Chapter 298: Cultivating Talent

On the plane, a young man with dark skin and a large head looked around nervously; he wore a brown leather jacket and a thick gold chain around his neck, radiating an air of vulgarity. Anyone seeing him for the first time would never believe he was an artistic filmmaker—let alone one who had won international awards for art-house films!

Ning Hao was still excited; he never expected he’d suddenly be chosen by Wu Yuchen to accompany him to Hollywood for training.

But thinking of his terrible English, Ning Hao’s face twisted in distress. Since school, he had hated English the most.

About seven or eight years ago, when he took the entrance exam for the Academy of Fine Arts, he knew his English was hopeless. So he asked a friend to find someone who looked like him at Tai Gang to take the exam for him. He took the first two subjects himself, then switched places with his friend for English. They shaved identical heads and wore identical clothes. When results came out, Ning Hao checked: 150 points total, he scored thirty-something.

Ning Hao sighed helplessly: “Your score’s about the same as if I’d just guessed all A’s.”

The other guy apologized. In the end, the two men who looked alike sat by the Fen River, smoked through a whole pack of cigarettes, and parted ways on the spot.

After that, Ning Hao kept trying—film academy, fashion institute, opera academy, Wuxi Light Industry—but failed every time due to his English. He barely scraped into Beijing Normal University’s adult education program in the Arts Department, majoring in film production, finally linking him to cinema.

Ning Hao turned to a thin young man beside him: “Senior Chen, once we get to Hollywood, I’m counting on you—if not, I’ll be half-deaf and dumb!”

Chen Er turned to look at Ning Hao, surprised: “Didn’t you spend last year traveling all over foreign countries? I thought your English was solid!”

Two years ago, Ning Hao got into Beijing Film Academy; last year he wrote the script “Incense,” raised 100,000 yuan from Miracle Pictures, shot the film, and won numerous international awards—at Locarno, Tokyo, and the Hong Kong International Film Festival.

Ning Hao quickly shook his head: “No way—I only got through because the producer carried me. I only know ‘yes’ and ‘no’—everything else I had to mime!”

Chen Er, seeing Ning Hao wasn’t pretending, pulled out a notebook from his bag and handed it over: “Here’s my compiled list of film-related English vocabulary. If you really can’t manage, memorize these first!”

Ning Hao took the notebook, frowning—he never imagined becoming a director meant having to keep studying English! He glanced at Wu Yuchen in the front row—there was no choice; he couldn’t waste Wu Dao’s effort.

Wu Yuchen paid no attention to the murmuring behind him; after spending some time back in China, it was time to return to America—“Pirate King” was still waiting for him.

This time, he had two assistants in tow—he’d promised Han Sanping to cultivate more talent for Chinese-language cinema.

Originally, Han Sanping had recommended Guan Hu and Lu Chuan.

Guan Hu had directed “Get on the Bus!” “The Eye of the West” and “Black Hole” over the past two years; Lu Chuan’s “The Search” last year drew major attention—both were standout young directors.

But Wu Yuchen declined. It wasn’t because they were much older, nor because they were too artsy—it was because they both had that public intellectual vibe. Guan Hu was slightly better, but Lu Chuan’s “Nanjing! Nanjing!”—no matter how much you reflect on humanity, shouldn’t you at least get your act together first?

If he took these two to Hollywood for half a year, wouldn’t their public intellectual stench just grow stronger?

After thinking it over, Wu Yuchen switched to Ning Hao and Chen Er.

Chen Er was Wu Yuchen’s classmate; years ago he won multiple international awards for short films, and last year directed the feature “The Third Person”—among directors under thirty, he was exceptionally outstanding.

Ning Hao’s “Incense” last year was also full of soul and impressive.

Han Sanping naturally had no objections—he assumed Wu Yuchen wanted to train younger talent. In truth, Wu Yuchen could pick anyone he liked; Han Sanping could only suggest, as long as the person was talented.

…

In Los Angeles, after settling Chen Er and Ning Hao, Wu Yuchen met with his agent Carl: “How’s ‘The Boy in the Striped Pajamas’ doing?”

Carl smiled at Wu Yuchen: “Congratulations, Wu—yesterday, its North American box office broke one hundred million!”

“The Boy in the Striped Pajamas” had already been in theaters for months before the Oscars. It started with limited screenings, then gradually expanded—especially after its Oscar nomination, it reached over 600 theaters. Before the Oscars, it had already grossed over $46 million.

After the Oscars, boosted by the awards and expanded to 2,000 theaters, it earned $24 million in its first week, $17 million in the second, $12 million in the third. Yesterday, just as Wu Yuchen was flying over, it crossed the hundred-million mark.

Wu Yuchen smiled in satisfaction. Honestly, breaking $100 million in North America was impressive—after all, “The Boy in the Striped Pajamas” was a foreign-language film; it owed much of its success to the Oscars and the public’s heightened interest in the Iraq War, which drew viewers to this anti-war film.

In contrast, “The Pianist” had won Best Picture at the Oscars, but due to Polanski’s scandals, many audiences expressed disgust, refusing to watch a film made by a “hardened criminal,” even if it was Best Picture.

As a result, “The Pianist” performed poorly in North America—nowhere near “The Boy in the Striped Pajamas.”

Audiences generally held a mindset: if it’s a commercial popcorn flick, they lower their standards—they know it’s just for fun and don’t care about logic. But if it’s an art film, they unconsciously raise the bar, watch more seriously—especially with a realistic film like “The Pianist.”

Wu Yuchen smiled faintly—he’d indeed pushed media hard to publicize Polanski’s scandals during awards season, but that was Polanski’s own fault.

After arriving in Los Angeles, Wu Yuchen didn’t immediately jump into “Pirate King.” He had Carl arrange for Chen Er and Ning Hao to tour Hollywood studios first—he had personal matters to handle.

At Miracle Pictures, Wu Yuchen looked at the young, slightly naive Chinese face before him, flipping through the script—he was glad he’d come in person. The man was James Wan.

James Wan and his friend Leigh Whannell sat uneasily on the sofa, barely hiding their excitement—this was none other than the world-renowned director Wu Yuchen!

They were bottom-tier newcomers in the industry, having traveled from Australia to chase dreams in Hollywood, sending out resumes that vanished into thin air, unable to even land a job. They were so poor they had to squeeze into a basement and eat charity meals at church.

But when Miracle Pictures called them, they sensed a life-changing opportunity. And when they saw Wu Yuchen reading their script “Saw” with obvious delight, they nearly danced with joy!

Yet now, before Wu Yuchen, they dared not show their excitement, afraid of disturbing him.

Wu Yuchen himself was struck by the coincidence—he hadn’t even sought it out, yet the legendary horror franchise “Saw” had landed in his lap.

“Saw” wasn’t just brilliantly made—it was a textbook example of a tiny budget yielding massive returns: $1.2 million earned over $100 million!

Wu Yuchen remembered how many web novels he’d read in his past life, where protagonists always chose “Saw” as their debut—it spoke volumes.

After a moment, Wu Yuchen looked up and smiled: “Why submit this script to me? I’ve never directed a horror film.”

“The Sixth Sense” was a ghost story, but it wasn’t scary—just suspenseful.

James Wan and Leigh Whannell exchanged glances, then spoke: “Respected Director Wu, because we both feel you’re Chinese, and maybe our script has a better chance with you…”

That’s the advantage of fame—it draws talent to you, even if these two were broke, inexperienced newcomers.

Wu Yuchen smiled: “Congratulations—you made the right choice. I love ‘Saw.’”

James Wan and Leigh Whannell finally broke—faces lit up with joy.

“But I won’t direct this film myself.”

James Wan and Leigh Whannell weren’t surprised—no top director like Wu Yuchen would ever direct “Saw.”

In the film industry, there’s an invisible hierarchy: horror directors are considered bottom-tier. Everyone says awards disdain comedies and comedic actors—but horror films are even harder to win awards for.

Someone like Wu Yuchen, at the pinnacle of directing, would never turn back to make bloody horror films.

James Wan and Leigh Whannell stayed silent, waiting for Wu Yuchen to decide their fate.

Wu Yuchen smiled: “James, do you want to direct ‘Saw’?”

James Wan stared in disbelief—he never expected Wu Yuchen to ask that. He was a complete newcomer!

He stammered: “I—I direct it?”

Wu Yuchen nodded, smiling: “Yes. Don’t you want to turn your own story into a film?”

“No, no—I’m eager! Thank you so much, Mr. Wu! I’m just overwhelmed—I’ll cherish this chance!” James Wan bowed repeatedly.

Leigh Whannell, hearing this, was happy for his friend. But he also felt a surge of envy—of course, fellow Chinese look out for each other!

In Hollywood, forming tight-knit groups is common—not just among Jews, but also Italians, Irish, etc.

In Leigh’s eyes, his friend James Wan had been accepted by Wu Yuchen, the leader of the Chinese circle, treated as one of their own and nurtured—if he seized this chance, he might soar!

In fact, Leigh was right—Wu Yuchen did have this intention.

James Wan was truly a genius director—he never received formal film education, only self-taught through side studies and passion. From “Saw” to “Dead Silence,” then “Insidious” and “The Conjuring,” he became a master of horror, constantly pushing boundaries, creating his own unique horror universe. And his horror films were wildly profitable.

Later, he stepped out of his comfort zone with “Furious 7” and “Aquaman”—both commercial blockbusters that earned huge box office returns. Though Li An was famous in China, in Hollywood’s eyes, James Wan’s value was even higher. Hollywood only cared about money.

Such a talent? Wu Yuchen naturally wanted to bring him under his wing—so Miracle Pictures wouldn’t rely solely on him.

Wu Yuchen thought it was fate—he’d just brought Ning Hao and Chen Er from China to train, and now here in America, he’d found another gem: James Wan.

He also thought of Li An—he’d received an invitation to attend the premiere of “Hulk” in June.

After winning four Oscars for “Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon,” Li An took a break, then took on Universal’s “Hulk.” Ha—making money isn’t shameful!

But Wu Yuchen knew Li An was fundamentally an art-house director. He knew “Hulk” was a superhero popcorn flick—he could’ve just followed the formula. But he couldn’t resist adding his own thoughts, digging into the Hulk’s psychological depth, trying to make it thoughtful.

Thought? What the hell? Audiences watch superhero movies for thrills, for fun—not to think!

So “Hulk” would likely turn out just like it did in his past life—critically and commercially flopping, killing Universal’s Hulk dreams.

Wu Yuchen had no intention of watching it—he’d be at sea shooting “Pirate King” then, no time to fly back.