Famous! Ch.214

Chapter 214: Continuing the Box Office Battle

The overseas box office performance of Roar and Howl had been astonishing. As a result, Red Sea, a well-known film company in the industry, had secured the distribution rights. In the past, Red Sea had created multiple box office miracles by bringing foreign blockbusters to domestic theaters, witnessing the most prosperous years of the film market.

Foreign blockbusters entering the domestic market had always been highly profitable for Red Sea as the middleman.

As a member of the Code A77 production team, Lu Xu had keenly noticed that ever since Roar and Howl had been suddenly rescheduled for an earlier release, voices predicting the failure of Code A77 had surged across major platforms.

During the promotional campaign for Roar and Howl, its marketing team had used phrases like “the ultimate visual effects feast on the big screen,” emphasizing that it was “unparalleled by ordinary films” and “the global box office champion arriving in the summer season.” They claimed it would “crush all competition”—essentially implying that Code A77 was the competition to be crushed.

The mockery of Code A77 across various platforms had taken many forms. Some had ridiculed its special effects as childish. Others had claimed that its large-scale action scenes were nothing more than discarded scraps from superior films. Some had even suggested that Code A77 was only surviving because of Lu Xu’s looks. While foreign blockbusters could seamlessly blend storytelling and visual effects, domestic films, they argued, simply couldn’t achieve the same standard.

“At least they’re saying something nice about you—don’t take it too seriously,” Wu Ming had tried to console Lu Xu. “They called me a half-baked director, and I didn’t even get mad.”

After all, Code A77 had already reached 2 billion at the box office. If he were a “fully-baked” director, wouldn’t that mean even greater success?

Wu Ming had also disliked the trend of equating foreign films with masterpieces and dismissing domestic films as trash. It was as if supporting local productions made audiences seem like fools.

However, Red Sea had always been known for its massive marketing campaigns. After Roar and Howl had hit theaters, it felt as though the entire internet had been flooded with news about that film alone, while all other movies had vanished into silence.

To counter the competition from Roar and Howl coming from thousands of miles away, Code A77 had adopted a simple strategy—releasing more posters of Lu Xu.

These posters had been in storage. Originally, the director had planned to release one for every hundred million earned at the box office. However, since the film had performed exceptionally well in its early stages, they had to release multiple posters per day, risking audience fatigue.

Since Lu Xu’s posters had been overwhelmingly popular, fans in the official Weibo comment section had flooded the page with requests for more. In response, Wu Ming had simply dropped nine at once, along with a few behind-the-scenes shots.

Though the behind-the-scenes photos hadn’t been as polished as the official stills, they had felt more natural.

Lu Xu had often been wrapped in a down jacket, sitting in a corner. If someone had taken a picture of him, he would have cheerfully waved at the camera. In another shot, a crew member had been celebrating a birthday while Lu Xu had been holding a cake, eager to take a bite—only to be ruthlessly stopped by the director.

[So tragic! It’s just one bite!]

[Let him eat!!!]

[I’m dying of laughter. In an interview, they said that since his character’s costume was mostly tight-fitting, his physique had to be strictly maintained. The production team could have edited his body shape in post, but both Lu Xu and the director had thought that would be inappropriate.]

[He looks utterly devastated. I swear, he didn’t even look this miserable when he lost the Golden Flame Award for Fearless Life. So… a small piece of cake is more important than a Best Actor award?]

[It was a tiny piece! It would’ve digested in no time… so tragic. But apparently, in Mu Lang’s new film, Lu Xu made up for all his suffering—feasting, stuffing himself nonstop, and ensuring he didn’t endure a second of hardship.]

The set of posters released by the official account had quickly surpassed ten thousand likes, and fans had still felt it wasn’t enough, demanding the production team to “release more if they had any.”

The official account had been more than happy to oblige.

The Code A77 production team had mentally prepared themselves for a long wait before breaking the 3 billion mark in box office earnings during the week when Roar and Howl had stormed into theaters. The domestic film originally scheduled for heavy promotion that week had been of a completely different genre, meaning it wouldn’t have posed much competition to Code A77. However, Roar and Howl had been an entirely different story. As another sci-fi blockbuster starring a well-known Hollywood actor, its impact on Code A77 had been anything but minor.

Yet, the box office results on the first day of the second week had left the entire production team stunned.

The surprise hadn’t been Code A77’s 159 million yuan box office for the day, but rather the fact that, despite Roar and Howl’s aggressive competition, the film’s daily earnings had barely fluctuated between the two days.

Roar and Howl had already racked up over 400 million in pre-sales, and with opening-day earnings added in, it had raked in a staggering 1 billion yuan. This had led Red Sea Films to boldly declare, “The king has returned.”

There had been a time when foreign blockbusters had dominated the box office charts, with more than five films in the annual top ten coming from overseas. Some particularly influential films had even managed to secure over 40% of theater screenings, selling tickets at astronomical prices, leaving domestic films with virtually no room to fight back.

But eventually, audiences had grown tired of the same old formula. Domestic films had started producing acclaimed works, and combined with the fact that some foreign studios had adopted an increasingly condescending tone in their marketing despite high domestic box office returns, local productions had finally managed to reclaim market share.

Still, with a film market capable of generating more than 700 million USD at its peak, no film studio in the world could afford to ignore it.

Foreign blockbusters had always sought a grand comeback—to reclaim their former glory.

And in truth, even without making a full comeback, the prospect of earning over 200 million USD outside of North America alone had been an irresistible lure.

With the rise of short-form video content impacting film industries worldwide, Hollywood had been continuously expanding its reach.

On the same day that Roar and Howl had surpassed 1 billion yuan on its opening day, Code A77 had quietly reached a total box office of 2.3 billion yuan.

From a purely numerical standpoint, Code A77 appeared to be completely overshadowed. However, for the production team, the results had still been quite encouraging.

Objectively speaking, Roar and Howl had been a great film—visually stunning with solid storytelling, making it well worth a trip to the theater.

But Code A77 hadn’t been a weak contender either.

On Saturday, Roar and Howl’s box office had dropped to 362 million yuan, while Code A77 had brought in 144 million.

On Sunday, the numbers had been 253 million versus 136 million.

[So strong!!]

[Code A77 just refuses to drop.]

While the first three days’ numbers had indeed shown Roar and Howl outperforming Code A77, the difference in investment scale, screening allocations, and release timing had made Code A77’s low drop-off rate all the more impressive.

The audience’s reviews of both films had provided some insight into why.

Despite Roar and Howl’s marketing emphasis on balancing plot and special effects—and the fact that its lead actor was a rising star in Hollywood—it hadn’t necessarily meant his acting had been better than Lu Xu’s.

After all, praising acting skills in a movie that primarily focused on visual effects had been questionable to begin with.

[Lu Xu looks great.]

[And what’s wrong with that? Didn’t XXX star a top-tier Hollywood actor right after he blew up in popularity? Look at how low its IMDb score is—did that stop it from making big money?]

[Code A77 really isn’t that bad, thank you.]

Director Wu Ming had considered releasing the film overseas. Compared to Observing the Stars at Night, Code A77 had been a far more accessible film for international audiences.

With its record-breaking pre-sales, overseas distributors had already started reaching out.

While Roar and Howl had been making waves in domestic theaters, Code A77 had been introduced to overseas markets under the title: The Movie That Beat Roar and Howl in China.

Whether it had actually won or not—who cared? The claim had already been made.

Besides, Code A77 hadn’t really lost.

For the production team, the domestic box office had been their primary battleground, and the international market had merely been a secondary concern. Wu Ming had never expected the film to become a global sensation.

It was just too difficult.

No film had ever been able to replicate the box office success of Deception, a movie so wildly successful overseas that some had jokingly claimed its title alone—ominous and trickster-like—had scammed foreign audiences into buying tickets.

The entire Deception production team had been speechless at the theory.

By that logic, they might as well name their next movie Bank Heist for even faster earnings.

So when Code A77 had surpassed $100 million in overseas box office revenue, Wu Ming had thought he had misheard.

“How much?”

“$100 million.”

The director: “…”

His mind had gone completely blank, as if it had traveled back to the dawn of time.

For most domestic films, earning even $10 million overseas had been considered a solid achievement.

With Code A77 still running strong in China, Wu Ming hadn’t been paying much attention to its international performance. But somehow, without anyone realizing, it had effortlessly crossed the $100 million mark—and was even holding a relatively high position on North America’s weekend box office charts.

A hundred million dollars was no small feat. Now that they knew, the production team couldn’t just ignore it.

They quickly relayed the news back home and began analyzing why the film had performed so well internationally.

Reason #1: It was visually stunning.

Reason #2: It was incredibly satisfying to watch.

The plot of Code A77 had zero frustrating moments. On top of that, the film had minimal dialogue, sleek action sequences, and an effortlessly cool aesthetic—all factors that had made it more accessible to international audiences.

A quick search for “A77” had revealed an overwhelming number of comments praising Lu Xu’s visuals, with some viewers even recognizing him as one of the leads from Deception.

The claim that “Code A77 was so bad it became a joke” had completely collapsed under its own weight. Not only had audiences been buying tickets, but a significant number of them had been willing to buy tickets again.

[I finally get it. It was never Deception’s supernatural luck—it was Lu Xu’s supernatural luck all along.]

[Certified top-tier puppy idol.]

[This is hilarious. Roar and Howl used its marketing to tear down Chinese sci-fi films just to prop itself up, and now that it’s raking in high box office numbers, it’s still trying to trample over Code A77. The more it does this, the more I want to support Code A77. Why should we just take it?]

[You read my mind. They obviously look down on us, blatantly trying to crush our summer blockbuster.]

Some critics had dismissed these opinions as “narrow-minded,” arguing that movies should be judged on their own merit rather than personal biases.

But just as the word narrow-minded had been thrown around, the lead actor of Roar and Howl had given an interview where he confidently discussed his success and the film’s performance in China.

[…I’m glad they enjoy my movie, but you know, with or without them, nothing would stop my film from succeeding…]

Apparently, when fans spoke up, it was called narrow-mindedness. But when this guy spoke, it was brave honesty.

Then again, his whole Hollywood persona had been built around being “refreshingly blunt.”

While the lead actor of Roar and Howl had been talking confidently in interviews, the film had already raked in $300 million in China, making the Chinese market a crucial part of its global box office success.

Thanks to Red Sea Films’ skilled marketing, his controversial remarks had not gone viral, but one fact remained—he had never personally visited China for promotional activities. During Roar and Howl’s release, he had traveled to more than a dozen other countries.

But the internet never forgets.

Shortly after the interview, Roar and Howl’s box office in China took a steep dive. By the end of its first week, it had been overtaken by Code A77.

On Weibo, the actor’s fans had scrambled to list dozens of reasons proving his supposed love for China—such as knowing a certain Chinese director or having taken a red carpet photo with a Chinese actor.

Lu Xu: “…”

Saying something that stupid was already bad enough. Not even bothering to act polite about it in public? That was a whole new level of stupidity.

At the two-week mark, Code A77 had surpassed 3.2 billion yuan in box office revenue. Industry analysts predicted that while reaching 4 billion would be difficult, the film’s final numbers would likely match those of Fearless Life.

But with summer vacation still ongoing, anything was possible.

Code A77 had no famous director, no A-list co-stars—just Lu Xu’s personal appeal carrying the film’s box office. Even if it failed to cross the 4-billion threshold, one thing was clear: Code A77 was on track to be the summer’s box office champion.

Adding in overseas revenue, Code A77 was currently ranked fourth in the global box office rankings—leaving room for even further growth.

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