Chapter 301: Filming

After Depp apologized, the entire crew’s efficiency improved significantly.

On one hand, any misconduct by the lead actor had been dealt with by Wu Yuchen—who dared to be careless? On the other hand, Depp’s apology genuinely improved the crew’s atmosphere, making everyone feel more like a unified team, and all came to sincerely respect Wu Yuchen, for he had treated everyone fairly, and each person felt respected.

Just before Hugh Jackman left for X-Men 2, the Pirates of the Caribbean crew finally completed the interior shots in Los Angeles, then relocated to the Dominican Republic, where Wu Yuchen sought the sense of isolation he wanted.

The locals welcomed the Pirates of the Caribbean crew warmly, as the production brought substantial revenue to the area. Most directly, the crew hired over 400 locals, injecting a significant income stream. Combined with the crew’s own 600 members, this instantly turned the production into a massive crew of over a thousand people, generating enormous local spending.

The island had previously relied mainly on agriculture and was already one of the poorest regions in the Caribbean. Having Pirates of the Caribbean film here as a location would, in the long term, greatly benefit its tourism—if they filmed it beautifully enough, it would attract countless tourists.

Yet when the crew first arrived and began shooting, they encountered some troubles: over 400 locals, many with low education levels, flooded into the production, causing considerable managerial chaos.

Chen Er and Ning Hao had always followed Wu Yuchen, observing more than speaking—especially Ning Hao, whose English had improved slightly but was still poor, making communication genuinely difficult. But now, even they had stepped in to help direct the crew.

“You, you, you—over there!” Ning Hao no longer spoke English; he shouted in Chinese while gesturing wildly.

English was useless now—the Dominican Republic’s official language was Spanish, but this 200-year-old island had its own indigenous language, so many locals didn’t speak Spanish, and translators were insufficient. For these people, communication had to be done through gestures—and since Ning Hao didn’t know English anyway, it didn’t matter.

“Cut! Don’t move! Follow me—yes, hold that pose!” Ning Hao was instructing several local extras on their movements, teaching them how to perform later.

After work ended for the night, Ning Hao collapsed onto his bed, staring at the ceiling, and said to Chen Er: “Old Chen, I came here and still haven’t learned English, but I’ve picked up sign language. If I go back now, I’ll be able to communicate flawlessly with the deaf and mute!”

Chen Er was writing his daily log; he didn’t turn around, just replied: “Perfect—you can go back and make a movie with deaf-mute protagonists!”

“You know what? I actually feel real empathy for the deaf and mute now—I truly understand their feelings!”

Then Ning Hao added with a sigh: “Wu Dao is truly amazing!”

“Do you think I need you to tell me that?” Chen Er chuckled.

“No, I mean—the longer I stay by Wu Dao’s side, the more I realize it! Managing a crew of over a thousand people, and making a bunch of foreigners submit to him—that’s no easy feat! If it were me, I couldn’t even manage a hundred!”

Then Ning Hao grinned: “And then there’s Wu Dao making Depp apologize to all of us—that’s something I’ll definitely talk about if the media ever interviews me!”

Chen Er turned his head: “Don’t go blabbing—there’s a strict gag order; nobody’s allowed to leak anything!”

Ning Hao waved his hand: “I can’t say it in the U.S., but once I’m back home, can’t I say it? Besides, you’re underestimating those reporters—I bet rumors are already circulating out there.”

“Stop thinking about all that nonsense—tomorrow we’re shooting the forest chase scene. Think about how to keep your group of locals from running wild!”

Ning Hao sighed—he still had to deepen his bond with the local villagers.

…

“Welcome back! Our big star!” Wu Yuchen embraced Hugh Jackman.

“Thanks, Wu—I hope the crew didn’t suffer because of my absence.”

“There was a bit of delay, so you’d better get back into shape quickly!” Wu Yuchen smiled.

Hugh Jackman had left the crew for a week due to X-Men 2’s release, but his results were impressive.

In the first X-Men, his Wolverine was just one of the leads; by this second film, his role had expanded dramatically—he was unquestionably the protagonist. X-Men 2 earned $85.56 million in its opening weekend, a stellar result that would firmly cement Hugh Jackman’s status as a top-tier actor.

Wu Yuchen smiled—the success of X-Men 2 made Hollywood increasingly aware of the immense potential of comic-book adaptations. Warner Bros. was once again itching to come back and discuss the Batman trilogy with him.

Wu Yuchen wasn’t surprised, but honestly, he was fully immersed in Pirates of the Caribbean and had neither time nor energy to haggle with Warner. He simply told them over the phone: his conditions wouldn’t change—if they agreed, they could talk; if not, don’t waste each other’s time.

This left Warner once again in a quandary; they decided to wait and see how The Hulk would perform next month.

Wu Yuchen didn’t care what Warner thought, nor did he care whether Li An’s The Hulk would give him unexpected support—he relied on himself. By next year, when Pirates of the Caribbean 2 released, the box office would prove everything.

The crew filmed for five weeks in the Dominican Republic, then moved to a small island in the Bahamas to shoot the final battle.

…

Time slowly reached August, and the Pirates of the Caribbean crew arrived at Great Bahama Island to film ship and naval battle scenes. The crew also welcomed some newcomers, such as Liang Jiahui!

In Pirates of the Caribbean 3, there were nine Pirate Lords—one of them was Chinese: the Singaporean Pirate King, Sao Feng, who had the most substantial role among the nine.

In the original Pirates of the Caribbean 3, Zhou Run was cast as this character, but Wu Yuchen had no intention of using him—he directly chose Liang Jiahui. At this point, Liang Jiahui had gained considerable fame in Hollywood thanks to Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon; whenever a Chinese role appeared in Hollywood, he was the first name considered.

“The bright moon rises above Tianshan, amid vast clouds and seas; ten thousand miles of wind blow past Yumen Pass.”

Liang Jiahui was reciting Li Bai’s poem “Guan Shan Yue,” in Mandarin, to express his pirate life of constant wandering across the seas.

“Cut! Excellent performance—especially this poem, the emotion was spot-on!” Wu Yuchen praised Liang Jiahui.

Liang Jiahui smiled at Wu Yuchen: “It’s rare to recite our Chinese classical poetry to foreigners—I couldn’t afford to mess it up!”

At this moment, Liang Jiahui had shaved his head; the makeup artist had carved a dragon tattoo onto his scalp and left several knife scars along his neck, giving him an overall ferocious aura—even his smile felt chilling.

Yet it still differed from Zhou Run’s original portrayal—for instance, he didn’t have long, pointed fingernails, which would have made him look like an ancient monster.

In the original version, Pirates of the Caribbean 3 was cut by twenty minutes in mainland China, half of which was Sao Feng’s scenes—including this much-anticipated recitation of Li Bai’s “Guan Shan Yue.”

The censors claimed the reason was that Zhou Run’s appearance risked caricaturing the Chinese image.

Honestly, that excuse didn’t hold water—if it was truly caricature, just delete it entirely or don’t import it. Cutting half and keeping half made the justification absurd.

Like Pirates of the Caribbean 2, which was never imported into China at all—the rumor was that the Flying Dutchman’s crew looked too grotesque and might scare children. But those same creatures appeared in Part 3 with zero cuts…

Besides, most characters in Pirates of the Caribbean had bizarre appearances; the other Pirate Lords weren’t any less strange than Sao Feng, and there was no deliberate attempt to caricature the Chinese.

In short, the censors’ explanations were best taken with a grain of salt. Compared to that, Wu Yuchen trusted another rumor circulating privately: someone had deliberately targeted Zhou Run.

As for why, it goes back to April 2007, just before the filming of Red Cliff, when Zhou Run suddenly quit. His move left the Red Cliff crew completely unprepared, and public opinion erupted in outrage, condemning him for being untrustworthy.

Red Cliff was a project strongly backed by Han Sanping—such a betrayal would surely make “Mountain Demon” furious!

So two months later, when Zhou Run’s scenes were cut in Pirates of the Caribbean 3, the reason became clear. If the film hadn’t already secured its import quota earlier that year, it might never have been shown at all.

But now Wu Yuchen wasn’t using Zhou Run at all, so none of that nonsense would happen. For this role, he kept most of the original design—retaining the ferocity, but removing the weird elements like long fingernails. Overall, it wouldn’t be seen as caricaturing the Chinese.

“Wu Dao, you don’t know how bad it was a few months ago in Hong Kong—SARS had everyone terrified, the economy tanked, property prices, already bottomed out, plunged further, and everyone stayed home, avoiding cinemas. The entire Hong Kong film industry shut down—no work at all!”

During a break, Liang Jiahui chatted with Wu Yuchen about recent events.

Wu Yuchen smiled and comforted him: “Thankfully, it’s over now.”

Liang Jiahui shook his head: “It’s never going back. Everyone knows Hong Kong cinema is finished. Many are asking me how to move north—I don’t think Hong Kong cinema can ever return to its former glory.”

Wu Yuchen smiled faintly and said: “You don’t want talent to leave, but Hong Kong cinema can’t provide enough work opportunities for its people. Where’s the world where you get everything? What do Hong Kong filmmakers value most?”

“Of course, making money!” Liang Jiahui answered without hesitation. Though everyone talked about reviving Hong Kong cinema, who didn’t put profit first?

Wu Yuchen chuckled: “Exactly. Film development rests on economic foundations—the better mainland China’s economy grows, the more prosperous the market becomes, the more Hong Kong filmmakers will move north. It’s an irreversible trend.”

“Tony, one thing I admire about you is your honesty—you’re not like many Hong Kong people who come north but pretend to hate it.”

“‘Pretend to hate it’?” Liang Jiahui didn’t understand.

“It means they’ve already come to the mainland to make money, yet still complain about everything—arrogance won’t do.”

Liang Jiahui immediately praised him: “Wu Dao, with you and Miracle Pictures around, who dares to act superior?”

He said it aloud, but inwardly he knew the mindset of his Hong Kong peers—they saw the mainland as backward yet profitable, and couldn’t help acting condescending.

Then Liang Jiahui asked a topic everyone was discussing: “Wu Dao, what do you think of CPEA?”

CPEA, the Mainland and Hong Kong Closer Economic Partnership Arrangement, included two provisions related to film: co-productions between the mainland and Hong Kong could be treated as domestic films in the mainland; Mandarin films shot in Hong Kong, after approval by mainland authorities, could be released in the mainland without being subject to import quotas.

In other words, the Hong Kong film industry’s long-desired mainland market was finally fully open to them!

Many Hong Kong filmmakers saw this as the greatest rescue policy—the vast mainland market could surely revive Hong Kong cinema to its former glory!

“It will prevent Hong Kong cinema from starving, but don’t expect it to return to its glory of fifteen years ago!”

Wu Yuchen added to Liang Jiahui: “Film is inherently cultural. Hong Kong culture can never become mainstream in the mainland—the mainland market will always be dominated by local films.”

In the past, many criticized this policy, claiming it let Hong Kong stars ride roughshod over the mainland, seizing resources.

In Wu Yuchen’s view, this decision was actually a brilliant move—it brought more talent and technology to the mainland film industry and created a powerful “catfish effect.”

The mainland film industry had grown complacent, sheltered by policies and lacking competition. Introducing Hong Kong cinema forced mainland filmmakers to learn how to make commercial films, improve marketing, and better understand the market.