Chapter Seventy-Two: A Paragon of Triumph Against the Odds

The Police Academy has finally ended its theatrical run in North America, raking in a box office of 180 million dollars—enough to make anyone’s eyes pop. And that’s just in North America; its global box office is bound to approach 250 million, give or take. This year’s runner-up is Kramer vs. Kramer—a major production and an Oscar sweep. And how much has it made so far? A mere 50 million. Not long ago, the media was making a tremendous fuss about it, calling it the must-see film of the year. Comparing these two films is pure mischief. After all, one is an Oscar darling—box office doesn’t mean everything; the number of statuettes is the true measure of merit.

Even so, envy, jealousy, and resentment are inevitable, though one can’t be too blatant. Call the audience blind? That would be corporate suicide. The choice lies with the audience; being disgruntled helps nothing. Today’s viewers are easily swayed by external factors—reckless remarks only breed contrarian reactions.

As November arrives, Home Alone amps up its promotional campaign. Posters featuring the blond little boy plaster the walls around cinemas. Even newspapers carry full-page ads—no small expense, to be sure. Meanwhile, the first TV trailer has begun airing. Clearly, their promotional effort surpasses that of Police Academy; they haven’t confined their target to children at all. It’s a family film, after all—a Christmas-themed one at that.

Though there are no advance ticket sales, third-party surveys indicate that more than forty percent of households are interested in seeing it; in homes with children of the right age, that proportion rises to alarming heights. At this stage, ignoring the situation would be sheer folly. Hollywood’s distribution model now faces a comprehensive overhaul.

Whatever one thinks of the film itself, their marketing strategy is clearly ahead of its time. Compared to this, Hollywood looks positively feeble. Chaotic and disorganized, you say? Don’t be ridiculous. There’s a method to their approach—a seamless sequence of promotional tactics that local studios simply can’t match. Now that they’ve seen the light, it’s time to learn, even if that means picking up scraps.

But wishing to learn is one thing—mastering it is another. Even the trailer isn’t easy to craft: it must attract the audience while maintaining suspense. And there’s a bigger problem: what if the audience just doesn’t care? All of this hinges on having enough faith in your movie. A casual attempt costs ten million dollars or more; this is no joke—a misstep and you’ll lose your shirt. In this era, a film with a twenty-million-dollar budget is already impressive; adding ten million more for promotion would make even the major studios contemplate suicide.

But these are the studios’ woes—Wall Street sees things differently. There’s a wealth of opportunity for manipulation. Short on money? When has Wall Street ever lacked funds? The question is, what’s your return on investment? They don’t expect you to reach Police Academy’s numbers; even half that would make them ecstatic. And then there’s the merchandise—another potential windfall of tens of millions. Throw in sequels, and you have a veritable gold mine.

Why haven’t they made a sequel yet? For the money-minded on Wall Street, this is unfathomable. To them, William White must be insane to ignore such easy profits. Too busy to make a film? Nonsense. Many directors would jump at the chance, especially given White Studios’ generous profit-sharing system. As for the difficulty—Police Academy’s script has long been public knowledge. If you can’t shoot a script with that level of detail, you should probably retire; directing just isn’t for you.

Since it’s his script, few dare make snide remarks. Otherwise, someone would have said, “Anyone could have shot that.” Judging by current trends, White Studios’ second film will also succeed, or at least not fare poorly. In today’s Hollywood, a box office of thirty million is respectable; anything in the hundreds of millions is the stuff of legend—masterpieces counted on one hand.

The rankings may not be entirely fair, since tickets were cheaper in the past; the likes of Roman Holiday and Waterloo Bridge remain unshaken in cinematic history. But in terms of audience numbers, Police Academy’s performance is extraordinary—comparable only to Star Wars, with Jaws and Superman trailing behind. Don’t forget, the number of screens and the production companies’ stature aren’t even in the same league. The difference in production costs is even more staggering.

Despite all the skepticism, the title of most profitable film is well-deserved, leaving everyone speechless. In a country that worships capital, any argument is a waste of breath—a single retort will leave you choking.

The most profitable film—who can contest it? If you can, try making one yourself. By this point, there’s nothing left to discuss. Regardless of the methods—whether the film is highbrow or lowbrow—the producers have walked away with heaps of cash. What’s more infuriating is that this is only the beginning; no one yet knows how much money this IP will ultimately generate.

No matter how many investors clamor to put money into White Studios, success is nearly impossible. So far, the company has focused on strengthening its foundation, with new projects progressing step by step. While the outside world is abuzz, the boss appears utterly unconcerned. Wall Street’s greatest hope is for him to acquire one of the giants, giving them room to maneuver. But the boss is intent on building his own system, one entirely different from Hollywood’s current mechanisms.

William White has clearly modularized his workflow—not just in distribution, but the entire filmmaking process. The responsibilities of each person are perfectly clear. The speed of their productions is no accident; compared to the rest, White Studios’ films resemble products rolling off an assembly line, all adhering to a standardized procedure.

You might call this an affront to art. But ask Wall Street what kind of movies they prefer to invest in. Uncertainty is their greatest enemy. White Studios’ approach is ideal, minimizing unpredictability and ensuring that risks are both low and controllable.

They even have their own unique criteria for evaluating a film’s quality—criteria that directly determine the marketing budget. Unfortunately, outsiders have no way of knowing the specifics; key personnel involved in the evaluations are bound by confidentiality agreements. For the time being, the details are out of reach.

The mere existence of such a system makes Hollywood studios anxious. Judging by Home Alone’s promotional budget, this film is at least on par with Police Academy—perhaps even more so. Hollywood has no choice but to learn from this model. Without it, how will they decide on a marketing budget—flip a coin? Now they finally understand why someone would dare to invest ten million in promotion.

Since they can now roughly predict box office returns, they can target their efforts accordingly. If this system truly works, they have every reason to adopt it themselves.