Chapter 61: Promotional Advice

"Mike, use high-speed slow motion for the entire opening sequence."

Standing in the editing room at Rock Studio, Duke stared intently at the footage on the monitor. "Fade in between shot seven and shot eight, then insert explosion shot twenty-three..."

Once Mike Dawson finished directing his two assistant editors through the cut, Duke crossed his arms, watched it for a moment, and added, "Put the wide sunset angle from shot forty-five before shot twenty-three. Right, exactly like that!"

Thanks to their collaboration on Speed, editor Mike Dawson and Duke had developed a tacit understanding. Furthermore, Dawson was now even more convinced of Duke's editing methods, because in the newly released nominations for the 65th Academy Awards, he had received Speed's sole Oscar nomination—Best Film Editing!

This was also the first Oscar nomination of Mike Dawson's life.

Having earned the industry's most authoritative recognition, Mike Dawson completely bought into Duke's post-production philosophy. Take this opening sequence they were establishing for the film: nearly four minutes of action entirely in slow motion. It seemed completely at odds with the film's fast pace, but once cut together, it produced an entirely different effect.

The slow motion highlighted General Hummel's imposing presence and the solemnity of the film's theme. The scene was set in a cemetery; as General Hummel—preparing to launch a military insurrection to seek justice from the government for his fallen, forgotten subordinates—came to bid farewell to his late wife, he happened to witness a soldier's funeral. That deceased soldier received the honor of a flag-draped casket. Through the slow motion of the pouring rain, the incomparable fury burning in General Hummel's heart was starkly accentuated.

"Next up..." he heard Duke's voice again. "Mike, time for our specialty: fast cuts with short takes. Every action shot must be limited to three seconds or less."

Duke was still Duke. Mike Dawson felt it was exactly as he had expected.

Duke didn't know what Mike Dawson was thinking, and he wouldn't have cared even if he did. After a period of breaking in, the two had found their collaborative rhythm and synergy. Their editing efficiency was much higher than during Speed; in less than ten days, they had completed the rough cut.

However, the total length of the rough cut exceeded five and a half hours. Without a longer, more tedious, and meticulous editing process, it would never achieve the effect Duke wanted.

The final cut would certainly be longer than Speed's 96 minutes, but Duke strove to keep the runtime around 110 minutes. This was especially true for Christopher Lee's scenes. Unlike the need to cater to Sean Connery by keeping shots just to showcase his elegant demeanor, this Mason had a far more ruthless and imposing aura. He wasn't the traditional gentleman spy who always felt somewhat artificial no matter how you looked at him.

Duke also simplified some of the tangential subplots as much as possible. This was a film driven by action and thrills; maintaining the most basic narrative logic was enough.

In commercial cinema, a lot of logic is ignored for various reasons, not because it's a plot hole. Take Mason's relationship with his daughter in The Rock, for example. Duke could easily make a separate two-hour movie just to explore their emotional dynamic and psychological shifts. But in this film, any shots unrelated to the core theme had to be minimized to highlight that theme. As long as the fundamental logic connected smoothly, that was enough.

This was also one of the biggest points of conflict between commercial films and professional film critics. Critics always believed that commercial movies deliberately ignored the plot for the sake of explosions and fights. However, to cater to the audience's experience and achieve commercial success, directors had to omit slow-paced details to deliver maximum enjoyment to the paying crowd within a limited timeframe.

As for whether making a commercial film exactly as critics idealized would lose money or bankrupt investors, those bloodsuckers who held high the banner of art while leeching off the industry never once considered it.

If relevant online rating systems existed right now, Duke was confident that after The Rock premiered, its Rotten Tomatoes score would max out at just over sixty percent. On the other hand, he had full confidence that its popcorn index, representing the audience, would soar above eighty percent.

Duke genuinely didn't care about professional ratings. Critics did indeed monopolize the professional discourse, but he wasn't making movies to win awards. Critic scores were just something to glance at and move on.

Just like when Speed was released and Roger Ebert, as if suffering a brain cramp, gave the film a perfect ten, Duke didn't feel any particular joy. Likewise, when the film's average professional media score hovered just above a seven, he didn't feel disheartened. None of that could compare to the tangible profits the film brought him.

Furthermore, in a little over a decade at most, the power over film reviews would no longer rest in the hands of critics. Thinking back to those final few years of his previous life, quite a few top-tier critics in North America had been forcibly terminated by the media outlets they worked for.

Besides, ever since they unleashed a storm of criticism against Star Wars, the influence critics had over a film's box office had been in a steady freefall, and it was already quite weak by now. If he remembered correctly, next year's The Shawshank Redemption would be praised to the heavens by them. Even with a sympathy-driven re-release after the Oscars, its total box office and attendance would still bomb spectacularly. It would take the production and distribution companies over ten years just to recoup their costs.

And what of the film's director, Frank Darabont? A film with such explosive word-of-mouth acclaim did little to improve his situation; he remained a second-tier, perhaps even third-tier, director. Let alone the general audience, even within the Hollywood industry, how many people remembered his name?

This was Hollywood. Professional word-of-mouth couldn't be entirely ignored, but commercial success was far more important!

Who would dare say that directors like Frank Darabont, Sam Mendes, and Rob Marshall, who earned Oscar Best Director nominations or even wins on their feature debuts, held a higher status in Hollywood than Michael Bay, who had never been nominated?

In this era, films had become commodities. This was an undeniable fact. Before making a movie, one first had to pinpoint its positioning and target the potential consumer base. The films Duke had chosen to make were neither for awards nor bound by professional critique; his primary consideration was always commerce.

According to his plans, his next film would even be a massive amalgamation of all sorts of vulgar, cliché summer season elements.

Just as he had said before, as long as he had commercial success as a guarantee, he had plenty of time to hone his skills and transition. Even if that transition failed, he could always come back and continue down his path of super explosions.

Post-production was a process that demanded even more patience than filming. The fine cut of The Rock progressed at a snail's pace. Aside from editing, there were several special effects shots that required compositing. The Pentagon had provided the crew with footage of F-18 Hornets taking off and flying in formation. Duke not only had to select the appropriate shots from the provided material, but he also had to composite the fighter formations into the landscape scenes of Alcatraz Island and the Golden Gate Bridge.

Of course, what drained Duke's energy the most were the action sequences.

"Every fifteen minutes, I want an action scene."

Sitting by the break table, Duke explained several key points for editing action shots to Mike Dawson. "Every action sequence must display a grand scale without losing control. Use fast, short takes and high-speed slow motion to offset any dragging pace caused by long durations. Cut down female character screen time wherever possible. The tone of the entire film is tense and masculine."

"There is one problem, Duke."

Charles Roven, sitting across from him, said, "I just looked at the F-18 footage provided by the Pentagon. Those are Air Force Blue Angels planes, not the Marine Corps."

"It's fine, it's just a minor issue." Duke tugged at the cap on his head. "Although the operation has been led by the Marine Corps the whole time, the film won't specify which branch carries out the final bombing run. The Air Force can launch an airstrike, too."

The Los Angeles Raiders cap Duke was wearing—which he had dubbed his lucky hat—piqued Charles Roven's interest. He pointed to the logo on it and asked, "Is that the team you support?"

"You could say that."

American football was the sport Duke had played the most during his school days, but over the last couple of years, he had paid little attention to it due to work.

"Have you heard?" Charles Roven continued. "The Raiders might be moving out of Los Angeles. They'll very likely return to Oakland."

"Why didn't I know about this?" Duke paused, then realized he hadn't followed any sports news at all recently. "When did this happen?"

"It isn't confirmed yet." Charles Roven thought for a moment. "Word is that after the Super Bowl, the Raiders will be sold."

"Oh..." Duke automatically ignored the second half of Roven's sentence. "The Super Bowl!"

"The Super Bowl!" He suddenly clapped his hands together. "I can't believe I forgot about it!"

Mike Dawson and Charles Roven both looked at Duke in confusion.

"Charles, I'm an amateur when it comes to promotion."

Promotion in this era relied far more heavily on traditional media. Duke truly didn't know much about it, nor did he get involved in distribution and marketing; he always just executed the plans laid out by professionals. Yet, right now, his tone carried a hint of confidence. "Can I make a suggestion regarding Warner's promotional plan?"

According to the contract signed by both parties, Duke's accounting team could participate in the marketing process to audit related financial expenditures. However, as the director, he had no authority to interfere with the actual promotion; he only needed to cooperate with the reasonable plans made by Warner Brothers.

This wasn't the result of a compromise, but standard Hollywood practice. Duke also knew himself well. He wasn't some omniscient, omnipotent genius. Even if he had studied some theories in the past, he lacked practical operational experience. When it came to actual combat effectiveness, he certainly couldn't compare to the professionals at Warner Brothers.

Perhaps when the internet era arrived, he would be able to do a bit more in that regard.

"A suggestion?" Charles Roven frowned.

After spending nearly half a year together, he had gained a certain understanding of Duke. Within his own sphere of authority, the man didn't tolerate arbitrary encroachment from others, but at the same time, he wouldn't blindly overreach into areas outside his jurisdiction. He was, arguably, exactly the kind of director Hollywood producers preferred.

"Yes, a suggestion!" Duke emphasized.