Chapter Fifty-One: They Actually Want the Christmas Slot?

The White Films building had already been tidied up. Although it was just an old structure, it was more than sufficient for their needs. For a film company of their size, having even a single floor would be something; yet now they had twelve at their disposal, which felt like utter extravagance.

You could only envy such a tycoon. Not only did he know how to make money, but he also spent it with remarkable decisiveness.

This year’s Christmas season, the company held high hopes. The issue at hand was that William White had no intention of backing down. His so-called children’s movie was also centered around a Christmas theme.

Without the success of Police Academy, none of the theater owners would have paid him any mind. Release slots were always reserved for the big-budget productions.

But now, the situation had changed. Unless you were determined to thoroughly offend this young man, it was wiser to reserve some screens for him—what if he succeeded once again?

Police Academy was still showing, and at the current rate, it would stay in theaters for at least another month.

This time, the theater chains had learned their lesson. They decided to go with box office revenue sharing. They’d missed out on a lot of profits with Police Academy and would not make the same mistake again.

Not just the small and medium chains—even those with Hollywood investments expressed varying degrees of support. This year had been especially brutal for everyone; if another film could boost morale, their days would brighten a little.

As for the so-called blockbusters from Hollywood, all the exhibitors could do was offer a wry smile. They were seasoned professionals and knew full well which films could draw crowds.

White Films was equally forthright. They promised that as long as they received support from over a thousand screens, the boss would invest at least ten million dollars in publicity, and if the opening week’s box office fell below expectations, the theaters were free to pull the film.

Do you dare doubt them?

They were even willing to sign a wager agreement!

White Films employed no negotiation tactics—just sheer, overwhelming force.

Faced with such an attitude, the other film companies were left speechless, almost choking on their own words.

It’s important to remember, ten million in this era was no small sum. Most movies didn't even cost that much to make. Now, someone was willing to spend that on advertising alone; no one else had the nerve.

Posters certainly didn’t cost ten million. Clearly, this fellow planned on running TV ads. Of course, movie ads were only effective for a limited time—at most a month. To burn through ten million in a single month was nothing short of ruthless.

At this point, the exhibitors had no resistance left. They would never say no to a pile of cash.

The international theaters, who had profited handsomely from Police Academy, were no longer reserved either. They planned to introduce this film simultaneously, even if it meant accepting a lower share of the profits.

Stagnant Hollywood could no longer remain calm. A missed opportunity might be chalked up to bad luck, but if you missed every time, it was undeniable proof of incompetence.

White Films clearly had a unique approach. If they failed this time, things would continue as before—no one would easily upend the existing order. But if they succeeded once more, Hollywood would be ushering in a new era; at the very least, the current distribution model would be entirely overturned.

TV commercials were nothing new—they’d been around for years. Yet using television ads to promote movies was no simple feat.

Their previous approach was straightforward: state the date and month, the film, the director, and the stars, and that was it.

At best, some newspapers would run subtle promotional pieces, some friendly critics would write glowing reviews, and that was the extent of the strategy.

Not every film received even that. Only Superman and Star Wars warranted such treatment. For most movies, it was just a matter of printing some posters and sticking them up in appropriate places.

William White’s methods were clearly different. In retrospect, they all realized they’d been played.

From the very first controversy, the film’s popularity had only risen, clearly propelled behind the scenes—there was no other way it could have sustained such momentum.

Then came the word of mouth among students, and the Hollywood giants were thoroughly vilified. Next, different versions of trailers were released, pushing the hype to its peak.

When the film hit theaters, various groups rallied in support, elevating a simple comedy to the level of patriotic fervor.

At that point, every reviewer was morally blackmailed—unbridled praise became the only option.

White Films then shifted gears, playing the victim and recounting how the Hollywood bigwigs had tried to buy them out for two million, resorting to every means of coercion and enticement.

The giants, having been struck a heavy blow, finally woke up.

A simple review of the events allowed them to understand the whole story, and once they grasped the cause and effect, the old hands were left with their hackles raised. They no longer dared underestimate their opponent; his success was no accident.

They could well imagine that everything had been planned in advance, and that the negotiations with them were merely part of the scheme.

There was never any need for repeated concessions—the initial terms offered would never have been accepted, and the protracted negotiations were only intended to dig a pit for them to fall into.

With this realization, they temporarily gave up opposing White Films. At this point, it was no longer up to them; unless the higher-ups spoke out, it was best to keep the peace.

Hadn’t they seen what happened to United Artists? That was merely a pretext for action; once the matter had run its course, it seemed to have been forgotten.

“Boss, has the release date been set?”

“Yes, it’s decided. Premieres December 10th.”

“Will there be a premiere this time?” Jason asked, his face full of hope.

“Heh, have you got your eye on someone? Do you really need such an occasion?” William White was curious about Jason’s interests.

“Tch, there are plenty I’ve got my eye on—can you help me get them all?”

William White considered for a moment before replying, “That might not be possible right now, but in five years or so, we’ll be able to sleep with whomever we want.”

“You can’t be serious.”

Seeing Jason’s hopeful expression, William White said, “What do you think Hollywood is? As long as we have resources, who would refuse something so trivial?”

Realizing William White wasn’t joking, Jason drifted off into a vivid daydream, drooling as his imagination ran wild.

“Alright, enough fantasizing—let’s go fill our stomachs.”

The two of them, plus one dog, merrily went to eat.

Jason was a regular here and never stood on ceremony with William. The food was much better than at school, after all.

“Boss, after getting used to your wine, Bordeaux just tastes bland!”

“Ha! That’s because your tongue isn’t trained. It’s their specialty—Parisian girls are so skilled, and it’s definitely related to their tongues.”

“Oh come on, what does that have to do with anything?”

“You’re out of touch. They’re nothing like American girls. As girlfriends, they’re fine, but never take them home—you never know what tomorrow will bring.”

“Sigh, maybe I should just find a wife from China.”

“Haha! If you want to enjoy yourself, you’d better not—you’ll be the one crying then.”