Translator: Nyoi-Bo Studio
Editor: Nyoi-Bo Studio
It had been five weeks since Paranormal Activity had been released. During that time, the movie had achieved an impressive box office gross of 24 million and 158.3 thousand dollars, topping the North American Weekly Box Office Ranking for the fourth week running. But, in the sixth week, as school resumed after the holidays, box office figures across North America waned, and Paranormal Activity recorded a dismal 11 million and 501.7 thousand dollars. Fortunately, weekly box office rankings did not rank movies beyond the fourth week. Otherwise, Paranormal Activity would have slipped to third place.
As box office figures plummeted, everybody assumed that Paranormal Activity’s potential in North America had been exhausted. The number of theaters screening the movie declined gradually, and by the end of the movie’s run, weekly box office income had dropped below 10 million dollars. That said, the movie had no doubt made history. It was a miracle and a legend. Despite its measly production cost of 10 thousand dollars and its modest promotional cost of less than a million, the movie had somehow managed to make 154 million and 200 thousand dollars in North American box offices alone!
Lionsgate Films were already gearing up to release the movie overseas. On the internet, movie fans all over the globe, including Europe and Asia, had expressed a burning desire to see the movie. It was expected that the movie would turn a profit overseas. Its reception might not be as strong as it had been in North America, but there was little question that it would fetch tens of millions of dollars in those regions. It was not hard to imagine that Paranormal Activity’s global box office figure would one day top 200 million dollars.
Film companies and business analysts were stumped by this seemingly supernatural phenomenon. Nobody had ever seen a movie turn a 15-thousand-fold profit until Paranormal Activity had come along. Breathless with awe, a financial analyst on Wall Street told the press, “It turns out the most profitable movie of 1998 is Paranormal Activity, not Titanic. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg. Once the movie hits the overseas market, and the DVD’s start rolling out, we might even see a 30-thousand-times return on investment. Lionsgate Films and that wonder boy have turned out to be quite the cash cow.”
Lionsgate Films had become the pride of America and the envy of every film company in that country. The media loved them. Their humble beginnings coupled with their meteoric rise into success had made for a great story; they’d been hailed as a “unicorn company”. Even competitors took their hats off to them. Their viral marketing strategy for Paranormal Activity had been a stroke of genius. Given how perfectly, in retrospect, things had worked out in their favor, people could not help but wonder if the “rumors” that had flooded the internet prior to the movie’s release were also part of their machination.
Naturally, some film companies had been unhappy about Lionsgate’s success. One company told the media, “Paranormal Activity’s promotional strategy actually came from that Chinese director. He proposed that idea to us when he came to our company to pitch his movie. He had it all planned out from day one. He told us, ‘My strategy is going to drive tons and tons of people into the cinemas; trust me!’ That gaslighting tactic left a bad taste in our mouths. But Lionsgate went ahead with it, which wasn’t the most ethical thing to do if you think about it.”
The fact was that those film companies’ disapproving attitudes toward Lionsgate had been simply sour grapes. A good number of acquisition managers—including Stephen Thomas of Artisan Entertainment—had been fired, suspended, or demoted for missing out on the golden opportunity. When the chairman of Artisan Entertainment had gotten wind that his company was one of the fifty-four that had overlooked Paranormal Activity, he sought an explanation from the CEO. The blame ultimately fell on Stephen Thomas, and he was given the axe.
In the sixth week of the movie’s release, some of the cinemas had finished screening Paranormal Activity, and it was time for Lionsgate to collect their pre-tax commission from the cinemas.
When it had come time to divide the spoils, Paranormal Activity had grossed 154 million and 200 thousand dollars in box offices. That sum had been then distributed between Lionsgate and the theater chains based on a ratio that had been deemed equitable and agreed upon in black and white by both parties.
There had been several types of agreements that had been the convention at the time. One had been known as a “guaranteed price contract”. In such an arrangement, the publishing company would pay a flat fee to a theater chain for a set amount of screen time. For example, Lionsgate Films might have paid 100 thousand dollars to The Vitascope Cinema in exchange for the right to screen their movie between 12:00 a.m. and 6:00 a.m. for a period of one month. All of the income generated by the movie during that month, no matter how much or how little, would have gone to Lionsgate; none of it would have gone to The Vitascope Cinema.
However, such an agreement had not been very popular. In North America at least, the prevailing arrangement between a publisher and a theater chain had been the profit-sharing model. In such an arrangement, the profit-sharing ratio would have been agreed upon by both parties prior to the movie’s release. Over time, the industry had more or less settled on a standard model, which had been a split of 90/10 with a floor of 70 percent.
In other words, Lionsgate would receive a dividend equivalent to 90 percent of the weekly box office income generated by Paranormal Activity, minus any pre-agreed fixed expenses that the theater chains would incur, such as cleaning costs, maintenance costs, and the electricity bill.
But that had been just Plan A. It had also been customary for both parties to agree upon a Plan B. Under Plan B, the publishing company would receive a dividend equivalent to 70 percent (or as low as 60 percent, depending on how the negotiations went) of the total income generated by the publisher’s movie; no deductions would be made for the theater chain’s operating expenditure.
The publisher would then calculate and compare the profit yielded from each plan on a weekly basis. The larger figure would be the dividend paid by the theater chains to the publisher.
Of course, publishers might opt for a 90/10 split for the first three weeks of screening, 60/40 for the fourth and the fifth week, 50/50 for the sixth week, 40/60 for the seventh, and so on. The exact splits and how they tapered off varied from contract to contract. But one thing was for certain—once the agreement had been made, there’d be no going back.
Nevertheless, when all was said and done, when the movie had run its course at the cinemas, it had usually been the case that the publisher and the theater chains each would pocket roughly the same amount of money, making it a 50/50 deal.
Which begged the question—did theater chains ever falsify box office figures? First, it had been a common practice for publishing companies to employ professional investigators to go down to the theaters to verify sales. Sometimes the audits would be preempted; other times they would come without warning. Second, due to the rigorous enforcement of the law in America, and the Internal Revenue Services breathing down corporations’ necks, misrepresentation and forgery of box office income had been seldom attempted. For theater chains, the potential benefits of gaming the system had not been worth the risk of invoking the wrath of the law and losing their reputation.
In this case, Lionsgate and the theater chains had agreed upon the standard model of “90/10 with a floor of 70 percent”. By the end of the movie’s six-week run, Lionsgate Films had received a cut of 91 million and 760 thousand dollars out of a total box office income of 154 million and 200 thousand dollars, which had been nearly 60 percent. After deducting their investment of three million dollars, which had covered promotion, publishing, transportation, printing, and other miscellaneous costs, the film company’s pre-tax profit for the six-week release had finally amounted to 88 million and 750 thousand dollars.
At that point, the pre-tax profit for the North American region had yet to reach 100 million dollars. Given that there had only been around 500 theaters left screening Paranormal Activity, and that the profit-sharing ratio between Lionsgate and the theaters had wound down to 40/60, it’d seemed unlikely that the movie would ever achieve a pre-tax profit of 100 million by the end of its run. So Wang Yang had agreed to receive a 40-percent dividend from Lionsgate Films.
After accounting for all the gains and expenses, the finance department of Lionsgate had proceeded to submit various taxes to the Internal Revenue Services. Although corporate tax policies at the time had been conducive to small enterprises like Lionsgate, the company had still ended up paying 20 percent in taxes. The after-tax profit had come to 71 million and 580 thousand dollars, of which Wang Yang had received 28 million and 632 thousand dollars.
But that had not been the end of it. Wang Yang had still had to pay a Federal individual income tax to the Internal Revenue Services, a state income tax to the state of California, and many other taxes. Given the multitude of taxes one had had to pay in America, it had been difficult for the average person to ensure he paid them duly, let alone wisely. So Wang Yang had taken a trip down to Trust Law Group and consulted Hebel Carl on the tricky matter of tax avoidance. After a lengthy discussion, it had dawned upon him that his hard-earned income of 28 million and 632 thousand dollars would be reduced to 21.4 million after taxes.
Of course, Wang Yang had not had to file and pay his income taxes right away. In America, individual income tax returns were to be submitted annually and would be due on the 15th of April, also known as “Tax Day”. Wang Yang would safe as long as he filed his returns by then; but failure to do so constituted tax evasion, a serious offense in the Internal Revenue Service’s book. Long arduous audit and cruel punishment awaited those who did not play by the rules.
Wang Yang had had no intention of delaying his tax payments. But as his dividend was still being disbursed to him piecemeal, he’d thought it best to pay his taxes next year in a lump sum, after he had collected all his earnings. By then, he would have received 21 million dollars in cash and become a multi-millionaire.
Lionsgate had not divulged to the media how much money Wang Yang had made from the movie, but that had not discouraged them from snooping around. The media had managed to find some information, and putting the pieces together, they had come to an estimate of low seven figures. Lionsgate did not comment on that, thus affirming their assumptions. The Vice President of Publishing, John Feldmeyer, had stated, “He has made himself a fortune that most people can only dream of—and at an impressively young age of 18, no less. I hope he’ll cherish his wealth and his success, and I wish him good luck on his future endeavors!”
“America’s Youngest Multi-Millionaire.” That had been the new title given to Wang Yang by The Los Angeles Times. The media company had even sought the opinion of a professional analyst in its article, who’d pegged Wang Yang’s net worth at over 20 million dollars. According to him, once Paranormal Activity was to hit the international market and begin expanding its distribution pipeline, his net worth might very well exceed 30 million dollars.
The tabloids did not affect Wang Yang the slightest. When people asked him what he thought of his newfound title, he was noncommittal. But in truth, he much preferred “America’s Youngest Director” to “America’s Youngest Multi-Millionaire”.
Despite all the fame and fortune, Wang Yang’s life remained relatively unchanged. He still lived in the same old, rented apartment, except that all the old, dilapidated furniture had been replaced with new ones. The living room had been equipped with a high-end home entertainment system to match his ambition in life. Scores of newly-purchased DVDs lined his newly-purchased shelves, ready to be enjoyed. To top it off, he had also bought a two-door Chevrolet coup so that he could travel around easier.
As the days went by, the media gradually lost their interest in him, partly due to his reluctance to entertain them. On an occasion, Vanity Fair invited him for a photoshoot and an interview, but he declined. He would rather stay in the comfort of his home and read books and watch movies instead of having his photos taken. He was not the type of person who would enjoy the attention. He had no desire to pose in front of a camera; in fact, he had no desire for being in the limelight at all.
He had resolved not to get carried away by things like magazine interviews and celebrity parties. He had his whole life ahead of him, and he was certain that he should focus on improving himself, not wasting his time and energy on unnecessary temptations. He knew he could easily become irrelevant if he did not stay on top of his game. He reminded himself constantly, “Yang, you’re still an amateur. You’re nothing. Don’t you remember what happened to the creators of The Blair Witch Project? Do you want to end up like them? Remember your dream! Be a director. Don’t stop making films.”
And so, Wang Yang turned down the invitation to Vanity Fair’s interview, along with all the other party invitations. He knew that a movie’s success ultimately depended on the movie itself, not how many parties its director had attended or how many magazine covers his face had graced.
After Wang Yang had seen through the post-release promotional events for Paranormal Activity, he faded from the public’s view. He had retired into a simple and quiet life which consisted mostly of reading and watching movies at home, occasionally chatting with Jessica and his other friends through the phone and going out for some fun from time to rime. During that time, he also joined the Director’s Guild of America (DGA). But despite his low-key lifestyle, he still could not evade the prowling gaze of the tabloid. In the last two days of September, his name appeared in the papers once more.
The media’s renewed interest was spurred by an announcement made by Lionsgate regarding a new project. They were planning to produce Paranormal Activity 2 and had acquired the sequel rights from Wang Yang at a price of five million dollars.
True to the rumors, Wang Yang’s coffers grew again. This time by five million dollars. At first, Lionsgate had offered Wang Yang a million dollars, but he had not even batted an eye. Playing hardball, he dropped a hint to John Feldmeyer. “New Line Cinema, Artisan Entertainment, and many others have contacted me. They know I still have the rights to the sequels and they’re lining up for the chance to acquire it.” It was true. New Line Cinema, Artisan Entertainment, Dimension Films, and all the film companies had now been the ones coming to Wang Yang’s door, hat-in-hand, begging for a chance to get in on his movie franchise. But Wang Yang had turned them down, one by one.
Wang Yang had, by no means, been saving himself for Lionsgate. He was grateful to them for giving him his big break, but it was not as if they had done it out of charity. They had profited handsomely from the deal, and he had not felt indebted to the company. He was prepared to sell his sequel rights to the first company that met his terms.
Lionsgate had raised their offer from one million straight to five million. But Artisan Entertainment, determined to secure the rights, had raised their offer to seven million. To sweeten the deal, they’d even thrown a 20 percent dividend on box office income on top of it. But in the end, Wang Yang had gone with Lionsgate at a price of five million with a 20 percent dividend on box office income. Wang Yang had chosen Lionsgate for a couple of reasons. First, he’d had a good relationship with the company. Second, he’d worried that Artisan Entertainment might renege on his dividend. Third, he’d known from his visions that Lionsgate had had a knack for producing horror movie sequels. Although the market had still been saturated with Paranormal Activity at the time, they should have no problem introducing a sequel a year later and turn a profit from it. That said, Wang Yang had been more concerned about protecting the Paranormal Activity franchise than taking his 20 percent dividend.
By their generous offer, it had been quite evident that Lionsgate had had high hopes for Paranormal Activity 2. No sooner had they paid for the rights than they trumpeted their new acquisition. At the same time, they had announced that Paranormal Activity 2 would not be directed by Wang Yang. John Feldmeyer, now the star of Lionsgate, had told the media, “We’ve decided not to let Wang Yang direct this one because we wanted to take the movie in a new direction. The sequel would be set in an office environment, which is not something an 18-year-old man is used to.”
The news did not come as a surprise to movie fans. Apart from a vocal minority, who had proclaimed they would not watch a Paranormal Activity movie unless Wang Yang directed it, the majority of the public had taken a wait-and-see approach. Members of the media expressed their views on Wang Yang’s dismissal from the franchise in their respective articles. The Los Angeles Times wrote, “While the talented young man has added five million to his net worth, his career had taken a big hit. Having been cruelly cast aside by his former publisher, he is now a director without a voice. It seems unlikely that any film company would give him a chance to shine again.”
The Chicago Sun-Times quoted something Wang Yang had said on The Oprah Winfrey Show. “No, I don’t think I’ll be making horror movies any time soon.” Making sport of the director, the Chicago Sun-Times wrote, “Perhaps Yang had known all along he wouldn’t be hired to direct Paranormal Activity 2. A colleague of mine once asked me why he didn’t choose to produce the sequel himself with his own money and make another 100 million dollars. But that’s the genius of it; he went for the cold hard cash, he’s set for life, and he doesn’t have to worry about the movie. Then again, what can Yang make besides DV horror movies? Will we ever see another movie coming out from him?”
Having read the article, Wang Yang joked about it with Rachel over the phone. “He’s right, I’ll give him that. I’ve got it made now. All I have to do is sit back and let the money roll right in. Life is sweet.” Rachel laughed and said, “Yeah, it fits right into your retirement plan.” Wang Yang, laughing with her, said, “No, I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to retire. I want to make a second movie—a musical. You know that.” Rachel asked, “So you’ve decided?” Wang Yang nodded and said seriously, “Yes, I have.”
The living room in the apartment now looked different. The sofas that were riddled with holes had been replaced with new wicker couches. His computer was no longer in his bedroom; it now sat on a new desk, which was located in the living room and burdened with several books, a model of a movie camera, and a pot of daffodil.
Wang Yang sat in front of his desk, staring at a blank document on the computer screen with a frown of attention. He pondered what his next movie was going to be.
The ’70s saw the decline of musicals. But in the ’90s, there were a few good musicals. One of them was Disney’s “Sound of the Desert”, which was a big hit, but it was an animated movie. As far as live-action musicals went, Evita was considered one of the more successful ones, but it merely broke even. Besides, it had Madonna as its lead actress.
The only musicals that made any money were the “fake musicals” like Sound of the Desert.
Musicals had come a long way since the golden era. Musicals at the time were a very different animal compared to the musicals of yesteryear. There was more emphasis on the plot. Gone were the days of straight stories, where actors and actresses sang and danced from the beginning of the movie until the end. The future of musicals lay at the intersection of plot and theatrics. It was by delighting the audiences with both songs and stories that the musical genre would be revived. The music should serve to enhance the plot, not stand alongside it as a distinct and equal element.
How exactly would the musical genre be revived? In 2000, Dancer in the Dark would take the world by storm in plain dark-horse fashion. In 2001, Nicole Kidman would be nominated for the Academy Award for Best Actress for her role in Moulin Rouge! Then, in the following year, Chicago would knock it out of the park at box offices as well as award ceremonies, winning countless accolades, including the 75th Academy Award for Best Picture (2002-2003). Then, further into the future, there was Black Swan.
Those movies were not musicals in the traditional sense. What endeared them to the audience were their unforgettable plots and their captivating dialogues. For example, Chicago and Black Swan both centered around themes of love and human desire. The music and the songs were just an accompaniment.
Musicals like these relied heavily on artistic talent and big budgets. The key was a star-studded female cast; anything short of Oscar-level talent simply would not do. Given his situation, he might be able to fork out 20 million dollars for his movie. But even then, no award-winning actress would be willing to act for him. They did not need the money. They did not need the work. They would not risk their reputations to act in a movie that might have received a Rotten Tomatoes’ award for “worst movie of the year”.
Wang Yang crossed the idea from his mind. That left him with the second alternative, which was musicals centered around youth culture and schools. Musicals like these were nothing new. Examples included classics like Grease from 1978 and Flashdance from 1983. Their themes were lighthearted, fun, and simple, and they captured the zeitgeist of the youths of their respective eras: the pursuit of dreams, love, and passion.
If done properly, the movie would stir a cinematic craze the likes of which the world had never seen, capturing the hearts and imagination of students across the globe.
The next wave would come later in 2006 when a television film called High School Musical took the world by storm. Incidentally, Step Up would also be released that year. Musicals centered around youth culture and schools would see a renaissance. Film companies would churn out several more hits, such as Camp Rock and Bring It On, opening the floodgates to hundreds more. Finally, the market would be filled with similar titles produced by people of varying caliber.
“High School Musical?” Wang Yang muttered to himself. It was no doubt an excellent movie. It perfectly captured the essence of a musical in a high school setting. It was fresh, spunky, and upbeat. It had a positive message that everybody could relate to. It had music and choreography that resonated with youths at the time. Its cast was physically attractive and had great appeal to its target audience. It had all the right ingredients. It was bound to be a big hit among students.
Wang Yang considered carefully how difficult it would be for him to produce High School Musical. The setting was no problem; the musical would be shot mostly in a high school, an environment he was familiar with. The technicality was no problem; the movie did not call for complicated shots, fancy stunts, or special effects. The casting was no problem either; Jessica, Rachel, and Zachary were all fine candidates. And despite the scarcity of big-name actors in Hollywood, there was no shortage of young talent who had the skills and the looks to do the job.
The only problem in producing a musical was orchestrating the choreography and writing the songs. But he could hire professional choreographers and songwriters to take care of it. So they were hardly an issue.
However, it was 1998. Was it the right time to introduce High School Musical? Would the market respond positively? Wang Yang rubbed his chin and furrowed his brows as he thought about it, careful not to let his personal biases cloud his judgment.
As a young man himself, he knew he would be the first in line at the cinemas if there was a high school musical that was popular at the time. The reason was simple—he loved music and he loved to dance and he was not alone. Dance floors at pubs were always filled with people. Dancing would never go out of style. No matter which era it was, young people had an innate desire to shake their bodies and lose themselves in the music.
But that reason alone was not enough to justify the movie. After all, if one could go to pubs and get his fix at the dancefloor, why should he go to the theaters and watch a movie about dancing? Therefore, the movie should not just be about the dances. It should fulfill some other needs of the audience.
Wang Yang introspected again. He missed life in high school. He’d been spunky and ambitious back then, and he would have wanted to see a movie that reflected his attitude in life. He would go for a movie like High School Musical, but that was just the opinion of a college dropout. But even if he were a high school student, he would still go for it. He would go for the story, as it offered a high school experience that was far more extraordinary and eventful than his own. He could see himself escaping into that world and sharing in the lives and adventures of the protagonists as they sang, danced, loved, and reached for the stars.
Besides, if all his friends had seen it, he would be an outcast not to.
That was the reason why High School Musical had been such a huge success in the future. That was the reason why Grease had grossed nearly 400 million in box offices worldwide with only a budget of six million dollars. They resonated with the target audience on a fundamental level. They embodied the ideals of youths in all their angst and desires, hopes and dreams, and drive and optimism.
In truth, there was always a market for high-school-themed musicals, no matter which era it was. And at that time, the market was particularly ripe for such a movie. The younger generation was practically begging for their very own Grease.
And although High School Musical was produced in 2006, its content, style, and cinematography would not seem out of place in 1998.
It should be noted that High School Musical had its roots as a television film. At first, it had aired on the Disney Channel. At that time, Disney was only testing the waters, and they did not invest a lot of money into advertising the show. But in the end, the series started a musical craze in high schools across America and subsequently the whole world, attracting over 170 million viewers. The show had reintroduced musicals to the younger generation, who went wild over it. The series turned out to be a greater success than Disney had anticipated, so they came up with High School Musical 2, which was also aired on television. The franchise’s overwhelming popularity continued with the sequel, and when High School Musical 3 reached the silver screen, it grossed over 252 million dollars in box offices worldwide.
But would High School Musical 1 be as successful if it were released on the big screen instead of television? Wang Yang was uncertain. But he thought the odds were in his favor. Amongst the trilogy, High School Musical 1 was the most well-received. High School Musical 2 took some unnecessary risks by changing the story’s setting to a holiday villa and making the plot more convoluted than it should have been. While it still managed to break rating records, movie fans expressed their disappointment, and many decided to forgo watching the movie. In consequence, High School Musical 3 took the story back to high school and streamlined its plot. Nevertheless, it was deemed by movie critics and fans as a cash grab movie.
In other words, the last two movies of the trilogy were largely riding on the wave of the first movie’s popularity; their sole purpose was to monetize the brand. The situation was best described by saying, “first time’s the promise, second time’s the shrug, third time’s the charm” but with the opposite meaning. Besides, who would want to pay to watch the third movie if they got to see the first two on television for free? If the first movie was released on the big screen, this would not be a problem. That said, High School Musical 3 still grossed over 252 million dollars in the box office, which was a considerable sum.
Besides, the impressive television ratings and the 252-million-dollar box office gross were just the cherries on top of the High School Musical cake of success. There were also the phenomenal DVD sales, the best-selling movie soundtracks, the packed “on-stage” performances, and many more… all thanks to the popularity and fanbase generated by High School Musical 1. With the right promotional strategy, High School Musical 1 might very well be the next Grease when it hits the silver screen.
Of course, many modifications had to be made, especially with regards to shooting. Television films were shot with a small television screen in mind. Compared to shooting a movie, there was a definite difference in production methods, from the way the actors performed to the way the set was arranged. These were the inherent peculiarities of producing a television show; they were not budget constraints. If High School Musical was to be screened in the cinemas, it had to be tweaked; it had to conform to the styles and quirks of the silver screen.
Wang Yang ruminated silently on the alterations that would have to be made with the movie. Suddenly, his cell phone buzzed. He shook his head, scattering his thoughts, and reached across the desk for his cell phone. By the caller ID, he knew it was Jessica. He pressed the button that answered the call, and looking at the pot of daffodils, he spoke. “Hi, Jessica. What can I do for you?”
“Hi, Yang,” said Jessica in her delightfully sweet voice, “I’m fine. I’m just calling to have a chat with you.””Oh! Are you busy? Did I catch you at a bad time?” she said apologetically.
“No, I’m just thinking about some stuff,” Wang Yang said and laughed casually. Then, he asked without preamble, “Jessica, can you dance?” He knew Jessica would later star in a youth-targeted dance film called Honey in 2002. She was fabulous in that movie, but she would have a dance coach. Wang Yang wondered if she knew how to dance presently.
Jessica stood silent a minute then said “oh”. She did not understand why Wang Yang had asked her that question. She thought maybe he wanted to ask her out to a dance, and her heart lurched. “No, I can’t dance. I’ve never learned how to,” she said embarrassedly, shaking her head. “Oh, I see…” Wang Yang said in a disappointed tone that made Jessica’s eyebrows knit. “Yang, are you going out to dance?” she probed, sounding deeply concerned.
“Oh no, not now,” Wang Yang said with a smile. “I’m thinking of making a high-school themed musical,” he explained.
The news struck Jessica, and her heart skipped a beat. Surprised and thrilled, she cried, “Oh, my God! Are you serious? You’re going to make a high school musical?” And at that moment, she suddenly realized why Wang Yang had asked her if she knew how to dance; he obviously wanted to cast her. “Oh, snap! What have I done? Oh, God!” she thought to herself regretfully and hit her head with the heel of her hand.
“I see,” Wang Yang said. Fiddling with the model of a movie camera on his desk, he told her smilingly, “You know how much I love making movies. Besides, I have the means to do it now as I’ve just received a lot of money. I’m leaning toward making a high school musical for now. I estimate it’ll cost a few million dollars. Self-financed, of course.”
“Oh, my God! A high school musical. But I can’t dance…” Jessica thought to herself. She did not know what to say. She felt sorry for herself and for Wang Yang. “Yang, is there a role I can play?” she asked with a frown.
“I haven’t written the script yet, but it’s going to be set in a high school. I’m sure there’ll be a role for you.” Wang Yang stood up and started for the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water. “But I need someone who can dance—” As soon as Wang Yang began to speak, he was overridden by Jessica. “Yang, I can learn to dance!” she said swiftly and eagerly.