I'm Not A Master, I'm A Director
Chapter 471: Exhausting the Resources of the Theater Chains, Winning the Favor of Film Critics
Now that the North American theater chains had come to him offering their loyalty, he'd be doing himself a disservice if he didn't make full use of them.
That fellow from Regal Cinemas had even gone so far as to shamelessly cling to his thigh. That alone showed just how desperate they had become.
So Shinji's response was simple and direct: he had the man return to North America carrying a mountain of promotional materials.
Thus, the moment the headquarters manager of Regal Cinemas landed back in North America, a crowd was already waiting to greet him.
"Collins, what did Shinji Matou say?"
Faced with the eager questions from representatives of the other theater chains, the manager, Collins, took a sip of water before replying leisurely,
"Shinji Matou is extremely dissatisfied that we've allowed ourselves to be manipulated by film critics."
The moment those words left his mouth, the theater representatives immediately burst into complaints.
"But that's the film studios acting like tyrants! It has nothing to do with us!"
"Exactly! They only supply those kinds of movies. Even if we wanted to screen something else, there wasn't anything available!"
"Our theaters were willing to show Prologue, but Shinji Matou himself refused to release it in theaters!"
...
Only after everyone had finished venting did Collins continue calmly.
"I told Shinji exactly that and begged him not to take it to heart. After my painstaking persuasion, he finally understood our difficulties and agreed not to pursue the matter of our failure to give Time Group's films proper support during this year's summer season."
Everyone chuckled.
TYPE-MOON hadn't released any films that summer, but that didn't mean Time Group hadn't.
The problem was that Time Group's movies, like those from the other studios, were either horror films or arthouse productions, so the theater chains hadn't given them any special treatment.
Precisely because of that, however, the theater owners later became worried that Shinji Matou might retaliate against them, which was why they had sent representatives all the way to Japan to meet him.
If the other studios' films had at least performed well, they would have had an excuse.
But instead, every single movie released during the summer season turned out to be a complete flop. The box office wasn't a competition over who earned the most—it became a contest over who failed the least.
That was when the theater owners truly became afraid.
You treated Time Group's films so poorly, and now you expect Shinji Matou to offer you favorable distribution terms?
He'll probably slash your share of the box office instead!
"Advertising those arthouse films... forget the box office split. How much merchandise could they possibly sell?"
Collins spat on the ground in disgust.
Arthouse films had pitifully little merchandise, mostly limited to different DVD editions. The theater chains couldn't even get a sip of the soup from those sales, leaving them to rely on popcorn and soft drinks to make extra money.
In Collins's eyes, Shinji Matou was a far more generous boss.
Character figures, keychains, special collectible cards, replica movie props... an endless stream of movie merchandise dazzled them.
From the perspective of a theater chain, Collins cared far more about the profits a film could generate for the cinemas than about the lofty artistic ideals or theoretical value it created for the studios.
"So, Collins, does that mean once Shinji Matou's movies return to North American theaters, the good times will be back?"
"Of course! Once Shinji Matou makes his king's return, how can any other movie compete with Fate? It'll be a complete stomp!"
"Exactly!"
Everyone nodded enthusiastically. Representatives from every theater chain began imagining the prosperous second half of the year, all smiles.
Who wouldn't want their theaters to make more money?
Who wanted to keep worrying about credit card bills? Who didn't want a bigger year-end bonus? Who didn't want to take the family on vacation?
"Thanks for making the trip to Japan on our behalf, Collins. The humiliation you suffered there was endured for all of us. We're deeply grateful."
"Don't mention it, don't mention it."
Collins beamed with pride, nodding repeatedly.
Why had he humbled himself by flying all the way to Japan to cling to Shinji Matou's thigh—quite literally?
Wasn't it all to become the leading figure among North America's theater chains?
Now that representatives from every chain treated him like the leader, embarrassing himself in front of Shinji Matou had been well worth it.
If they had been at a banquet instead of an airport, Collins would undoubtedly have been raising a glass and making the rounds with everyone present.
Don't think Westerners don't have drinking culture. Every part of the world does—it just takes different forms and follows different customs.
"Oh, right. I almost forgot the most important thing."
Just as the conversation reached its peak, Collins suddenly spoke up.
"What is it?"
"Shinji Matou didn't forgive us for nothing. The reason he's letting our mistake slide is that he wants us to put real effort into promoting his films. This is the promotional plan for his new movie. Take a good look at it. If anyone fails to follow the requirements when the time comes, don't blame him for what happens."
The group was startled. They quickly took the materials Collins handed out and began reading.
"We're starting to promote FGO already?"
"Schedule a screening of Prologue before the first premiere showing of Hundred Years' War of Evil Dragons?"
"There will be a detailed procedure later. Please follow the arrangements strictly?"
"Set the release date of Armageddon for the week after Hundred Years' War of Evil Dragons opens?"
...
As they read through the documents, thoughtful expressions appeared on their faces.
"Everything else is fine, but arranging the release schedule won't be easy..."
Collins explained, "Don't worry. Time Group will cooperate with us. All we have to do is insist that Hundred Years' War of Evil Dragons must be scheduled for that week, and Armageddon has to come out the following week."
"That's great. We were worried Disney would insist on releasing theirs during the same week, and then Time Group would use that as an excuse to revise the agreement."
"Haha! fantastic! Everyone, get ready to count your money!"
The representatives laughed heartily, and the atmosphere was filled with cheerful optimism.
What every theater chain feared most was putting tremendous effort into promoting a movie, only for Time Group to raise its asking price afterward.
After all, everyone in North America now understood one thing:
Hundred Years' War of Evil Dragons was the only movie capable of saving this year's box office.
If Time Group really chose to exploit the situation by demanding a higher revenue split, the theater chains would truly be finished.
"Oh, by the way, Collins. There's something you don't know."
"What is it?"
Collins's expression darkened.
"Paramount, Universal, Warner, and Fox came together as a group. They said we must uphold the principle of diversity in the film market, and that during the Christmas season we have to reserve a combined 50% of our screening slots for their films."
Collins froze with the cigarette halfway out of his suit pocket.
"So... they're trying to pressure our leadership?"
After he spoke, no one answered.
Everyone in the industry knew exactly what those film studios were like.
Sure, they had only made a request, but if the theater chains failed to meet it, the studios had plenty of ways to retaliate.
For example, they could deliberately sideline a particular chain, ensuring it always received new releases two weeks later than its competitors.
And to the major studios, that was merely a trivial tactic.
If those studios truly united, they were fully capable of driving theater chains into bankruptcy.
"Tch. Busybodies sticking their noses where they don't belong."
Collins lowered his hand. He had completely lost the urge to smoke.
They had finally found a movie that was guaranteed to be a massive box-office success, and now, because of demands from a handful of film studios, everyone would be forced to sacrifice part of their profits?
If you were jealous of Shinji Matou's box office, then learn from Disney and imitate his approach!
What business did you have interfering with the theater chains making money?
"But those studios control a huge number of theaters. If they really unite against us, then we..."
Collins smiled.
"You don't seriously think Shinji Matou is only going to make this one movie, do you? FGO is a long-running franchise. Not to mention that Time Group has plenty of other films. And even if one studio isn't enough, isn't Disney already copying TYPE-MOON's model?"
"There will never be a shortage of good movies," Collins continued. "What matters is whether the films we show actually make money for the theaters."
"I believe the people at the top will choose the option that brings the greatest profit."
"Let's just hope those idiots upstairs make the right decision."
The representatives all voiced their agreement, though judging by their expressions, it was obvious that if their superiors failed to make the right decision, they would help them arrive at the "correct" one.
While North American companies weren't as fond of lower-level employees overthrowing their superiors (gekokujō) as Japanese companies were, North America had something else: labor unions.
Although unions in North America had, in many ways, become little more than organizations serving their own interests, they were still remarkably capable when it came to presenting a united front against outsiders—or stirring up trouble.
If those theater owners really chose to "exhaust the resources of the theater chains to curry favor with the film critics," then it would be time to "close the gates and unleash the union men!"
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While North America's major theater chains stood on the brink of upheaval, with every faction eager to make its move...
Shinji Matou—the very person at the center of the brewing conflict—was living quite comfortably.
As filming drew closer and closer to completion, the various stages of post-production were also being prepared one after another.
Unlike the post-production process for his previous films, this time Shinji intended to rely heavily on magecraft to achieve his goals.
Thanks to the latest advances in Waver's modern magecraft technology, Shinji could now use magecraft to directly process the footage after it had been filmed.
From editing scenes, to compositing visual effects, to adding the background music, the entire post-production workflow could be completed in one seamless process.
The only drawback was its enormous mana consumption.
Creating the finished film inevitably involved repeated trial and error, and every iteration burned through a tremendous amount of magical energy.
Shinji's approach was much like a movie studio using a supercomputer to generate CGI effects—leveraging overwhelming computational power to dramatically accelerate the visual effects pipeline.
And the China leyline that was still in operation served as Shinji's very own supercomputer.