Chapter 00248: Teasers and Trailers
# Teasers and Trailers
Chapter 248
Novel: 1979 Golden Age
Chapter 248: Teasers and Trailers
The Spring Festival slot was given to *Shaolin Temple*.
This film, which had achieved glorious success in history, was now an uncertain prospect.
The two continued their discussion. *Tai Chi 2* needed ample time for post-production, as did *Orphan*.
If they were to attend the Berlin Film Festival again next year, it would be too rushed...
Suddenly, they spoke in unison:
"Let’s go to Cannes!"
"Let’s go to the French Riviera!"
"French Riviera" was how Hong Kongers referred to Cannes.
"The Cannes Film Festival is held every May—plenty of time. We can bring *Tai Chi 2*, *Orphan*, *Deadly Turn 2*, and *Dark Descent 2* to sell."
"Wow, four films at once. That’s visible growth in strength."
Chen Qi nodded but then added, "But pushing it to May means my returns will be delayed again. I want to keep filming, but the company’s funds are tight."
"If you’re in trouble, Great Wall can—"
"No, no. I have an idea. *Tai Chi* sold to so many regions—they should’ve all been released by now, right?"
"They should have."
"How were the results?"
"I’ve heard scattered feedback saying the box office was good. What are you planning?"
"Well, actually, I brought a copy with me this time. I pre-edited a five-minute clip. Uncle, could you invite the distributors from Japan, Korea, and Southeast Asia to come take a look?"
"You’re..."
Fu Qi paused, looking puzzled.
"You want to sell a teaser?!"
"No, no. This is called a *trailer*—much more substantial than a teaser!" Chen Qi laughed.
Hong Kong films selling teasers began in the 1950s.
Back then, World War II had just ended, and overseas Chinese in Southeast Asia were deeply homesick.
The demand for films brimming with traditional Chinese flavor skyrocketed, and the output from Hong Kong’s major film studios couldn’t keep up.
Thus, the practice of selling teasers was born.
Later, political instability in Southeast Asia led to fluctuating policies, and the teaser market temporarily collapsed.
By the 1980s, Hong Kong cinema flourished again.
First, Southeast Asian distributors returned, and by the late '80s, Taiwan lifted its film restrictions.
Taiwanese distributors, waving stacks of cash, flooded in, reviving the teaser trade.
But teasers aren’t the same as trailers—that’s an important distinction!
A decent teaser might include a poster with the lead actors’ photos.
A less polished one? Just a slip of paper listing the title and the cast—usually big-name stars—and that’s it.
With just that, they could squeeze money out of Taiwanese and Southeast Asian distributors.
For example, when Wong Kar-wai made *Ashes of Time*, distributors took one look and thought, *Holy shit, a martial arts film with an all-star cast!*
Pay up! They *had* to pay up!
And then... nothing.
The most egregious cases? Listing ten films at once, tricking distributors into paying 20%-40% deposits per film, and walking away with a huge sum.
Then they’d drag their feet—how many years would it take to finish ten films?
In the end, maybe three or four would get delivered, leaving distributors utterly scammed.
Selling teasers helped circulate funds, but the downside was complacency, shoddy productions, and lost credibility—one of the main reasons for Hong Kong cinema’s decline.
So, as the old saying goes, Hong Kong filmmakers blaming the mainland? That’s just shifting blame.
Hong Kong cinema dug its own grave!
What Chen Qi was selling, however, was genuine footage—a *trailer*.
Now *that* was integrity.
......
"Ah~ Hong Kong truly exudes a fusion of tradition and modernity!"
Days later, Shinji Nakamura from Japan’s Toho Studios landed in Hong Kong, muttering in the exaggeratedly emotive tone characteristic of Japanese.
He was dressed like a typical Japanese corporate employee—impeccable suit and leather shoes, a genuine leather briefcase, a neatly knotted tie, radiating efficiency from head to toe.
It couldn’t be helped; Japan’s economy was booming, so much so that it had begun "patricide."
And then Uncle Sam promptly put them in their place...
Never mind America’s own internal and external troubles—it could still discipline its "children" just fine.
Unlike in later years, when even the dignified Biden would be left in limbo, with Harris suspected of forging his will, turning everything into a third-rate palace drama.
Back when *Tai Chi 1* was negotiated, it was Shinji Nakamura who closed the deal for $1 million.
He was chewed out upon returning—but what was the result?
Unprecedented success.
Many theaters, after selling out, even added standing-room tickets.
Osaka’s Umeda Kitano Theater set a nationwide record with over 12,000 admissions in a single day.
The final box office was ¥3.6 billion.
Under Japan’s industry profit-sharing model, distributors took 50%-60%.
Toho made ¥2 billion—about $9 million!
So when news of *Tai Chi 2* surfaced, Nakamura rushed over without delay.
After a quick rest at the hotel, he hurried to the Clearwater Bay studio—only to run into someone he loathed before even meeting the man he came to see.
He didn’t know him, but the man’s face alone was irritating.
Kim Min-yong glared back, equally repulsed.
Among China, Japan, and Korea, mutual disdain was the norm, with any two ganging up to mock the third.
"Hmph!"
Kim Min-yong scoffed through his nostrils and strode upstairs first. *Tai Chi* had also been a hit in Korea, with 290,000 admissions in Seoul alone, landing in the year’s top ten.
The two went up and waited a while longer until distributors from Singapore, Malaysia, and Thailand arrived.
Fu Qi hadn’t invited too many—these four were enough.
After some small talk, they moved to a screening room on set.
Chen Qi’s copy finally saw use as a five-minute clip played.
Historically, Japanese distributors rarely bought Hong Kong teasers—they were too absurd, and Japan’s market was peculiar.
Apart from Jackie Chan, Yuen Biao, and a handful of others, most flopped.
Yes, the Japanese *loved* Yuen Biao.
No one knew why.
But what Chen Qi brought was a *trailer*.
And so, the group witnessed Jet Li battling Donnie Yen with a cloth staff, the eerie and beautiful two-faced Bodhisattva, the Yellow Lotus Holy Mother, and Jet Li in relentless action—half the footage was him.
The distributors came for him—they had to see him!
*Clap clap clap!*
The short five minutes ended quickly, and the group applauded.
"Turning cloth into a staff—such a brilliant idea! I can’t wait to see the full film!"
"You’ve added so many new elements—I love it!"
They conversed in English.
Chen Qi, no longer pretending in front of Fu Qi, spoke fluent English.
"First, thank you all for coming. I’m sure you understand the purpose of this meeting, so I’ll keep it brief. *Tai Chi 2* has just wrapped and entered post-production."
"We’re offering pre-sale rights now. As industry professionals, you know Hong Kong films usually ask for 20%-40% with nothing but a title and cast. To show our sincerity, we’re only asking for 15%."
"If you’re interested in further discussion, please stay. If you’d rather wait to see the full film at Cannes, you’re welcome to do so."
......
A brief silence followed.
Shinji Nakamura asked, "Mr. Chen, we rarely pay deposits for films in advance. Why not discuss this at Cannes?"
"We have our reasons. All I can say is, if you pass now, we may seek another Japanese distributor—or even negotiate global rights with an American one."
......
Another stretch of silence.
No one moved to leave.
"Good. It seems we’ve reached a preliminary consensus. Now, let’s talk specifics!"
(That’s all...
The crosstalk scene’s been lively lately!)
(End of chapter.)