I'm Not A Master, I'm A Director (Type-Moon Fanfiction) - Chapter 30: Refusal

If the skyrocketing box office on Friday had finally shown Bandai the potential of FSN, the box office numbers that soared on Saturday, despite the limited number of theaters, further confirmed that their decision was correct.

Even though FSN was still only screening in 25 theaters due to scheduling constraints, the box office on this day reached an astonishing 19.46 million yen, with a per-theater box office of nearly 800,000 yen!

In terms of per-theater earnings, these were numbers that only a blockbuster movie could achieve.

After hastily making his way from Fuyuki City to Tokyo, Shinji Matou received the good news about the expanded screenings before heading to Bandai. However, his joy was short-lived as he learned about the rejection from Toho and Shochiku theaters. This news even caused him to lose his temper.

Shinji had a valid reason to be angry and anxious.

To explicitly reject a movie for distribution, Toho theaters were the larger of the two with more than 50 theaters under their banner. While this number might seem small compared to the later mega-theater chains, it was the second-largest in Japan, which had only around 400 theaters. Furthermore, Toho theaters were strategically located in bustling urban areas with high foot traffic.

So, as soon as he entered the meeting room at Bandai, Shinji exclaimed loudly.

“Why the hell is Toho not distributing my movie?! Is the price sent to the distribution company not meeting their standard?”

“No, it has nothing to do with the distribution company,” Nao refuted Shinji’s guess with a frown, indicating that she was not in a good mood either.

“According to the information I’ve received, it’s related to the film critics?”

“Huh?”

Shinji was almost taken aback by this absurd answer and looked at Udagawa with disbelief.

Nao Udagawa explained, “It seems that a film critic named Ippei Kawachi mobilized a group of film critics to pressure Toho and Shochiku to reject your movie.”

“That meddling busybody.”

Thinking back to the critic who had given him such a disapproving look, Shinji grumbled in annoyance.

Although Shinji knew that film critics had more influence than he expected, he never imagined that they could persuade theaters to refuse to screen his movie.

“Do the theaters just follow the film critics’ orders?” Shinji asked incredulously.

To Shinji’s question, Nao also seemed somewhat helpless. “It’s because Ippei has a close relationship with Toho and Shochiku. In the words of their employees, they can’t give up the whole forest for a single tree.”

Clearly, Toho and Shochiku believed that the value brought by Ippei and the group of film critics he led outweighed Shinji’s movie. In their eyes, one director’s film, even if successful, was less valuable than maintaining a good relationship with influential film critics.

“Ugh.”

Shinji sighed in frustration and asked, “So, why did this critic, Appei Kawachi, want to stop my movie? It can’t be for artistic reasons, trying to prevent my non-artistic film from spreading, can it?”

“It’s Ippei,” Nao corrected with a shrug. “I think it’s more about fear. Your movie was singled out for criticism by him. If it were to achieve high box office numbers, the value of his film critics’ opinions would plummet.”

Film critics’ most significant power lay in their ability to influence audiences with their opinions. They believed that their critiques had the power to determine whether a movie succeeded or failed. If a movie they criticized did well at the box office, it would challenge their influence and authority.

It was like the quote from Iron Man 2: “If you could make God bleed, people would cease to believe in Him.”

In fact, in a world without the unique circumstances of the Type-Moon parallel universe, where art films dominated the market, the influence of film critics would have diminished long ago.

“What reason did Toho theaters give then?” Shinji inquired, as refusing to screen a movie due to film critics was not a reasonable justification.

When Shinji asked this question, Nao’s expression became somewhat strange, as if she found the reason amusing.

“It’s because the theatrical version of ‘Crayon Shin-chan’ is scheduled to be released next week, and Toho theaters wanted to free up screens for their own movie.”

“Can’t they give us a more believable excuse?”

Shinji let out a breath of frustration. Although ‘Crayon Shin-chan’ was also a nationally beloved animation, its box office for the annual theatrical version had been stable at around 1 billion to 1.5 billion yen. As far as Shinji’s memory was concerned, this stability would continue until the year 2020. ‘Crayon Shin-chan’ was an annual box office powerhouse, and he couldn’t believe that Toho wouldn’t allocate enough screens for it in advance.

“If there were more theaters…,” Shinji muttered.

The root cause of this issue was Japan’s limited number of theaters. If there were more theaters, Toho wouldn’t be able to make such excuses.

Thinking about it, Shinji suddenly felt the urge to start his own theater chain. However, it was just a passing thought. His goal was the global film market, not focusing on a small market like Japan.

“Other theater chains should be fine, right?” Shinji held his chin in his hands, confirming with Nao.

“No problem. Although we have fewer theaters than expected, we managed to secure 210 theaters and 812 screens,” Nao confirmed.

“That’s enough. This should be enough to make FSN popular across Japan,” Shinji grinned with a sly smile.

At this moment, he felt a surge of excitement. He wanted to prove himself and show those old folks who looked down on him.

With a “warm” smile, Shinji Matou began to outline his movie promotion plan to Nao.

As a new week began, Bandai changed their attitude towards FSN. They expanded the number of theaters showing the film to 210 and allocated an additional 20 million yen for marketing. While it might not seem like a huge sum, given the state of the entertainment industry in Japan at the time, it was a significant investment.

In this era with limited internet access, handling over 100 million yen in marketing would have been a challenge for Shinji.

FSN started appearing on the front pages of leading newspapers and on prime-time television, attracting the attention of countless viewers with its beautifully crafted character designs and exciting action sequences.

As Japan’s top anime distribution company, Bandai fully utilized its potential. In line with Shinji’s request, they precisely targeted the age group of 12 to 25, reaching out to young audiences.

Meanwhile, the film crew that remained in Fuyuki City cooperated with Bandai’ promotional plans. Although they couldn’t leave the city for promotion, Shirou and others followed the requirements, participating in interviews, photo shoots, and even television programs.

The most important part of the promotion was, of course, the female lead, Arturia. Bandai even sent someone to Fuyuki City to film several FSN-related commercials, including one for the Excalibur toy.

With such a large-scale and intensive marketing campaign, combined with the film’s consistently high word-of-mouth, FSN’s box office numbers finally showed significant growth.

In just the first four working days of the new week, the box office reached 248.94 million yen, and over the following three weekend days, it soared to 383.74 million yen.

In the end, FSN ranked at the top of Japan’s box office rankings with a total box office of 630 million yen.

This was FSN’s first box office champion title, and it was also the first time in Shinji Matou’s life that he achieved such a title.

As a result, the entertainment section of “Monthly News” featured FSN’s poster as its headline on Monday, along with the label “The Miracle Dark Horse.”

“It’s not about being a dark horse! My brother winning the box office championship is just natural!” Sakura complained while tapping the newspaper on the Matou family’s dining table.

“But Master is still a newcomer, isn’t he?” Arturia, who was enjoying a plate of pastries, responded vaguely, “For a newcomer to achieve such results, isn’t it normal to call it a dark horse?”

“Finish your food before you speak,” Sakura said helplessly, then looked at her brother. “Brother, what do you think?”

Shinji, who was flipping through other newspapers, responded without lifting his head. “I don’t care whether it’s called a dark horse or not. Just as long as they speak well of me. Quickly flip through the other newspapers.”

Due to the highly developed entertainment industry, Japan had a large number of newspapers covering entertainment news, which made it a bit challenging for Shinji to find specific articles.

As a result, Shinji had to mobilize his family members to search, even enlisting the help of the heroic spirits in the house.

Except for Arturia, who couldn’t read newspapers, and Heracles, who couldn’t flip through them due to being too big, the other heroic spirits were all mobilized by Shinji.

In the end, it was Yan Qing who found the information Shinji was looking for from the vast sea of newspapers.

“Master, is this the negative review you were looking for?”

Little Lancer handed a newspaper to Shinji.

The headline on the column read: “The Existence of Such a Movie is a Tragedy for Japanese Cinema!!”

“Hmph, they couldn’t hold back anymore, huh?”

Seeing this somewhat eerie headline, Shinji couldn’t help but smirk.

Indeed, faced with FSN’s steadily rising box office, those film critics couldn’t sit idly by.

“Well then, let’s make the storm even more intense!”

Shinji wore a standard “according to plan.jpg” expression on his face.

“Notify Miss Udagawa, let’s start the verbal battle.”