent is a stretch, so let’s meet halfway—thirty-five percent. That’s our bottom line,” Yan Xu said, looking at the group. He had already cleared this with his company: he would lead the negotiations. The original thirty percent would be divided as agreed, and any extra would be split fifty-fifty.
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With the addition of seven more cinemas, the box office for “The Butcher in the Rainy Night” soared. Although the average attendance per screening fell slightly, in prime time, occupancy still reached eighty percent.
After a week, the film’s box office gross surpassed five million two hundred thousand, overtaking “The Tang Dynasty Libertine,” starring Xia Wenxi, and “I Love the Fairy Veil,” starring Zhong Chuhong, ranking twenty-fifth among all domestic releases that year and nearly catching up with “Big and Small Troublemakers,” released at the same time.
It’s worth noting that “Big and Small Troublemakers” was a major project from Yongsheng Film Company, directed by Zeng Zhiwei and starring Sylvia Chang, Cen Jianxun, and Little Binbin, shot in Taiwan and released by the veteran Xiang Shisan. Both Yongsheng and Baizhan were companies with ties to syndicates, but Yongsheng was vastly stronger, with deep pockets, big stars, and grand productions. Their films were shown in over twenty cinemas operated by major distributors.
The widespread release of “The Butcher in the Rainy Night” sparked ever-broader discussion, particularly about its graphic scenes. Newspapers targeted these bloody images as a source of social ill, claiming that many underage viewers experienced physical discomfort after watching, which left parents deeply concerned.
The film’s content itself—exploring how childhood trauma shapes adult thoughts and behavior—meant that while many young viewers found it thrilling, a significant number reacted with anxiety. Such unfiltered violence, they worried, could harm underage audiences. Some even called for a total ban in newspaper interviews.
Of course, “The Butcher in the Rainy Night” was not the only film under scrutiny. “The Tang Dynasty Libertine,” a Shaw Brothers production released in June, was also implicated. If bloody violence could influence youth, then what about films featuring explicit scenes? As the debate deepened, its scope widened, drawing in a host of adult films. Should they all be banned, or given free rein? Both sides argued their cases, and the controversy raged on.