Volume 4: White Devil Chapter 171 Art is priceless
Martin White sat in the back seat of a luxury car parked in the TV station's underground garage, his eyes constantly observing his surroundings, his hand holding the stun gun that Page left for him when he got out of the car, hoping that this stun gun could give him some increased sense of security.
"Those white people's safety product companies must be fucking crazy to design such a stupid product! Even if the battery is exhausted, this thing can't kill a mouse, and they actually advertise that it can bring a sense of security to women? If a woman presses this thing in front of him, the pervert will probably praise her for being so interesting..."
After complaining that the stun gun in his hand had no killing power, Martin couldn't help but curse Tommy Hawke, that bastard, in his heart!
He said he would become an actor, but who the hell would have thought he would be this kind of actor? He was traveling around various black communities like he was on a concert tour, and with the cooperation of Page and others, he advertised to the local black people who had never seen the world that he was a black big shot who was going to open a black TV station.
The actors he imagined were those who performed in front of the camera, not in front of the gun...
Just when he was getting nervous, a middle-aged black man wearing a dark blue jacket, a blue shirt, distressed jeans and Nike sneakers approached the car from a distance. He first confirmed that there was no problem with the license plate number, then opened the driver's door and got in.
Although Martin felt that his heart was about to jump out of his mouth, he tightened his face and stared at the black man who got on the bus seriously and fiercely.
"Mr. Martin Hart?" The black man, who looked like a middle-class man, first pushed up his glasses, then looked through the rearview mirror and greeted Martin Hart:
"I am Stanley Jack, the anti-gang honor counselor at Martin Luther King High School in Compton and the youth employment counselor at Compton Community College."
"Are you Big Jack?" Martin tried to make his voice sound calmer and more majestic.
"No, I'm the second son of the Jack family. My oldest brother Bernard is called Big Jack." The middle-aged black man who called himself Stanley started the car and replied, "It's an honor to meet you, Mr. Hart. We didn't know you were so powerful on the East Coast until your white employees introduced you to us."
"My white employee?" Martin was slightly stunned at first, and then a dissatisfied expression appeared on his face: "They told you about me? Who has such a big mouth, Paige? When I'm done, I will pull out all the teeth of this old guy."
Are you kidding? He is so powerful on the East Coast? He has been born into this world for more than 20 years and has nothing to do with the word famous. The most glorious life experience he has had is to become a barber.
"I'm sorry, I didn't know you didn't like people mentioning you." Jack held the steering wheel, apologized sincerely, and drove Martin towards Compton.
Martin maintained the aura of a black gangster: "It's okay. I am always tolerant enough to meet people for the first time and will not use electric shock gloves to leave an unpleasant impression."
"Oh~ Electric shock gloves, I know that stuff, they're Soviet goods shipped from Cuba, right? They're very expensive in Los Angeles. If they're genuine Soviet goods, not Cuban goods, they'd cost more than four hundred dollars. No black person in Compton can afford such a high-end toy. I heard that some people in Miami use these gloves to bet on who can last longer under the electric shock."
"What entertainment do the black people here have?"
"Dog fighting or boxing, black people here don't have as many choices as on the East Coast. There are more than 700 black gangs on the East Coast, but only more than 470 in California. However, there are two largest ones. Everyone either joins the Bloods or the Crips."
"I've heard both names in Miami, so which side do you belong to?"
"We don't join the two major alliances. We are more like an African Star neighborhood mutual aid organization. If others don't cause trouble for us, we won't take the initiative to cause trouble." Stanley said with a gentle smile: "We are the moderates in the black community."
"You do look quite gentle."
"Of course, I do community banking, I work in education, I teach everyone, and I have always done charity work, providing financial support to young people to get jobs or start businesses, whether they are Crips or Bloods."
Martin listened to the other party enthusiastically introducing the situation of black people in Los Angeles like a tour guide, and the panic in his heart had completely disappeared. During the conversation, he already knew that Stanley, who was driving, graduated from a community college like himself, and believed that in order to gain a foothold in this society, he must master a survival skill.
This made Martin have a lot of good feelings towards Stanley Jack.
Stanley drove the luxury car into the African Star neighborhood of Compton and then stopped outside an ordinary residence.
After getting out of the car, he opened the back door himself, adjusted the buttons of his Armani suit , and got out of the car with a stern face.
"How about trying my mom's cooking? Mr. Hart, I'll give the video to my brothers to play for the niggers at the neighborhood bar. Don't worry, everyone will watch it carefully. After they finish watching, you can go over and talk to them. There's no need to waste too much time. After all, there will be too many people and the smell inside will be very unpleasant."
Martin nodded: "Very good, you go and make the arrangements and take full charge of it."
Stanley handed the videotape to a black child outside the door, smiled and took out the change and gave it to the other party, and gave him a few instructions. The seven or eight-year-old black kid immediately ran away with the videotape, and Stanley accompanied Martin into his home.
As soon as I opened the door, I saw six or seven black women sitting around a round table in the living room. They were skillfully packing ten-pound bags of hemp on the table with bags, and each small bag was carefully weighed.
The leader was a kind-looking, fat black old lady. When she saw Martin coming in, she subconsciously stood up and wiped her hands with her apron:
"Is this Mr. Hart?"
"Yes, Mom." Stanley said to the old lady, and then introduced to Martin: "This is my mother. Everyone calls her Mrs. Jack."
"Hello, Mrs. Jack, I'm Martin, Martin Hart." Martin said to the old lady with a smile.
"Hey, you guys should go. Didn't you see that Jack has a distinguished guest?" The old lady clapped her hands and signaled the women to clean up the hemp on the table. "Hurry up and leave. Don't let this place look like a drug lord's lair."
Several black women quickly collected the hemp and simply pushed the door open and walked out.
"Uh... I thought it was Jack's business." Martin breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the women taking away all the hemp.
When he saw that scene just now, he was still worried that the police would show up and arrest him.
"Jack's family doesn't do this kind of business. It's all the neighbors' business. I'm just helping them out when I'm bored, and I let them chat with me to pass the time. This neighborhood is full of warm-hearted neighbors." Mrs. Jack smiled kindly at Martin and said:
"Coming from the East Coast, I guess you haven't had Compton-style soul food. I'll go prepare some for you, Mr. Hart."
"Thank you, Mrs. Jack." Martin thanked the old lady, then looked around the empty living room and said to Stanley next to him, "It looks good here."
Stanley nodded gently. "Yes, the neighbors here in Star of Africa are very kind and the people are simple and honest. This is why my family has settled here for fifty years. It also has another name..."
"Hey~ Stanley~ Hey, Mom, do you have rat poison? Can you give me some rat poison?" Stanley had just finished his introduction when a young black man wearing a gold chain and dressed like a hip-hop singer pushed open the door and walked in. He first greeted him, and then shouted to Mrs. Jack in the kitchen.
Stanley introduced Martin: "My brother, Josh."
Mrs. Jack dragged her fat body to the kitchen door: "Josh? We don't have rat poison at home, but we have mousetraps, dozens of them."
"Forget it. Roger beat the guy's intestines out. It's inhumane to torture him with a mousetrap. I'll go ask the neighbors." Josh, the youngest brother of Jack's family, muttered and turned to walk out.
Martin digested the conversation between the two, then looked at Stanley who was sitting next to him: "What did you and your mother just say about this neighborhood?"
"The neighbors here are warm-hearted, kind, and simple," Stanley said to Martin.
Martin nodded. "Yes, so damn kind-hearted, so damn simple. Do you think this neighborhood called the Star of Africa has another name?"
Stanley pushed up his glasses. "Yeah, that's the name of our gang, too. The Compton Hangman."
…
In Tommy's office, Rick lowered his head and said to Tommy with some guilt:
"Mr. Hawke, the one-hour trial episode of 'Looking for Daddy America' cost half a million dollars. I have tried hard to reduce the cost, but there is no way. Half a million dollars is already the lowest. As far as I know, reality shows with the same theme cost between 600,000 and 750,000 dollars."
The first trial recording of "American Dad" was completed not long ago. After simply arranging the trial recording work of other projects, Rick Luther immediately rushed back to the TV station from the Hollywood production company to apologize to Tommy.
According to the cost budget he had made before, he thought that one episode would only cost about US$350,000 to complete, but when he actually started recording, he found that the expenses were even more than he had imagined.
Originally I thought that the post-production was similar to that of a short film, but when I entered the post-production stage, I discovered that everything was completely different from the vivid production of a short film.
In order to control costs, BT Film and Television Production no longer dared to entrust the TV program production departments of large companies such as Columbia, Warner , Fox, etc. to help with the production, but instead chose Casevina, an independent company in the second tier of the TV program production industry. However, after the project started its trial operation, overspending was still inevitable.
For example, for just one episode of a black reality show without any stars, the other party actually arranged a post-production team of 17 staff members to help with the work during the post-production stage. This was completely unimaginable for Rick Luther.
When the film is in full swing, only two employees will be working on the post-editing stage after the shooting of the materials is completed. Those two employees can complete all the editing, modification, compression of scenes, design of the cover, processing of sound effects and other tasks.
But in Hollywood, there are 17 employees, including editors who are responsible for editing materials, editors who are responsible for reviewing materials, editors who are responsible for reviewing and editing the finished rough film, editors who are responsible for modifying details, dedicated sound effects artists, dedicated visual effects artists, dedicated subtitle artists...
Rick did try to communicate with the other production company and ask if they could streamline the post-production team. However, they just told Rick that this was just a standard configuration in the Hollywood TV program process. They could add more people, but it was impossible to reduce them.
Rick didn't even dare to lose his temper, because as long as he argued, the other party would immediately breach the contract reasonably, not only would he not have to work, but he would also be able to receive full compensation.
"We all know, Rick, that television is not an industry where you can take shortcuts. You have to invest real money to produce quality programs in order to gain a firm foothold." Tommy did not look angry at Rick at all. Instead, he comforted him calmly:
"I said that I would ensure that BT TV's budget for program production and procurement is no less than two million per week. For the sake of black people and television art, we cannot be too concerned about the cost! We must believe that we are doing the right thing! Art is priceless!"
After hearing what Tommy said, Rick immediately looked at his boss with new eyes. No matter how bad this bastard's thoughts were towards black people before, at this moment, he was impeccable.
After all, this means that he has to spend two million every week, rain or shine, to cover BT TV's expenses on program production and procurement.
Two million a week, eight million a month, and ninety-six million a year.
It sounds like a lot, but it is not actually that much. Calculated based on the cost of 500,000 per episode, it is just enough to host four self-made variety shows per week, which cannot fill the seven-day prime time. Moreover, it is impossible to use all 2 million for self-made projects. Part of the funds must be used to purchase ready-made programs.
For example, purchasing some old TV series that were popular or had good ratings to fill the broadcast time, and purchasing non-exclusive and non-first-release series, the cost is much less than self-produced projects. For example, buying the three-year non-exclusive broadcast rights of the , only costing $20,000 per episode.
Nowadays, if you want to make a comedy with the same theme yourself, the cost of a single episode will not be less than 750,000, even if all the actors are not well-known stars.
Two hundred and eighty episodes of "The Beverly Hillbillies" only cost five million six hundred thousand to be broadcast on TV for three years. However, if BT TV wanted to produce a luxurious comedy with 280 episodes and a large number of comedy stars, the total cost would be almost astronomical. Except for the three major TV networks and those giant film companies, no other company in the industry dared to plan such a large project.
Therefore, in Rick's opinion, the two million meant that he had to use one million to help his boss design two homemade programs every week with high enough ratings that could quickly attract advertisers for blood transfusions. The remaining one million would be used to purchase many classic TV series or variety shows in the TV program market to fill his own time.
As the owner of a new TV station, Tommy pays two million dollars per week for program costs, which exceeds 90% of independent TV stations in the United States.
After receiving Tommy's comfort and encouragement, Rick, who was about to rush back to Hollywood to continue working, stood up and said goodbye. No matter how unfriendly Tommy had been to black people before, as long as he paid two million in real money every week, at least he was sincere about the television industry.
He was very curious about what business his boss relied on to make money to support his dream of becoming a television actress.
Unfortunately, he left too early and didn't see Sophia come in. He looked at Tommy behind the desk expressionlessly:
"Jim said if you want him to help you convince clients to take out money in the name of crowdfunding for you to squander and make a TV show, you should call him in person. He said that even if California blacks are real weeds, they still need to be given space to grow."
"Don't fool the black people in California. Can the black people in California afford to spend two million a week? Didn't I tell you to tell them some high-return bullshit to fool those African officials, so that they can take out the aid funds given to them by the United Nations and invest their own corrupt money in us. We guarantee that their investment will double in three years, and then give them some unrealistic benefits, such as arranging a travel agency to let their families travel to the United States, and fooling their wives and children to help them immigrate to the United States, so that they can see the beauty of the United States and believe that we, the rich Americans, will never despise those poor Africans to cheat their money!" Tommy sat up straight with dissatisfaction after hearing Sophia's words:
"I am helping black people make programs. African blacks are the ancestors of American blacks. It is only natural that their ancestors spent money to make programs for their descendants. I am helping black people make programs without charging them, which shows my friendly attitude. It is only natural that they pay for the production themselves. What's more, art is priceless!"
