My teacher is Bruce Lee, who dominated Hollywood.

Chapter 183 Resource Allocation

The roar of engines shattered the tranquility of the California highway.

A red Chevrolet Impala sped along Highway 101. In the driver's seat, Francis Coppola held the steering wheel with one hand and a large cigar between his fingers, letting the wind whip his hair into a mess.

"Qin, I went to see 'Enter the Dragon' last night!" Coppola roared. "The scene at the Colosseum was absolutely brilliantly directed! Your mentor is a born fighter!"

"The audience has been suppressed for too long in this era, Francis," Qin Han had to shout just as loudly. "They need an outlet. The UFC octagon and my master's fists are just helping them shatter the hypocritical shell of 'civilization.'"

Coppola exhaled a puff of smoke, deeply agreeing. As a top director who had made "The Godfather," he understood the weight that popular psychology played in the potential success of a film.

"So, that's why you poured all your money into George?" He flicked the ash from his cigar out of the car. "Lots of people are waiting to see you fail!"

"They don't know anything about movies." Qin Han rarely swore, and threw the script in his hand onto the dial.

I have very familiar memories of "American Graffiti," this cinematic miracle from a previous life.

In its original timeline, the creation of this film was fraught with difficulties: an extremely low budget of $770,000, an intensive 28-day shooting schedule, and the extreme fatigue resulting from shooting entirely at night.

After watching the finished film, Universal executives felt it was an "unacceptable television movie" and attempted to shelve it.

Those older white men simply couldn't understand how a movie without a traditional three-act structure and without a clear main conflict could possibly have box office success.

But Qin Han knew the core of this film: it captured the pulse of the times.

That innocent, carefree summer night of 1962, free from the Vietnam War, was precisely the utopia that the American people, battered and bruised by reality, longed to return to deep in their hearts.

"When the finished film comes out, those who were laughing at us will be even more astonished to see the box office miracle of Han's Films." Qin Han leaned confidently back in the passenger seat. "Today I'm going to see how George's money-printing machine is being assembled."

The Chevrolet Impala exited the highway and turned into the streets of Petaluma town.

Before we even got close to the filming location, a deafening rock 'n' roll blast hit our eardrums.

"Cut! This cut is approved!"

Qin Han pushed open the car door and saw scattered cables, leftover pizza boxes, and more than a dozen brightly colored, exaggeratedly styled retro modified cars.

George Lucas sat next to a huge camera trolley, wearing a plaid shirt stained with machine oil, his hair greasy and plastered to his scalp, his eyes sunken, and heavy dark circles making him look like a drug addict who had been staying up all night for half a month straight.

But when he saw Coppola and Qin Han approaching, a sudden burst of fanatical light flashed in his bloodshot eyes.

"Francis! Qin! You've come at the perfect time!" Lucas excitedly waved the script in his hand. "We did it! The last shot, the group scene at the Myers drive-in restaurant, was absolutely perfect!"

Qin Han handed him a bottle of Coke, and Lucas unscrewed the cap, tilting his head back like someone who had been thirsty in the desert for three days, and gulped down more than half of it in one go.

"Looks like you could collapse on set at any moment, George." Qin Han glanced at the exhausted but unusually excited crew members around him, then looked around at the vintage street scene.

"I'm not going to die! I feel like I could tear a bear apart with my bare hands!" Lucas wiped the water from his mouth. "Thanks to Hans's full investment, filming is two days ahead of schedule. Next up is post-production!"

"This will be the easiest and coolest post-production in film history." He gestured with his hands in the air as if making a famous editing motion: "No complicated special effects, no reshoots. I just need to do one thing: paste these forty-odd great rock songs and Jack the Werewolf's incredibly powerful radio voice onto the screen."

"The music is the soul of this film; the editing rhythm is completely synchronized with the drumbeats. I can deliver the final cut to you in three weeks at most!"

Feeling Lucas's pure creative passion, Qin Han nodded in satisfaction.

"Go for it, George, follow the image in your head." He gave this genius, who had been deeply hurt by the studio, a shot in the arm: "I've already secured all the theater distribution channels with Universal. Hundreds of big screens are empty this late summer, waiting for your celebration."

Lucas's eyes reddened with excitement: In the cruel world of fame and fortune that is Hollywood, to find an investor willing to invest nearly a million dollars is rarer than being hit by a meteorite on the street.

After calming the crew down, Qin Han returned to Coppola's side: "Francis, we've finished discussing the movie. Let's talk about some personal matters."

o

Coppola turned around, took a match from his pocket, and relit the nearly extinguished cigar: "Speak, Qin."

"You're the kind of person who won't do anything without a reason. You dragged me all the way to this petty, gasoline-smelling rural town; it can't just be for more than just being George's cheerleader."

Qin Han crossed his arms and burst into laughter: "I want to visit Ma Long."

Marlon Brando, Hollywood's greatest genius, was also its most troublesome troublemaker.

He is withdrawn, eccentric, and has an extreme aversion to film studios. He just staged a dramatic scene at the Oscars by refusing to accept his Oscar.

Coppola took a deep drag on his cigarette, his thick beard obscuring his complex expression. "What do you want with him? Don't tell me you want to sign him. That guy's a complete lunatic; no agency can control him."

"No, it's just out of personal admiration for the Godfather," Qin Han casually offered. "I know you've kept in touch with him. After all, you're currently being pressured by Paramount to prepare for *The Godfather Part II*, aren't you?"

Upon hearing the name "The Godfather Part II," Coppola's face visibly darkened, and he rubbed his temples in frustration.

"Don't even mention it. Those vampires at Paramount are like sharks that smell blood, calling me ten times a day to urge me to submit the script. I am indeed preparing for it, and I often have to go to Malone's private island in Tahiti to see him."

Coppola paced back and forth in frustration.

"I designed two timelines in the script. One is Michael's downfall, and the other is Vito Corleone's rise in his youth. I wanted Marlon to return, at least to make a cameo appearance in a few scenes in his flashbacks."

"But he was extremely dissatisfied with his salary and hated the condescending attitude of Paramount executives. Every time I went to the island, I had to explain the scenes to him and prepare him mentally, just like coaxing a child."

"Since you're going to give him acting instructions anyway, take me with you. We can arrange a time to go to the island." Qin Han laughed, "Don't forget, when I agreed to invest in Lucas, you promised to take me to his island."

Coppola shrugged. "Okay, I have a flight to Papeete early next month. But I have to warn you in advance, Malone has an extremely eccentric temper, and if he kicks you off the island, I'm not responsible."

"Okay! To celebrate our successful trip, I'll buy you a coffee."

The two went to a nearby coffee shop, and amidst the background music of jazz, Qin Han began to inquire about the script structure of "The Godfather Part II".

Coppola clearly poured immense passion into this masterpiece, eloquently narrating a grand narrative interwoven with two timelines, and a deeper deconstruction of the American Dream.

Qin Han listened quietly. In the unpredictable world of Hollywood, no one understood better than him what "The Godfather Part II" meant.

In the original timeline, this sequel was released in December 1974.

It not only achieved an astonishing box office of over 40 million US dollars, but it was also a complete "Oscar monster".

With eleven nominations, it swept six major awards, including Best Picture, Best Director, Best Supporting Actor, and Best Adapted Screenplay.

It was the first sequel in film history to win the Academy Award for Best Picture, and its artistic achievement is even considered by many film critics to have surpassed its predecessor.

This is an insurmountable peak.

Qin Han quickly outlined Han's Film Company's strategic blueprint for next year: 1974 would be the year Han's Film Company fully took over Hollywood.

This summer, Spielberg's "Jaws" will tear apart North American box office records with the gaping maw of a mechanical behemoth, ushering in a true era of "summer blockbusters."

In the fall, Stallone's "Rocky" will be a bombshell emotional release that will ignite the entire United States.

Qin Han was well aware of the power of this film: its raw and realistic portrayal of the struggles of the lower classes, and the indomitable cry of raising fists in the face of despair, would perfectly resonate with the American people's desperate desire for healing after the Vietnam War and Watergate scandal.

In terms of box office, Rocky absolutely crushes The Godfather Part II; in terms of social impact, Rocky is unmatched.

However, this is Hollywood, with an independent judging system comprised of thousands of self-proclaimed sophisticated, older white men from the Academy—the Oscars.

If Rocky and The Godfather Part II had clashed head-on in 1974, competing for the following year's Oscars—

Qin Han had rehearsed the scenario countless times in his mind, and there was only one possible outcome:

Rocky will win Best Picture, which is inevitable due to political correctness and the sentiment of the times; but the core awards, such as Best Director and Best Screenplay, which reflect absolute artistic level, will surely be won by Coppola's profound, grand, and classically tragic The Godfather Part II.

Our own forces already have enough heavy firepower; we absolutely cannot allow another foreign monster to sneak in and steal our food.

The only way to monopolize the Oscars is to drive the monster "The Godfather Part II" out of the 1974 arena.

If the production of "The Godfather Part II" could be delayed, causing it to miss the release window at the end of 1974 and be delayed until 1975, then the 1975 Academy Awards ceremony would become a pantheon dominated by Hans Brothers Studio.

This is the real reason why Qin Han chose this time to submit the perfect script for "Chinatown," which was enough to shock the entire industry, to Paramount.

Frank saw the immense value in "Chinatown," and Paramount would definitely spare no expense to fund the project.

Qin Han, the director with the first priority to direct, focused his attention on Coppola, who was sitting across from him drinking his coffee.

"Francis, the gangster world you portrayed in *The Godfather* was fascinating. But at its core, it was just a family feud between Italian immigrants." Qin Han cut off the discussion about *The Godfather Part II*: "Have you ever thought about making a truly dark epic that belongs to Los Angeles, to this country itself?"

Coppola put down his coffee cup, his brow furrowing slightly. "What do you mean? You have something new?"

Qin Han took out a copy of the script bound in kraft paper from his black briefcase and pushed it in front of Coppola.

The cover prominently displays three bold, black letters: "Chinatown".

"Frank from Paramount has seen it. He described the script as a premeditated murder of the American Dream in Los Angeles."

"Han's Pictures is in charge of the entire production, with Paramount providing the funding. And I need a top-notch director with sufficient artistic control to helm it."

Coppola glanced at Qin Han suspiciously and turned to the first page: In that instant, the jazz music in the café seemed to be muted.

Ten minutes have passed.

Half an hour passed.

Coppola seemed frozen in place, turning the pages one after another, his breathing becoming increasingly rapid.

Fine beads of sweat appeared on his forehead, and the hand holding the cigar unconsciously loosened, letting the expensive cigar fall onto the ash-covered ground, emitting a pungent, burnt smell.

When he turned to the last page, he saw private detective Jack Gittis watching in the dark as murderer Noah Cross went free and Evelyn died tragically in the street.

Accompanied by that line that sent chills down your spine—

"Forget it, Jack, this is Chinatown."

"My God—"

Coppola slammed the script shut and ripped open the top two buttons of his shirt, as if he would suffocate from the almost solidified despair in the script if he didn't.

He muttered incoherently to himself, looking at Qin Han as if he were a devil from hell: "You're a madman, Qin! You've written a bible worthy of being engraved in film school textbooks!"

He desperately wanted to make this film; the artistic impulse ignited within him like a raging fire.

His internal organs were aching.

"Damn it! Why did you have to show it to me now! Are you torturing me, Qin?" he said through gritted teeth. "I desperately want to direct this movie—but, The Godfather Part II! I'm preparing for The Godfather Part II! That's my lifeline, a mountain of Paramount weighing on me!"

"Francis, you're the Hollywood king who just swept the globe with 'The Godfather,'" Qin Han chuckled, patting his script. "Why let Paramount's capitalists decide your writing schedule?"

"You can make both. Just—delay the production of The Godfather Part II, make Chinatown first, use that movie to sweep next year's awards season, and then go back to polish your Mafia epic."

Coppola looked at Qin Han as if he were a madman: "Postpone? Do you think Paramount would agree? That bastard Frank has been counting down the days until I start filming!"

He was reluctant to give up "Chinatown," a once-in-a-lifetime artistic masterpiece, but he also couldn't bear the pressure of stopping "The Godfather Part II."

"What if I could find you an 'unavoidable event' that even Paramount CEO Frank couldn't refuse?"

Coppola was stunned: "What do you mean? In Hollywood, who's someone these big film sets can't control?"

"Yes. That madman who dared to refuse an Oscar, the genius actor we're about to visit!"