Chapter 101: Propaganda Is Fraud (Special Bonus for Alliance Master

The crew of Annabelle rented a church and a standalone house in the suburbs, and these were essentially the only two shooting locations; if other locations were needed, they could just shoot additional shots.

To match the film's eerie atmosphere, crew members covered the exterior walls with wallpaper designed to resemble purple paint and chunky plaster textures.

Wallpaper is simpler—paint would require brushing and drying, which is troublesome.

Later, under the art director's guidance, the crew also set up the interior scenes, as most of the filming would take place inside the standalone house.

This was also why the production cost was low.

Even if the crew looked down on these two Chinese, they still had to work, because CAA was watching—CAA took money and had to provide good service.

Actually, the plot of Annabelle is very simple and can be summed up in one sentence:

A demon needs a soul.

Don't overanalyze horror movie plots—just scare people. Few horror films get high ratings because they lack logic.

On March 10, with CAA's help, Fang Hong signed agreements with all crew members and actors under the name of Yutu Film Industry of the United States.

Signatures were mandatory here, with detailed clauses and rules, even down to meal times.

All of it was in English, which Fang Hong couldn't read; Yu Xian only listened to Richard's summary and didn't read it carefully.

Annabelle took eight days of pre-production before officially starting filming.

To save cost and time, no opening ceremony or events were held.

There was nothing much to prepare for—it wasn't a period drama; they just needed to make the Evil Spirit Doll visually terrifying.

Fang Hong served as producer for this film, Yu Xian as director.

Actually, Fang Hong's greatest strength was directing horror films and borderline erotic movies, since that's how he started in his past life.

So during filming, though Yu Xian was the one directing, Fang Hong also taught him horror filmmaking techniques.

This film had a complete shot-by-shot script; Yu Xian only needed to follow it.

If you can copy, copy—adding your own ideas or innovation was not allowed.

This restricted Yu Xian's desire to express himself, which was necessary, because his ideas couldn't escape domestic cultural traits, but this film was made for foreigners.

The target audience was foreigners; it had to serve their perspectives.

During filming, Chen Zhixi called: "Zhi Qingchun has been scheduled for release on April 26, right before Labor Day."

"You're still amazing—you got the Labor Day slot," Fang Hong praised.

Last time he got a New Year Slot, he had to beg, plead, swear, and nearly wore out his voice.

Chen Zhixi just did it effortlessly.

"I didn't ask for it—it was Old Lei who offered it to us," Chen Zhixi said.

Privately, the two called the production manager "Old Lei."

Fang Hong asked: "What's going on?"

"Because this Labor Day slot has no China Film Group film at all—only co-productions. He wants us to challenge them."

Chen Zhixi explained the details over the phone.

This Labor Day, Zhi Qingchun is releasing on the same day as Guan Yunchang and B+ Detective—both are China-Hong Kong co-productions, the former by Shanghai Film Group, the latter by Guangxian, neither related to China Film Group.

A Chinese Ghost Story is a co-production between Huadian and Hong Kong/Taiwan, also unrelated to China Film Group.

Other films aren't worth mentioning—they're too far from Labor Day.

So China Film Group needs one of its own domestic films to occupy the Labor Day slot, otherwise all the resources will be taken by co-productions.

What about the livelihood of mainland filmmakers?

The idea is good, but no one knows if Zhi Qingchun can hold up.

After understanding the situation, Fang Hong asked: "What's your propaganda plan?"

"I called to ask you exactly that—do you have any good propaganda ideas?" Chen Zhixi said.

Previously, the two always worked as a team: Fang Hong planned, she executed.

Now that he's suddenly gone, she feels lost!

"No. Figure it out yourself," Fang Hong said.

This time, let Chen Zhixi carry the whole burden—he's too far away, and he has plenty of things to handle here; he has no time to manage that side.

Besides, he promised Liu Tianxian he wouldn't use any more methods that crossed the line—he'd make films properly!

"That's too abrupt—no advice at all?" Chen Zhixi was speechless; he was letting go completely.

How was she supposed to do this?

"You can reuse all your old propaganda materials—like who cried watching it, Liu Tianxian crying on set, or even if a dog cried, that's fine," Fang Hong told her.

These old propaganda materials were never properly used before; now use them, exaggerate them, and they'll definitely spark public interest.

Besides, this melodramatic youth film was made for older audiences—it's their nostalgia.

Young people like it too; this film won't lack buzz—it's meant to be watched while being criticized.

Hearing this, Chen Zhixi gained a rough idea of what to do, though she still lacked strategic understanding and only grasped execution.

But she was curious: "Did Liu Tianxian cry on set?"

"I was just using a metaphor—use someone else's story, or even make one up. I can tell you clearly: Propaganda is fraud."

After saying this, Fang Hong hung up.

But the phrase "Propaganda is fraud" struck Chen Zhixi like a bolt of lightning, splitting open her crown.

It gave her a sudden clarity, as if she had grasped the true essence of film propaganda.

Every successful film promotion in history involved fraud.

The Article 20, No More Bets, Tangrenjie Tangan, YOLO—too many examples of misleading promotions that succeeded.

And they've remained effective over time.

Fang Hong had simply taken future propaganda concepts and applied them here.

This isn't absolute, but for the film industry at this stage, which hasn't yet awakened to traffic-driven propaganda tactics, it's still quite ahead of its time. Of course, this method of promotion will inevitably erode some reputation—that's the cost of deception.

But even so, audiences haven't learned their lesson; they're still being fleeced round after round.

But if you want to reverse your image later, it's simple—just make a good film!

Fang Hong didn't concern himself with domestic matters; this was his major project.

Filming in the United States couldn't be like back home, where you worked fifteen hours a day—they had rules here.

Shooting could last no more than six hours; exceeding that meant fines and confiscation of equipment.

There were also mandatory weekend breaks—management was strict!

This made Yu Xian extremely uncomfortable; previously, they'd worked from morning till night, spending every waking moment on set.

Since they could only shoot six hours, they'd start later: 9 a. m. to 12 p. m., then 2 p. m. to 5 p. m.

If shooting night scenes, they'd start in the afternoon and finish before 11 p. m.

He'd never had such an easy job—it was great!

The crew enjoyed it, but Boss Fang was furious—he was used to the 996 grind.

Luckily, they could copy the shot list verbatim; otherwise, with this pace, six million dollars wouldn't last.

But the crew hated scenes involving babies and children—babies cried and had to be soothed, which severely delayed production.

Sometimes they had to use fake babies instead.

And you couldn't say anything—parents were always around, chattering endlessly in nonsense.

Accusations of child exploitation, racism against white people—it made Fang Hong incredibly frustrated.

Now they were filming: the female lead, terrified by the evil spirit, began researching to find out what was tormenting her.

At that moment, a gust of wind blew through, and her daughter—the baby—was locked in the room by the evil spirit.

The female lead rushed over to check, found the door locked, and frantically peered through the gap beneath it, seeing her daughter sitting on the carpet.

Books on the shelf were falling around her daughter, ready to crush her at any moment.

This made the female lead frantic; she kept shouting.

This scene was harmless—the books were just dropped by crew members.

"Waaah waaah waaah!" Just as filming began, the baby playing the daughter burst into loud tears again.

The crew instantly loosened up; actors stepped out of character, as if this were routine.

This baby cried every single time they shot a little!

Fang Hong and Yu Xian were helpless—they could only shoot so little per day, and the baby kept causing trouble. They wanted to kick the baby out, utterly fed up.

But they couldn't—there were too many rules!

Seeing her daughter cry, a white mother rushed over, picked her up, and kissed her cheek tenderly.

The white mother walked over with her daughter, rambled at Fang Hong nonstop—he had no idea what she was saying and couldn't understand a word.

He asked Yu Xian: "What the hell is she babbling?"

"She says we stop here today—her daughter needs a break, no more filming," Yu Xian was equally exasperated; they'd only filmed for an hour.

"No!"

Fang Hong refused outright: "Tell her our daily task isn't finished—we agreed on six hours."

Every day delayed cost money—the agency only helped assemble the crew and didn't care how filming was done; if it dragged on, they'd take a cut.

Yu Xian communicated Fang Hong's position.

The white mother couldn't take it—her face darkened with anger: "You're abusing children. I'll report you to the Screen Actors Guild."

That threat actually intimidated Fang Hong and Yu Xian—if she reported them, they might lose their equipment and be forced to shut down entirely.

The equipment was rented—it wasn't theirs!

"Tell her she can rest, we'll shoot in the afternoon," Fang Hong had to concede.

After all, this was their territory—he'd never been to the United States before, in this life or the last, and knew nothing about local conditions.

He only knew what he'd heard online, but China's internet was firewalled, making detailed information hard to find.

The agency had only told them the rules, translating as they spoke, so Fang Hong didn't fully understand the specifics.

Replacing the child actor wasn't feasible—who could guarantee the next one would be better?

In this foreign land, not knowing anything meant being manipulated—he could only try to communicate, and if that failed, he'd have to bring in CAA.

"Shit, my daughter is only one year old—she needs proper rest," the white mother, seeing they were intimidated, grew even more brazen.

Around them, white crew members watched, some exchanging glances with smirks—these two yellow-skinned guys were total fools.

But no one spoke up to help them; they didn't care about yellow people's problems—let them stay stupid.

Yu Xian translated the white woman's words.

"Tell her I don't demand we shoot the full six hours, but we must at least run through every shot once."

Fang Hong felt the white woman was stalling, messing with his head.

After all, every day delayed meant paying more wages—he couldn't afford to waste time.

Running through each shot once meant no need to shoot multiple takes or demand perfection—just one pass, since the baby didn't need acting skills anyway.

"Yellow-skinned vampires, you're exploiting us," the white woman began ranting again.

Fang Hong didn't understand the words, but he knew exactly what she was saying—he grew furious: "You fucking—"

"Fang Hong!"

Just as the two were locked in a standoff, while white crew members watched like spectators, a small, high-pitched voice interrupted them.

Everyone turned—and saw a yellow-skinned girl with a ponytail, wearing a sleek black women's suit, standing tall and sharp, radiating fierce elegance.

Her Skin was luminous, her energy excellent, her beauty aggressively striking—even foreign tastes couldn't help but glance twice and admire her beauty.

The newcomer was Liu Tianxian.

(End of Chapter)