Chapter 34: A Stunning Income

Nikkatsu reported the initial audience numbers for Guilty of Romance, which was the viewership for the first week—one hundred and ten thousand.

According to the habits of the Japanese film industry, although the “initial audience numbers” were also customarily called the first-week viewership, in reality, it only counted the data for the first Saturday and Sunday.

One hundred and ten thousand.
This result could only be said to be average for a normal commercial film, but for an art film, it was nothing short of stunning—it was very common for art films to have initial viewership numbers of only ten or twenty thousand.

According to the general situation in the Japanese industry, the initial box office of an art film accounted for 5%-8% of the total box office, while the initial box office of a domestic commercial film accounted for 10%-15% of the total box office.

There were no similar statistics for Japanese domestic AVs like Guilty of Romance.

Nikkatsu gave an estimated value based on their past data for “pink films”—10%.
In this way, calculated at an average ticket price of one thousand five hundred yen per ticket, the predicted total box office for Guilty of Romance reached 1.65 billion yen.

After the cinema chain and the distributor each took their share, and after deducting about thirteen percent in various taxes, Bubble Witch could still receive five hundred million yen.

This box office result certainly couldn’t be compared to Studio Ghibli’s “Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind,” which was released last year, but considering that the cost of this movie was less than ten million yen, the return on investment was quite amazing.

The first thing Seiko did after getting the estimated box office was to take the film distribution contract to the bank for a loan.

What was the most difficult thing for Japanese people to do when getting a loan from a bank in this era?

It was “going to the bank.”

At this time, as long as a customer could provide proof of income—even just a payslip from a part-time job at a convenience store—most Japanese banks would lend them a huge amount of cash.

Some financial institutions even introduced “unmanned loan machines,” just like the bank’s unmanned ATMs.
Customers only needed to provide identification to get a loan from the machine by themselves.

Such lenient credit conditions also provided the most important fuel for the crazy expansion of the bubble economy shortly after.

Seiko went to a local branch of Fuji Bank.
With the distribution contract and the initial audience numbers, Fuji Bank easily lent Bubble Witch three hundred million yen.

The first thing Seiko did after getting the money was not to start Bubble Witch’s next project, but to transfer one hundred million yen to the Oshin-ya audio-visual rental store.

Oshin-ya had signed a VHS video recorder supply agreement with a distributor for Sharp.
In the home video recorder field, Sharp had taken the low-cost route, and the low-end models of their brand were sold for even less than one hundred and fifty thousand yen.

However, “rent a video cassette, get a free video recorder” was actually a disguised installment sale of video recorders.
Installment sales required the merchant to bear most of the financial pressure.
This one hundred million yen was the advance payment lent to Oshin-ya.

As for the remaining two hundred million yen, Seiko felt that with Bubble Witch’s money-saving ability, it should be enough to shoot a Usagi Drop.

“Two hundred million yen is of course enough.”

Ōmori Ryō had never shot such a large-investment “masterpiece” in all his years of debut.
He was excited when he heard two hundred million yen, but after the excitement, he resisted the impulse to agree on the spot and said.

“However, I’ve been following the Usagi Drop manga recently.
FEEL YOUNG has given Usagi Drop the cover for two consecutive issues.
I think the reader’s evaluation of Usagi Drop should be quite good, and the magazine should also be very optimistic about Usagi Drop…”

Seiko looked at Miyazaki next to her.
Because they were discussing the film adaptation of Usagi Drop, Seiko had also called this “manga author” over.

Miyazaki raised her chin slightly and said with a reserved pride, “That’s right.
The magazine has forwarded many reader letters to me, all saying that my art is quite good.”

“So what do you mean?” Seiko asked Ōmori Ryō again.

“What I mean is,” Ōmori Ryō explained, “since the evaluation is very good, it’s better to wait for the popularity of the manga to ferment for a while.
If we adapt it into a movie now, Bubble Witch will definitely need to invest a lot of funds and resources in promotion, otherwise, the movie’s box office will be difficult to guarantee.
FEEL YOUNG will definitely invest more resources to promote the Usagi Drop manga.
We might as well push back the start time of the movie…”

“Oh.”

Seiko understood.
Ōmori Ryō meant that Bubble Witch didn’t have the money or resources for promotion itself, so it was better to ride on the promotional resources of FEEL YOUNG magazine.
After FEEL YOUNG had hyped up the manga, the movie could follow up and ride the wave of popularity.

“But…” Miyazaki was a little hesitant.
She had been looking forward to the Usagi Drop movie.

“Doing this will save us at least one hundred million,” Ōmori Ryō hadn’t finished his sentence.

“I think that’s a great idea!” Miyazaki said decisively.

Seiko was speechless.
She felt that calling Miyazaki over to discuss things was a bit redundant.

“Then what about Bubble Witch’s film crew?
The personnel and equipment have been idle for more than half a month,” Seiko asked again.

“We can shoot a TV series first.”

Ōmori Ryō pointed to the script on the table.

This script was something Seiko had cobbled together in the past month.
It was the small-screen debut of the “child prodigy actress” Ashida Mana from her previous life, “Mother” (also translated as “Haha”).

The biggest feature of this eleven-episode TV series was two words: “melo-drama.”
It was a heart-wrenching drama aimed directly at the tear ducts of the female audience.

Seiko gave the script to Ōmori Ryō to read.
After reading it, Ōmori Ryō was full of praise.

Of course, because Ōmori Ryō was a flatterer, Seiko didn’t know how much of this “full of praise” was credible.
She could only interpret it as “this script is usable.”

Hearing that Ōmori Ryō wanted to shoot this TV series first, Seiko’s expression was a little strange.
“This TV series probably can’t be made with two hundred million yen, right?”

“Of course not,” Ōmori Ryō explained.
“Even if we save as much as possible, this kind of TV series would probably cost around thirty million yen per episode.
And there are also expenses for the theme song, insert songs, and so on.
To produce the whole thing, at the most frugal, would probably require three hundred million yen.
But we can shoot three or four episodes first, and then sell them to a TV station.
If the ratings are good, the TV station will definitely support us in finishing it.”

“So that’s how it is…”

Seiko suddenly understood.
She had almost forgotten that many Japanese TV dramas were filmed and broadcast at the same time.
The production team would adjust the plot based on audience feedback, and TV dramas with poor ratings would even be directly canceled.

“Alright, since there’s room to operate, let’s try shooting three or four episodes first,” Seiko nodded in agreement.

Ōmori Ryō received the order and was about to pound his chest and make a guarantee.

Suddenly, Saori walked into the room.

“I saw this person at the door just now, so I brought him in with me,” Saori pointed behind her and smiled.

Only then did Seiko see that Nishida Jun was following behind Saori.

“Is there something you need?”
Seiko was wondering why only one of the Inoshikachō trio had appeared.

Nishida Jun suddenly fell to his knees with a thud, performing a dogeza.

Seiko and the others were startled by Nishida Jun’s grand gesture.
While they were still confused, they saw Nishida Jun hold up a notebook with both hands.

“Boss, I want to make a movie too!” Nishida Jun shouted.

“It’s just making a movie.
Anyone who didn’t know might have thought you wanted to play basketball…”

Seiko complained speechlessly.