Chapter 481

Of course, The Class was 2004, The Sheep Herding Class was 1983, and ticket prices aren't that high now.

Pathé Films won the bidding war against other European studios, securing the European and African theatrical and video rights for The Sheep Herding Class for $1.2 million.

In this era, non-kung fu Chinese films couldn’t earn much at the box office; without video rights, no one wanted to cooperate.

Excluding mainland China, Hong Kong, Macau, and Taiwan, Wei Ming sold the Asian rights to Da Ying in Japan, a subsidiary of Tokuma Shoten; Wei Ming chose them because of his existing collaboration with Tokuma Shoten in Japan’s manga industry.

Sony offered slightly more, but not by much, so Wei Ming sold it to Da Ying for $800,000.

Actually, Sony wanted the original soundtrack album rights even more, but Wei Ming valued these rights highly—these dozen or so pieces appeared only as fragments in the film, and to hear them in full, you needed the original soundtrack LP.

Nearly every piece was a classic, and easier than the film itself to cross borders and languages; even when Sony raised its offer to $1 million, Wei Ming refused—he preferred to wait for a better bid, since few music companies came to Cannes.

If this were old Bao from the Film Bureau who’d never seen foreign currency, he’d have sold it immediately—just a few songs, what’s not to like about a million dollars? How much is enough?

Before leaving Cannes, Wei Lingling and Melinda bundled and sold the rights to the Americas and Australia.

The buyer was a woman named Katherine Kennedy—not the sister of President Kennedy, she had no relation to the Kennedy family; her connection was with Steven Spielberg.

Two years ago, Katherine and her husband co-founded Amblin Entertainment with Spielberg, and since then the company produced nearly all of Spielberg’s films; Katherine’s first producer credit was E.T.

Katherine had heard Spielberg talk endlessly—he still dreamed of Jurassic Park, secretly checking MGM’s adaptation progress, and he was also interested in District 9.

This time, Katherine sought to build a relationship with Wei Ming for potential future collaboration.

Many companies wanted the North American rights to The Sheep Herding Class—Paramount, Twentieth Century Fox, even Disney—all wanted to distribute this first Chinese film to win the Palme d’Or, and none lacked promotional hype.

But Wei Ming ultimately chose the small company Amblin Entertainment; price wasn’t his top concern—he also wanted to collaborate with Spielberg on Jurassic Park, and because Katherine Kennedy promised to campaign for The Sheep Herding Class to win an Oscar.

Since the state wanted awards, Wei Ming aimed to collect as many as possible; with the Palme d’Or’s momentum and local PR power, nomination should be easy.

Even if it didn’t win Best Foreign Language Film at the Oscars, at least it could pick up some awards from America’s many smaller precursors and indicators.

So Wei Ming finally sold the combined rights to South America, North America, and Australia to Amblin for $1.5 million.

Amblin Entertainment also took on some risk, as mainstream American theaters hadn’t screened a mainland Chinese film in decades; even counting Hong Kong films, no Mandarin-language film had grossed over a million dollars since Bruce Lee.

Thus, fueled by the Palme d’Or’s halo and universal audience and jury praise—“easy to understand,” “beautiful to watch,” “wonderful to hear”—The Sheep Herding Class sold its overseas rights for $3.5 million.

As for Hong Kong, Macau, and Taiwan, Wei Ming planned to give the rights directly to the Film Bureau; originally meant for DreamWorks, it wasn’t worth much anyway.

Splitting the rights finer and selling to more companies might have earned more, but Wei Ming wanted to capitalize on the momentum for global promotion, so he didn’t haggle over details.

Melinda sighed: “We made so much—our publishing house has never made three million! Making films really pays!”

Wei Lindi, his aunt in San Francisco, thought the same—back in the 1930s, when she was a wealthy socialite in Shanghai, she had invested in films and knew many of the era’s biggest stars.

She saw the Cannes news in San Francisco and called Wei Lingling herself; this was one reason Wei Lingling decided to accompany Amin to France.

Knowing her aunt cared, Wei Lingling immediately reported to her after the Cannes ceremony: The Sheep Herding Class had won the Palme d’Or and three other awards, becoming the biggest winner, and she estimated the film’s profits.

“Since we have no overseas distribution channels, we sold the rights outright, but I think earning a few million dollars is no problem—compared to our $100,000 investment, it’s an extremely valuable return.”

A few million dollars meant little to Wei Lindi’s Zhiyuan Group, but it was still a Mandarin-language film, with its natural barriers; if it were an English-language film, profits could easily reach tens of millions!

If profits reached tens of millions, even for Zhiyuan Group it would be a significant return, worth serious attention.

So after receiving her niece’s call, Wei Lindi immediately inquired about the current state of American film companies, considering buying one.

The result? What? Columbia Pictures? Goizueta dared to ask $1.5 billion!

Are film companies with real backing really worth that much?

Robert Goizueta was CEO of Coca-Cola, the Cuban who led Coca-Cola to its golden age; shortly after taking office, he acquired Columbia Pictures, one of Hollywood’s eight major studios.

Facing Zhiyuan Group’s inquiry, Goizueta didn’t take it lightly—Zhiyuan wasn’t a small player.

But Coca-Cola had only spent $750 million on Columbia last year, aiming to embed Coke products in Columbia films and undermine Pepsi; after just one year, with goals unmet, Goizueta wouldn’t sell so easily, so he quoted Zhiyuan double the acquisition price.

If Zhiyuan really wanted to be the fool, the board wouldn’t object—not even $1 billion would be too low; earning $250 million a year, the board would praise him for doing an excellent job.

Wei Lindi obviously wouldn’t pay that—$1.5 billion? Even $1 billion was too expensive—so she turned her attention to mid-sized and small film companies.

In Paris, the embassy hosted another official victory banquet for Wei Ming; he took photos with many people, including the ambassador, not just Chinese but also French—from politics and the arts.

Because he stayed an extra day in Paris, Wei Ming told his aunt: “I won’t go to Hong Kong—I’m flying straight to Guangzhou, then heading to Fuzhou for the Golden Rooster and Hundred Flowers Awards.”

Though he had no film nominated, the Golden Rooster and Hundred Flowers had long invited him; if the invitation was once symbolic, now they desperately wanted him at the ceremony to share his international award-winning experience with domestic peers.

Besides, both his sisters would attend—they were nominees too—and Wei Ming hoped to witness Linjie’s coronation as Best Actress.

“What about Amin?”

Wei Ming: “If you have time, cheer her up; if not…”

Wei Lingling: “I don’t have time.”

“Then I’ll go to Hong Kong myself to soothe her—I’ll bring Xi Zi next month to start film preparations.” Wei Ming said.

“What about the villa?” Wei Lingling said. “I’ve already bought a house for your Gong Yu, but the villa isn’t settled yet—it’s expensive.”

Wei Ming asked: “What prices?”

Wei Lingling pulled out several photos from her bag: “I can’t afford Tai Ping Shan, so I didn’t look much at Hong Kong Island—mostly checked Kowloon and New Territories; this one’s five million, this one’s eight million, this one’s over ten million.”

Only exterior photos, no interiors; Wei Ming found it hard to decide: “I’ll wait until I get there—stretching this month might get them to lower the price further.”

Wei Lingling nodded, but just as she was leaving, another music company arrived—Pathé Records, also known as EMI Records; though its Chinese name was Pathé, it had no relation to Pathé Films, headquartered in London.

David Bowie was with this company; after returning to London, he strongly recommended The Sheep Herding Class’s score to EMI, making EMI the second major record label to approach Wei Ming after Sony.

Wei Ming carried a tape and played several film tracks he’d recorded; EMI’s team became highly interested and wanted to close the deal on the spot.

Wei Ming didn’t mind telling them: Sony offered $1 million and he still refused, and that was only for physical records, no derivative rights.

Future licensing and performance rights for these classic scores would bring massive income—and that income belonged to Hong Kong DreamWorks.

For a film’s soundtrack album to reach this price, even EMI admired Sony’s boldness—most film soundtracks never earned this much, though Wei Ming might be exaggerating, using Sony to inflate the price.

But EMI didn’t care; they’d tried to collaborate with Wei Ming before and failed, and now they wouldn’t miss this chance.

So they finally accepted the $1.5 million offer, prepared to lose money, but with one condition: they wanted Wei Ming to compose a rock or electronic song specifically for David Bowie.

Wei Ming had spoken with David Bowie—he’d been acting in films and trying musical theater; Wei Ming recommended him to the developing Lion King team, confident Webber would be thrilled to have such a rock star join, and with Webber’s talent, he’d write him many excellent songs—but not rock.

Wei Ming discussed Bowie’s current musical style with his manager; this rock star was incredibly versatile—he’d tried rock, electronic, disco, soul—almost every major genre of contemporary pop music.

The manager didn’t impose strict limits; though Wei Ming released few English songs, each was a classic, so he was given great creative freedom.

Wei Ming said: “Fine, once I finish writing it, I’ll mail it to Melinda—just contact her directly if you like the song.”

“The soundtrack contract can be signed immediately.”

“Excellent.”

Altogether, The Sheep Herding Class’s trip to France earned $5 million, with costs so low they were negligible!

Wei Ming had never earned this much from any book or song before—this was his biggest payday yet, with future earnings still coming; making films really paid.

But it was also exhausting and disrupted his personal life, so for the next Hong Kong film, Wei Ming would only serve as producer.

After parting ways with Melinda and Wei Lingling in Paris, Melinda returned to London clutching her stomach, while his aunt flew straight to Hong Kong to find a director skilled in comedies and children’s films.

After seeing them off, Wei Ming waited two more hours before boarding the flight to Guangzhou with Old Bao and Old Li; the three of them would carry their honors to the Golden Rooster and Hundred Flowers Awards together.

Cao, the Chinese ambassador to France, gave Wei Ming a beautiful wooden box containing all four awards and certificates, including the Palme d’Or; Old Bao refused to check it, carrying it with him—this couldn’t be lost.

Then on the plane, Old Bao asked a crucial question.

“Director Wei, where should we put these awards?”

Wei Ming smiled: “The Camera d’Or is for me personally—I should keep it. No problem, right?”

“No problem.”