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In an unprecedented move of sheer desperation， it took the kowtowing antics of a movie producer to catapult a film’s popularity and push its earnings into the multi-millions.
Song of the Phoenix， an art-house film featuring relatively unknown actors， graced local headlines this summer for all the wrong reasons. In a bid to revive the film， which returned a poor screening rate of less than 1 percent in its first week， 63-year-old producer Fang Li was seen kowtowing for more cinema screening slots on a live-streaming interview. Fang’s bizarre plea saved the film. Many moviegoers， out of either curiosity or sympathy， flocked to theaters to watch the film.
By July 6， Song of the Phoenix had grossed unexpectedly high box office earnings of $13 million after its two-month release ended in China—a rare feat for movies of this genre.
The film is a tale about two generations of Chinese folk musicians who dedicate themselves to playing the suona， a double-reeded horn used frequently in combination with other musical instruments in traditional wedding and funeral ceremonies. Among all the tunes played with the suona， Song of the Phoenix is the most complicated， requiring exceptional skills. It’s usually reserved for the funeral of a highly respected person.
You Tianming， a young， talented suona apprentice with high moral integrity， is chosen by his master to play Song of the Phoenix. It takes You years to study the tune before managing to form his own troupe， only to discover the painful truth that the music played with the suona is becoming outdated in modern China. How can Chinese folk culture struggle to survive in a modernized country？ This is the question raised by the film.
Lu Wei， an eminent Chinese scriptwriter， hailed Song of the Phoenix as the only movie released this year that provides an authentic representation of China’s folk culture. And it won the Special Jury Prize at the 2013 Golden Rooster and Hundred Flowers Film Festival， one of China’s top film festivals.
Named after the suona tune， the film was the swansong of director Wu Tianming （1939-2014）， a renowned filmmaker and godfather of China’s fifth-generation directors who include Zhang Yimou and Chen Kaige. Wu， born in northwest China’s Shaanxi Province， received many accolades including a range of domestic and international awards in the 1980s for Old Well and Life. Shortly after Song of the Phoenix’s completion， Wu died of a heart attack in March 2014. The film’s release was subsequently postponed for two years. Begging bowl
Song of the Phoenix has been on a roller coaster ride over the past two months. Before its premiere， many filmmakers， including Ang Lee， the Oscar Award-winning director of Crouching Tiger， Hidden Dragon， Zhang Yimou， director of Hero， and Chen Kaige， director of Farewell My Concubine， voiced their support for the film. When it opened on May 6， the film was rated 8.4 points on a 10-point scale on Douban， a Chinese book and movie review website， outperforming 85 percent of other features.
But the film flew under the radar for many moviegoers. Its box office performance was less than 3 million yuan （$448，500） in the first week， barely enough to cover marketing costs. The screening times of either early morning or after midnight didn’t help matters.
To save the film， Fang put his ego aside and went on his knees to beg for more screening opportunities. His efforts clearly got his audience’s attention， while also fulfilling the last wish of a deceased and respected director and helping to preserve traditional culture. As a result， Song of the Phoenix earned a much larger audience and a mass release nationwide. More than 300 theaters across China arranged prime-time slots for the movie and its screening rate shot up to 10 percent at one point， which is usually the peak for a film.
The film continued to surprise when its release period was prolonged to two months， thanks to persistent praise from audiences. Its$13 million earnings are among the largest box office receipts generated by Chinese-language art-house films in recent years.
Yet， some have criticized the kowtowing as a promotion stunt that has set a bad example for film marketing. Shi Chuan， Vice President of the Shanghai Film Association， said， “Any behavior that is not in accordance with market rules will harm the healthy development of China’s film market.”
Carving a niche
In fact， pleas are a frequently used strategy to get audiences to fill seats for Chinese art-house films， which have long struggled to find a niche market.
But not every art-house film in China is as lucky as Song of the Phoenix. Red Amnesia， a 2015 film by renowned sixth-generation director Wang Xiaoshuai， failed to solicit filmgoers’support after Wang wrote a public letter.
One explanation for the box office failure is that most Chinese moviegoers prefer star-studded blockbusters with special effects， said Wang Yao， an assistant fellow with the Department of Film Studies at Beijing Film Academy. Yet， art-house films are usually produced on a shoestring budget with a non-star cast and scant use of special effects. Consequently， they have less public appeal. Lack of marketing funds and promotional experience is another reason for the failure.“Given their tight budget， funds for promotion are insufficient. Consequently， most marketing companies are reluctant to take orders from art-house filmmakers，” said Li Jun， a veteran film critic and founder of Blowup Films， a marketing company specializing in promoting art-house films， in an interview with Oriental Outlook. For example， Song of the Phoenix’s marketing budget amounted to $448，500， far less than that of most commercial films.
In addition， many art-house films don’t feature current trends， making it more difficult for them to engage a large audience. Theaters thus end up squeezing out art-house films to make more screening time for profitable blockbusters.
However， there are some successful arthouse genre productions that have bucked this trend. Black Coal， Thin Ice， a 2014 Chinese arthouse thriller and winner of the Golden Bear， the top prize at the prestigious Berlin International Film Festival， raked in more than $16 million in earnings. Mountains May Depart， a 2015 film by Jia Zhangke， a leading figure among China’s sixthgeneration directors， took nearly$4.7 million in box office sales after running 17 promotional road shows in a row.
China’s film market is the world’s second largest， with box office takings of $6.8 billion in 2015， according to the State Administration of Press， Publication， Radio， Film and Television （SAPPRFT）. As long as a film is good enough and the producers apply proper marketing strategies， art-house films can also captivate target audiences， and make profits.
Help at hand
One possible solution for developing art-house movies lies in the segmentation of China’s film market. More cinemas dedicated to showing arthouse films should be established， say film experts. This will provide more access for those who love this genre.
“It takes a longer time for arthouse films to recoup the cost of filmmaking； therefore specialized cinemas are needed to enable such movies to be released in a low frequency over a long time，” Wang told Beijing Review.
Currently there are only three specialized cinemas releasing art-house films in Beijing， a city with more than 21 million residents.
Another solution being discussed by filmmakers is the development of more effective promotion strategies and marketing campaigns. Art-house films are badly in need of help from professional marketing teams to reach their audiences， said Li， who was previously head of Rearwindow Film， a Jiangsu-based movie marketing company. In mid-June， Li set up Blowup Films in Shanghai. One of the strategies that Blowup Films plans to use is organizing salons for target audiences to generate free word-ofmouth advertising.
Another piece of good news is that the Central Government has decided to fund arthouse filmmaking. According to regulations jointly issued by the Ministry of Finance and SAPPRFT last year， quality art-house films will be subsidized.
Song of the Phoenix， an art-house film featuring relatively unknown actors， graced local headlines this summer for all the wrong reasons. In a bid to revive the film， which returned a poor screening rate of less than 1 percent in its first week， 63-year-old producer Fang Li was seen kowtowing for more cinema screening slots on a live-streaming interview. Fang’s bizarre plea saved the film. Many moviegoers， out of either curiosity or sympathy， flocked to theaters to watch the film.
By July 6， Song of the Phoenix had grossed unexpectedly high box office earnings of $13 million after its two-month release ended in China—a rare feat for movies of this genre.
The film is a tale about two generations of Chinese folk musicians who dedicate themselves to playing the suona， a double-reeded horn used frequently in combination with other musical instruments in traditional wedding and funeral ceremonies. Among all the tunes played with the suona， Song of the Phoenix is the most complicated， requiring exceptional skills. It’s usually reserved for the funeral of a highly respected person.
You Tianming， a young， talented suona apprentice with high moral integrity， is chosen by his master to play Song of the Phoenix. It takes You years to study the tune before managing to form his own troupe， only to discover the painful truth that the music played with the suona is becoming outdated in modern China. How can Chinese folk culture struggle to survive in a modernized country？ This is the question raised by the film.
Lu Wei， an eminent Chinese scriptwriter， hailed Song of the Phoenix as the only movie released this year that provides an authentic representation of China’s folk culture. And it won the Special Jury Prize at the 2013 Golden Rooster and Hundred Flowers Film Festival， one of China’s top film festivals.
Named after the suona tune， the film was the swansong of director Wu Tianming （1939-2014）， a renowned filmmaker and godfather of China’s fifth-generation directors who include Zhang Yimou and Chen Kaige. Wu， born in northwest China’s Shaanxi Province， received many accolades including a range of domestic and international awards in the 1980s for Old Well and Life. Shortly after Song of the Phoenix’s completion， Wu died of a heart attack in March 2014. The film’s release was subsequently postponed for two years. Begging bowl
Song of the Phoenix has been on a roller coaster ride over the past two months. Before its premiere， many filmmakers， including Ang Lee， the Oscar Award-winning director of Crouching Tiger， Hidden Dragon， Zhang Yimou， director of Hero， and Chen Kaige， director of Farewell My Concubine， voiced their support for the film. When it opened on May 6， the film was rated 8.4 points on a 10-point scale on Douban， a Chinese book and movie review website， outperforming 85 percent of other features.
But the film flew under the radar for many moviegoers. Its box office performance was less than 3 million yuan （$448，500） in the first week， barely enough to cover marketing costs. The screening times of either early morning or after midnight didn’t help matters.
To save the film， Fang put his ego aside and went on his knees to beg for more screening opportunities. His efforts clearly got his audience’s attention， while also fulfilling the last wish of a deceased and respected director and helping to preserve traditional culture. As a result， Song of the Phoenix earned a much larger audience and a mass release nationwide. More than 300 theaters across China arranged prime-time slots for the movie and its screening rate shot up to 10 percent at one point， which is usually the peak for a film.
The film continued to surprise when its release period was prolonged to two months， thanks to persistent praise from audiences. Its$13 million earnings are among the largest box office receipts generated by Chinese-language art-house films in recent years.
Yet， some have criticized the kowtowing as a promotion stunt that has set a bad example for film marketing. Shi Chuan， Vice President of the Shanghai Film Association， said， “Any behavior that is not in accordance with market rules will harm the healthy development of China’s film market.”
Carving a niche
In fact， pleas are a frequently used strategy to get audiences to fill seats for Chinese art-house films， which have long struggled to find a niche market.
But not every art-house film in China is as lucky as Song of the Phoenix. Red Amnesia， a 2015 film by renowned sixth-generation director Wang Xiaoshuai， failed to solicit filmgoers’support after Wang wrote a public letter.
One explanation for the box office failure is that most Chinese moviegoers prefer star-studded blockbusters with special effects， said Wang Yao， an assistant fellow with the Department of Film Studies at Beijing Film Academy. Yet， art-house films are usually produced on a shoestring budget with a non-star cast and scant use of special effects. Consequently， they have less public appeal. Lack of marketing funds and promotional experience is another reason for the failure.“Given their tight budget， funds for promotion are insufficient. Consequently， most marketing companies are reluctant to take orders from art-house filmmakers，” said Li Jun， a veteran film critic and founder of Blowup Films， a marketing company specializing in promoting art-house films， in an interview with Oriental Outlook. For example， Song of the Phoenix’s marketing budget amounted to $448，500， far less than that of most commercial films.
In addition， many art-house films don’t feature current trends， making it more difficult for them to engage a large audience. Theaters thus end up squeezing out art-house films to make more screening time for profitable blockbusters.
However， there are some successful arthouse genre productions that have bucked this trend. Black Coal， Thin Ice， a 2014 Chinese arthouse thriller and winner of the Golden Bear， the top prize at the prestigious Berlin International Film Festival， raked in more than $16 million in earnings. Mountains May Depart， a 2015 film by Jia Zhangke， a leading figure among China’s sixthgeneration directors， took nearly$4.7 million in box office sales after running 17 promotional road shows in a row.
China’s film market is the world’s second largest， with box office takings of $6.8 billion in 2015， according to the State Administration of Press， Publication， Radio， Film and Television （SAPPRFT）. As long as a film is good enough and the producers apply proper marketing strategies， art-house films can also captivate target audiences， and make profits.
Help at hand
One possible solution for developing art-house movies lies in the segmentation of China’s film market. More cinemas dedicated to showing arthouse films should be established， say film experts. This will provide more access for those who love this genre.
“It takes a longer time for arthouse films to recoup the cost of filmmaking； therefore specialized cinemas are needed to enable such movies to be released in a low frequency over a long time，” Wang told Beijing Review.
Currently there are only three specialized cinemas releasing art-house films in Beijing， a city with more than 21 million residents.
Another solution being discussed by filmmakers is the development of more effective promotion strategies and marketing campaigns. Art-house films are badly in need of help from professional marketing teams to reach their audiences， said Li， who was previously head of Rearwindow Film， a Jiangsu-based movie marketing company. In mid-June， Li set up Blowup Films in Shanghai. One of the strategies that Blowup Films plans to use is organizing salons for target audiences to generate free word-ofmouth advertising.
Another piece of good news is that the Central Government has decided to fund arthouse filmmaking. According to regulations jointly issued by the Ministry of Finance and SAPPRFT last year， quality art-house films will be subsidized.