The Greatest Showman #787 - Template Apply

"Macbeth." Andy glanced at his watch, then revealed the answer without further suspense. "There are quite a few familiar names in the cast, though I can't recall them all. But I do remember the theater manager—Emma Fielding."

Renly raised an eyebrow and tilted his chin slightly in acknowledgment. "Ah, Almeida Theatre."

Andy's eyes widened in surprise. "Yes! You know her?"

Renly neither confirmed nor denied but instead redirected the conversation. "It's an interesting theater. Their rehearsals are always innovative and challenging, and they have a knack for surprising the audience. I remember, about five years ago, they staged 1984, which became a major hit in the West End. And American Psycho—that was an ambitious attempt as well."

In the theater world, where productions often run for years, some even decades—like Les Misérables at Queen's Theatre or The Phantom of the Opera at Her Majesty's Theatre—the role of a theater manager is crucial. Their artistic vision shapes not only a theater's reputation but also influences market reception. Among London's art circles and high society, discussing theater inevitably leads to discussing its managers.

Emma Fielding, manager of Almeida Theatre, was one such figure whose name carried weight.

"So, they're doing Macbeth now?" Renly mused. "That's an interesting choice."

As one of Shakespeare's four great tragedies, Macbeth was undoubtedly rich in artistic merit. However, with its heavy themes and extensive monologues, staging it—especially in the midst of the theater market's recent downturn—was a bold move.

A thought flashed through Renly's mind. "Is the director John Codd?"

John Codd, his former mentor, was deeply passionate about Shakespearean plays and had been advocating for their return to prominence on stage. His Hamlet had been particularly well received.

"Oh! Yes, John Codd!" Andy exclaimed, suddenly remembering. "You know him?" He paused and then chuckled at his own redundancy. "Wait—hold on. How much do you know about the West End? Why do I feel like I've been working in the dark, and you're already ten steps ahead?"

Renly laughed and shrugged innocently. "I'm a Londoner. That should've been your first clue. Spending weekends at the theater is practically tradition."

"No, I didn't know that—because you've never mentioned it." Andy feigned seriousness, though the amused glint in his eyes gave him away. "So, what else are you hiding? I'm meeting Emma tonight. What do I need to know so I don't sound like an idiot?"

"I graduated from the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art and spent over a year working in the West End. That's all." Renly smiled.

Andy squinted skeptically. "That's all? So if I casually mention Renly Hall in front of Emma, she won't suddenly reveal that you two once dated? Or that John Codd doesn't consider you an ex-student but an ex-boyfriend?"

Renly's eyes twinkled with amusement. "By the way, I forgot to mention—John was my teacher."

Andy narrowed his eyes but remained silent. Meanwhile, Nathan and Roy, who had been listening in, couldn't help but chuckle.

After a long pause, Andy finally sighed. "So, all my hard work these past months was unnecessary? You already had a connection and didn't tell me? I could've skipped coming to London and gone straight to Berlin instead? Is that it?"

Renly knew he needed to keep a straight face, but he couldn't suppress a smile. "John and I only briefly spoke in London last November. At the time, my schedule for Edge of Tomorrow was uncertain, so I couldn't commit to auditions, let alone rehearsals. We didn't discuss it in depth."

He continued, "Also, even if John is my mentor, he wouldn't give me special treatment. This is the West End. Hundreds of actors compete for roles, and everyone has to earn their place—same as on Broadway. I assumed they'd already cast Macbeth and moved into rehearsals, but it seems John is still focused on that production before shifting to his next one."

Unlike film and television, theater still upheld strict traditions. Regardless of fame or status, every actor had to prove themselves on stage. This was the unshakable foundation of the theater world. Whether it was Broadway, known for its commercial appeal, or the West End, revered for its artistic prestige, the same rule applied: performance came first.

Renly recalled how, on the morning of his The Pacific audition, George and Elizabeth had called, urging him to return to London for Hamlet. However, even with connections, his placement within the cast—first lineup, second, or third—would still depend on his performance.

This was the West End. Proud, rigorous, and unwavering in its standards.

"So, the production John is preparing..." Renly pivoted the conversation. "It's Les Misérables, isn't it?"

During a recent event, John had mentioned working on two productions: Les Misérables and Peter Pan. At the time, Renly assumed Peter Pan was more likely to return to the stage. However, it now seemed Les Misérables had taken priority.

In retrospect, it made sense. With limited funding, a well-known production like Les Misérables was more likely to attract sponsorship. The current version at Queen's Theatre was still running, so another adaptation would undoubtedly stir conversation in the West End—aligning with Almeida Theatre's style.

Andy's presence in London suddenly made even more sense. He had come prepared, playing both angles: one version of Les Misérables for the stage, another for film adaptation. Either way, Renly's involvement could be strategic.

It was a classic industry maneuver—when a Broadway play was adapted into a Hollywood film, casting directors often prioritized actors from the original production. The same principle applied here.

"Yes," Andy confirmed with a nod, exhaling deeply. After months of hard work, he finally felt he had some clarity. But then, noticing Renly's ever-present smirk, he sighed again. "Renly, you need to share this information with me. It's crucial to my job. Be honest—if you contacted John, would you have an audition opportunity? Maybe even a lead role?"

Renly was about to respond, but Andy held up a hand to stop him. "Also, just how well-known are you in the West End? If I mention your name, will people immediately recognize it? Next, I'm heading to Berlin to set things up for you—anything I need to be aware of? Any advantages I can leverage?"

Andy's frustration was evident, but so was his determination.

Renly's grin widened. "Are you saying that if I handle things here, you'll let me be?"

Andy chuckled but quickly regained his serious demeanor. "To clarify—not 'let you be,' but rather, efficiently manage the Berlin Film Festival and awards season. Europe is unfamiliar territory for me. The artists here aren't exactly fond of Hollywood, so I'll need your help."

Renly laughed, shaking his head. "Well then, let's get to work."