Inside the office, the three men held a confidential discussion.
It was an odd tableau: Wang Yang and Zhu Dexiong were senior cadres steeped in revolutionary experience, while Chen Qi was merely a young newcomer. Theoretically, it was impossible for them to sit together and hash out studio affairs. But who could argue with the fact that he was the one who had proposed the path to earning foreign exchange—and had written the screenplay to boot?
By regular operating procedure, he belonged right in this room.
When it came to Tai Chi, the foremost issue was the budget.
"If we film the entire climax at the tower," Chen Qi said, "that means seven duels, which will take at least twenty minutes. If we stick to the standard ninety-minute runtime, that leaves only seventy minutes to tell the preceding story, and it'll easily feel rushed. To give the narrative room to breathe, we have to increase the runtime. A hundred to a hundred and ten minutes would be ideal."
Films exceeding ninety minutes did exist in this era, such as Murder at 405 produced by Shanghai Film Studio, which clocked in at 102 minutes, but they were quite rare.
"My thoughts exactly," Wang Yang agreed. "The tower sequence has to be complete, or the whole thing is wasted!"
"No matter what the final budget ends up being," Zhu Dexiong chimed in, "saving wherever we can is always the right move. Xie Tian is currently preparing Teahouse, which requires a large batch of late Qing costumes and props. We can borrow those, saving us a tidy sum right there. But Little Chen, doesn't Tai Chi need to show some old Beijing street scenes from the late Qing period?"
"It would be best if we could!"
"Then we'll have to build an outdoor set. That's a massive undertaking, and it certainly won't come cheap."
"..."
Zhu Dexiong fell into deep thought.
The room fell quiet. Knowing what was on their minds, Chen Qi deliberately waited a moment before venturing a careful suggestion. "Building an outdoor set costs money, but we don't have to tear it down after filming. If we leave it intact, it can be used for future projects set in the late Qing or Republican era. Just look at the booming film industry and the rise of television—there will only be more film and TV productions in the future. If we keep this set standing, we could even rent it out to other crews, which brings in another source of income."
Oh?
Hearing this, a sudden spark flashed in Zhu Dexiong's mind. "Old Wang, hasn't Ling Zifeng been clamoring to shoot Rickshaw Boy?"
"Yeah, that's true!"
"And he wanted to build a Xisi Pailou Street set, remember?"
"Rickshaw Boy..." Wang Yang gripped a cigarette between his lips and took two deep drags. "Rickshaw Boy is set in the warlord era, which is separated from the late Qing by quite a few years. Won't the visual style clash?"
"We can swap out the shop signs for late Qing styles and build a few new storefronts where necessary, right? That's still much cheaper than building an entire street from scratch!"
"Hey, that's a great idea!" Wang Yang's eyes lit up, and he nodded in agreement.
As one of Beijing Film Studio's "Four Great Directors," Ling Zifeng would go on to shoot the classic film Rickshaw Boy in the early 1980s, starring Zhang Fengyi and Siqin Gaowa. To recreate the atmosphere of old Beijing, he built a 150-meter-long Xisi Pailou Street set on the studio grounds. Later expanded multiple times to cover 14,000 square meters, it would become the famous Ming-Qing Street. Landmark productions like Farewell My Concubine, My Fair Princess, Prime Minister Liu Luo Guo, and Kangxi Incognito Travel were all shot there, making it the country's first true studio backlot.
"We haven't even started filming, and we're already scheming to borrow someone else's hen to lay our egg!" Wang Yang shook his head, then asked, "Old Zhu, how much would it cost Ling Zifeng to build that street?"
"By our preliminary estimate, at least two hundred thousand yuan!"
"Two hundred thousand!" Wang Yang clicked his tongue. He stood up, paced around the room twice, and waved his broad hand. "Build it! Not just for Rickshaw Boy and Tai Chi—Little Chen has the right idea. If we preserve the street after shooting, it can be used again down the line!"
"What about the funds?"
"I'll go to the Ministry of Culture and apply for a special grant!"
Zhu Dexiong took a moment to explain to Chen Qi, "Rickshaw Boy is a literary classic. If we say we're adapting a classic, higher-ups are willing to approve special funding. But if we say we're asking for money to shoot a martial arts flick, they'll tell us to take a hike!"
"Understood, understood!" Chen Qi nodded repeatedly.
Tai Chi was starting from a humble position—borrowing prestige, nesting in another bird's brood, and catching a free ride on someone else's coat-tails. There was no helping it. Those other projects were Teahouse and Rickshaw Boy, whereas martial arts movies were seen as rowdy fistfights devoid of class.
"In the end, we still need to raise our ceiling," Wang Yang sighed. "I'll have to go stir up some trouble at China Film to make them bump up the buyout price. Once they raise that purchase price, I can allocate a bigger budget. Don't worry about that—it's my job. Your responsibility is just to make a great movie. Little Chen, are you still set on hiring an action director from Hong Kong?"
"Yes. Ideally, the martial arts choreographer from Drunken Master. I believe his name is Yuen Woo-ping. You've seen that film—the action design was brilliant. I want him."
"You sat in on the discussion when Comrade Fu Chi visited. You know Hong Kong folks tend to shy away from us; bringing them over won't be easy. On top of that, their wages are sky-high, which adds to the budget. Couldn't we find someone on the mainland?"
"Director Wang, how are we going to choreograph those final seven fights in Tai Chi? We have to bring something truly fresh to the table if we want audiences at home and abroad to love it. Try reaching out to him first. If they're reluctant to come..." Chen Qi paused, then added, "I have things I can trade for his participation."
Among Hong Kong's four major stunt teams, Sammo Hung and Jackie Chan were currently at the height of their stardom and certainly wouldn't come to the mainland. Lau Kar-leung specialized in southern martial arts styles and looked down on the mainland; when the director for The Shaolin Temple was being replaced, they had approached him first, and only turned to Zhang Xinyan after Lau refused. What set Yuen Woo-ping apart was that those other three served as both director and leading star, whereas Yuen worked primarily behind the scenes. Coming to the mainland as an action director gave him far more flexibility. Furthermore, Yuen Woo-ping had no patience for petty drama; whatever the director asked for, he designed. In later years, he would collaborate with the mainland many times on projects like Tai Chi Boxer, The Tai Chi Master, and The Water Margin.
Seeing Chen Qi's insistence, Wang Yang relented. "What about the lead actor? Do you have someone in mind?"
"I want Li Lianjie for Yang Yugan. He's the right age, has good looks, and is very telegenic."
"Why is everyone after Li Lianjie?"
"Because his martial arts are genuinely spectacular!"
"Zhang Xinyan already claimed him. How do you plan on getting him? Are we supposed to wait until they wrap The Shaolin Temple before we shoot? That could take until the cows come home!" Wang Yang appreciated Chen Qi's talents, but he wasn't about to indulge him blindly.
Chen Qi thought it over and asked, "If I can find a way to make Director Zhang let us have him first, would you agree?"
"If he's willing to yield, of course I'll agree!"
"Great. Then I'd like to step into my post immediately so I can scout a batch of actors before the Spring Festival."
"You'd better sign a military pledge, kid. If you fail the mission, you'll be held accountable!"
"Come now, military pledges only apply to Ma Su. Do I look like Ma Su to you?"
The quip made Wang Yang chuckle. He waved his hand and shooed him out of the room. Zhu Dexiong watched with keen interest and remarked, "Old Wang, you really have a soft spot for that kid."
"Reform isn't easy these days. A young fellow like him has no backing whatsoever. If I don't stand behind him, who will? Once he finds his footing, I truly hope he'll be like the Monkey King, raising holy hell in the Heavenly Palace."
Wang Yang pondered for a moment, then added, "Let's arrange a temporary transfer first and give him the title of creative planner."
Beijing Film Studio indeed had such a position, tied directly to the Literary Department. Since a film originated from its screenplay, the Literary Department was not only responsible for liaising with writers, but also for taking the initiative to seek out subject matter, identify screenwriters, and develop scripts.
Giving Chen Qi this official post made it clear that Tai Chi was born from him.
Chapter 74