Bullshit literature time: Count is the sum that counts the counted things in order to calculate the sum that needs to be counted. Therefore, ladies and gentlemen, the keyword for today is… count.
Yes, completely useless philosophy. But it sounds deep, so we keep it. Moving on.
Once upon a time—long, long ago—OneRepublic became famous for counting stars.
Somehow, in a tragic-slapstick twist of destiny, that mystical star-counting willpower has been passed down through generations of humanity… and has now manifested in Jihoon, who is currently counting his box office numbers with the same intensity of the wolf from the wall street.
And if you ask him what any of this has to do with OneRepublic, he would probably look you dead in the eye and confidently tell you: Absolutely nothing. (wink)
But this is Jihoon we're talking about, so nonsense always becomes philosophy and philosophy always becomes nonsense.
Either way, back to the real story.
After finishing his meeting with Key and Peele, Jihoon headed back to his office.
Now, sitting on his desk was a thick report — still warm from the printer — detailing the opening-week performance of Inception.
An entire week's worth of box-office data had been compressed into numbers, charts, and the kind of graphs that financial analysts draw with great enthusiasm… while the rest of humanity simply nods and pretends they understand anything at all.
And thanks to the continuous wave of online debates — theories, clues, hidden meanings, conspiracy detectives suffering existential breakdowns — Jihoon's Inceptionhas managed to enter a full Mexican stand-off against none other than Stan Lee's Iron Man.
Yes, you read that right.
A philosophical fever-dream about shared dreams and collapsing realities is going head-to-head with a billionaire in a flying metal suit.
Hollywood, ladies and gentlemen.
The report starts with a comparison analysis of both films' opening weeks — an unavoidable ritual in the industry, like checking exam results even though the grade is already emotionally predetermined.
Iron Man, being the crowd-pleasing, superhero origin story that it is — accessible to everyone from teenagers to uncles who only go to the cinema twice a year — had an undeniably larger opening splash.
Labeled PG-13, action-packed, family-friendly, and coated with that classic Marvel charm, its domestic opening stood at 145 million, while its international side added 125 million, making a combined total of 270 million.
A strong, respectable, "shake the building foundations" sort of number.
From the analysis, this opening represents 41.5% of its predicted final sales.
In other words, the JH financial team projected Iron Man to end its full theatrical cycle at around 650 million worldwide.
Marvel had officially declared their production plus promotional budget at 180 million, so in layman terms, after theaters take their cut, they could walk away with a clean 210 million in net profit.
That's using the standard Hollywood formula — the same one every big studio uses, based on a 40% deduction for production, promotion, and theatrical cuts.
But JH Pictures… well, they don't use the standard formula.
Because Jihoon is a walking violation of industry norms.
In JH's system, the cost of production, promotion, theatrical cuts, plus employee shares are all pooled together into one massive deduction of 55% before net profit is calculated.
By industry standards, a company should only face 30–40% deductions, excluding employee benefit shares.
JH is the only company insane enough to factor in employee shares at this scale.
And no — this isn't because Jihoon is some holy samaritan who wakes up every morning wanting to share wealth like he's distributing blessings.
This was pure strategy.
As a complete newbie entering Hollywood, Jihoon needed something different — something loud enough, enticing enough, generous enough that top talent would willingly bet their careers on him.
And so the 55% formula was born.
Lucky for him, when he proposed this system, Fox didn't even blink.
Not because they were saints.
But because — let's be honest — in the beginning nobody at Fox or even people in the Hollywood believed Jihoon would succeed.
Nobody expected profit.
Nobody expected the HCU to explode the way it did.
So they casually agreed, thinking: "Eh, sure, give the kid his weird calculation method.
What's the worst that could happen?"
Then the HCU series began releasing.
One by one, each film hit harder than the last.
And soon, that "harmless agreement" became something Fox deeply regretted… but legally couldn't undo.
The contract was signed, the boat had sailed, and the regret was simply seasoning sprinkled on their quarterly reports.
After the initial success, Mara joined the venture as well.
That led to the shareholder arrangement everyone knows today: Jihoon with 51%, Fox with 30%, and Mara with 19%.
She had resisted at first — very dramatically, in fact.
But Jihoon convinced her with the simplest business principle ever:
"Money makes money. Don't be stingy."
"If you want people to work their ass off for you, give them a damn reason to."
And despite her reluctance, she eventually agreed. To this day, nobody has broken the agreement — yet. But who knows what will happen in the foreseeable future?
Jihoon's calculation system was cunning — almost too cunning.
It was essentially Jihoon convincing the other two shareholders to help train and pay for the team he handpicked, while he reaped the biggest slice of the rewards.
It was strategic, sly, and absolutely within the boundaries of business reality.
And the best part?
Even if someone offered Fox and Mara a chance to undo the burden and revert to a normal system… they wouldn't take it. Because Jihoon made them too much money.
In just the previous three films released over the past five months, Fox earned 117.4 million in net profit.
Mara, who joined late, earned 26 million from her first shared film, Buried.
And Jihoon — with his mighty 51% — earned 149.5 million.
All from just five months of releases.
All from only 33 million in production costs, excluding Inception.
Anyone with a functioning brain cell would know the obvious choice here.
But enough of calculating other people's profits.
Let's go back to the real star of today: Inception.
The film cost around 120 million to produce.
On opening week, it pulled in about 180 million worldwide. The financial team drafted out its projected full-cycle performance: roughly 590 million, slightly lower than Iron Man's 650 million.
But that number alone doesn't tell the full story.
If we dissect the finances deeper, the ROI — Return on Investment — for both films is almost identical. Marvel used 180 million to earn 210 million, giving them an ROI of roughly 117%.
Inceptionused 120 million to earn 234 million, giving JH Pictures an ROI of 121%.
Even a primary school kid could identify which percentage is higher. So despite Iron Man's larger box-office number, Inceptionactually produced a higher return on investment.
And in the world of business — not fandoms, not critics, not Hollywood glitter — the ability to earn more using less is the holy grail.
Jihoon has consistently proven he can do exactly that.
With only four films released between January and May of 2008, he has already carved a firm foothold in Hollywood — a place infamous for chewing newcomers alive.
Whether people admit it or not, his rising reputation is becoming a treasure in itself.
Investors talk.
Filmmakers talk.
Studios talk.
And when someone consistently wins in an environment shaped like a shark-infested poker table, people notice.
Because filmmaking, at its core, is still a gamble.
The risk of failure is almost always higher than success.
Betting on a luck-kissed madman like Jihoon is the closest thing to buying a winning lottery ticket.
And Hollywood loves a winner — especially one who keeps pulling off miracles with a smile, a shrug, and a spreadsheet that breaks every norm. Because who doesn't love Benjamin Franklin, our lovely $100-buck guy.