Chapter 102: A Bustling Casting Session

Now that Mr. Bean's Agent has been brought up, it's clear they're planning to recruit Rowan Atkinson. Frankly, it's puzzling—how does a top scholar end up wanting to be an actor? Wouldn't it be better to study the origins of black holes?

Those who mock themselves as having the intelligence of 007 are actually prodigies. Westerners’ thoughts are amusing—if you love acting, why bother with science and engineering?

White Films has long changed from what it once was. This casting season is lively, though it can’t quite match the excitement of Indiana Jones. Still, many are trying their luck.

Indiana Jones is a major production, with preparations far more complicated than White Films’. In fact, their script isn’t even finished, and filming won’t start until after June.

Don’t expect it to be released this year. Even if filming finishes, it won’t premiere unless they plan to compete with Home Alone for the Christmas slot.

Only a madman like Lucas would do that. Even if he won, it wouldn’t be meaningful—he’s got no grudge against the US dollar.

The idea of being coerced is even more laughable. The current Star Wars is burning hot; who would dare antagonize such a titan?

Though distribution is handled by Paramount, they don’t profit much from it.

No one knows how to position William White’s films. If you call them low-budget, after marketing expenses, they still cost over ten million dollars.

In this day and age, ten million dollars is no small budget—it’s at least a mid-tier production. Anything over twenty million bucks is a blockbuster.

What’s baffling is his box office—no matter how you look at it, it’s impressive. Before his films flopped, no one considered them small productions.

Timing-wise, these two films could very well clash. The Detective Abroad is already in post-production; with White Films’ usual pace, it’s basically a summer release.

Home Alone is slated for Christmas and still in preparation. Mr. Bean’s Agent cannot go for the Christmas slot—that would be self-defeating. If they did that, the other giants would surely laugh themselves silly.

Since both are set for next summer, a collision is inevitable. Fortunately, the two companies aren’t hostile; they can simply stagger the release dates.

William White thinks differently. The film’s premiere will be in London to maximize profits.

Changes in film distribution aren’t so simple. Everyone bases purchase prices on North American box office numbers.

What’s the point of releasing it early in Europe?

How the hell do you even price that?

William White couldn’t care less. His team must follow his orders: premiere in London on June 15, then release in North America a week later.

Usually, summer blockbuster season starts June 1. If Lucas isn’t foolish, he might even move his date earlier, leaving a one-month gap between the two films.

The two companies have an unspoken understanding. Other studios, however, are really troubled—whoever they clash with will suffer. None want to survive in such a squeeze.

For Hollywood flops, White Films is like sacred ground. Many have risen to fame overnight here—take that Black actor and the little boy, for example; they’re flooded with commercial offers.

White Films today is not the same as it once was. Their films now cost millions, and pay is quite decent.

With such complicated casting, the boss doesn’t need to be hands-on; hiring a casting director to handle things, with final approval from the boss, is enough.

The first Mr. Bean Agent had problems with its plot. It started well—villains wiped out all intelligence agencies, the weakest agent steps up—but then the story collapsed. Though the crown symbolizes royalty, stealing it doesn’t make one queen. John Bull’s humor was simply inscrutable.

William White decided to revise the storyline. Rescuing the kidnapped queen is a better plot—it’s more reliable than sabotaging the coronation. Though the premiere is in London, the main market remains North America. The audience there must be thrilled.

John Bull, mingling in Hollywood, is now in his prime. William White plans an English-style comedy.

Hollywood studios are confused; his style is unpredictable. Now he’s switching to English humor?

English comedy?

Are you sure you won’t freeze the audience to death?

British dry wit has no market in Hollywood—this is an undeniable fact. Directors who’ve tried this usually bomb.

The old-timers dare not voice their opinions; the damn journalists aren’t kind either—they seem intent on nailing them to the pillar of shame forever.

This time, the budget is huge, the shooting schedule long—a true sign of a major studio.

For a moment, other studios were deluded: were White’s previous fast-paced productions just illusions? Maybe steady progress is his norm.

William White is playing innovation; he doesn’t want to break rules. Hollywood has its operation mode—a mature system. Why stir trouble when following the established path works?

Hmm, the phrase “Xiao Gui Cao Sui” can’t be translated directly. Those four Chinese characters would need a short story to explain fully.

This is the charm of the Chinese language. Films trying their luck in Hollywood must avoid too much dialogue. Idioms are absolutely forbidden—unless you want to do voice-over, Americans would be utterly lost.

Abandoning the preparations here, William White continued filming. Detective Abroad was easier, with outdoor scenes in Beverly Hills.

Compared to chaotic Downtown LA, filming here was smooth, with fewer random passersby interfering. Many Hollywood films shoot here due to obvious reasons: good security, less dense population, and recognizable locations that help audience immersion.

Of course, there are drawbacks. Filming outdoors in Beverly Hills is damn expensive.

Don’t be fooled by the cooperative local police—they charge steeply. Pay enough dollars, and you won’t need to find extras yourself.

American extras aren’t cheap; they certainly can’t be bribed with a box lunch. Unless filming is fast, this cost can be staggering.

Many so-called blockbusters require massive scenes. Nowadays, special effects are minimal and crude—only slightly better than cheap effects.

Blockbusters are often historical epics with swarms of extras, which can be exasperating.

In America, nothing is cheap—except people.

There’s no way around this. If you dare to shoot a hero film in the US, production costs may exceed a hundred million dollars. Soldiers won’t just cooperate; if they do, they charge, and at a high rate. Unless you’re making something like Top Gun, you’ll be squeezed mercilessly.

Look at American war films—they often start grandly but focus on small characters or units as the main storyline.

It’s not that they can’t shoot large-scale scenes; they just can’t afford it. The opening minutes of Saving Private Ryan cost over ten million. If you tried to film the whole thing like that, a hundred million wouldn’t be enough.

The Russians have the capability but take a different approach—usually just a few gestures in the war room, maybe tapping a map with a pipe, and victory is assured, as if no cost was involved.