The Greatest Showman #819 - Premiere Eve

The hour hand had crossed midnight, but the cinema's halls were still alive with energy and excitement. The crowd wasn't large—just 30 to 40 people—but they gathered in small groups, sharing their opinions with animated expressions and spontaneous dances, creating an atmosphere of vibrant enthusiasm.

A small cluster of spectators had gathered around the Coen brothers. Four or five people stood between the two of them, forming two separate circles. The questions kept flowing, not only about the movie they had just watched but also about the brothers' older works. Laughter echoed through the air, creating an intimate, almost cozy vibe in the quiet midnight, like a casual conversation by candlelight.

Renly moved through the crowd quietly, unnoticed, and slipped out of the movie theater unnoticed.

It wasn't until the next movie began and the audience filtered into the screening room that Ethan noticed, his voice tinged with surprise, "I didn't see him! No sign of him at all. I thought he'd stick around—chat with people, work the room, spread his reputation. That could only help."

Joel shrugged, not overly concerned. "Maybe he's just playing it smart. Send out a picture of the ticket stub or post a shot with a couple of fans online. He doesn't have to engage with anyone directly. It's a way to manage his reputation without all the fuss. In this age of social media, you know the PR companies have it down."

Ethan paused, considering Joel's words. He had no counter-argument, and in the end, realized there was no need for one. He simply nodded. "Let's go. I saw that Nicolai Asser is showing at Alexanderplatz."

The brothers left the Sony Center at Potsdamer Platz for another major center in Berlin—Alexanderplatz.

Stepping outdoors, the cold Berlin air pierced through Renly's coat. The damp chill seemed to seep into his very bones, weighing him down. Winter in Berlin, as always, lived up to its reputation.

Had he more time, Renly would have loved to catch another film and fully immerse himself in the festival. The memory of watching seven films a day at the Telluride Film Festival still felt fresh. But, with the premiere of Transcendence tomorrow and an interview lined up in the morning, Renly knew he needed some rest. Given his recent sleep deprivation and his personal fondness for sleeping in, he decided tonight would be his cutoff.

Standing at the edge of the street outside the Sony Center, he waited for the light to turn. As he did, a gust of wind hit him, sending chills down his spine. Through the cold air, the sound of hurried footsteps and muffled voices grew louder. He didn't see them at first, but he heard their approach before they spoke:

"Sir, sir, may I take a moment of your time?"

The voice was filled with youthful energy, clearly from a group of college students. Renly turned to see four young people—two men and two women—standing before him, their faces still soft with youth. They didn't look like college students but more like high schoolers.

"We're from the Free University of Berlin," one of the girls began, "and we're conducting a survey at the film festival. We want to gather opinions from foreign audiences about the Berlin Film Festival—what works, what doesn't, and then compile our findings for a report by semester's end. Would you mind helping us? It'll take just five minutes—twenty questions, we promise."

The four of them spoke in tandem, their words rushing out one after another. Renly chuckled, entertained by their enthusiasm.

"Five minutes, twenty questions?" Renly asked. "You'd better get started now, or we'll run out of time."

For a moment, the group stood frozen, unsure of how to respond. Then, one of the taller girls, her name apparently Catarina, elbowed her friend, and the group sprang into action.

"Christine, go ahead," someone urged.

Christine smiled, nodding. "Okay! Sir, may I ask what drew you to the Berlin Film Festival this year?"

Renly's smile deepened. "Transcendence," he said simply.

One of the boys—his hair a short, striking ginger-red—lit up. "Hey, I'm looking forward to that one too! It premieres tomorrow, right? Will you be attending?" He caught himself, then added with a more serious tone, "Of course, that's not part of the survey."

Renly chuckled. "It seems like I should."

"Alright, enough with the small talk," another boy chimed in, his voice stern. "Let's get back to the questions!"

The interview was swift, but the five-minute window barely covered the rapid-fire questions. By the end of the session, almost twenty minutes had passed. The students thanked Renly, and he continued on his way to the Grand Hyatt Hotel.

As the group watched him leave, Christine marveled, "He's such a nice guy. He was so friendly and helpful with our survey. I wish all our interviewees were like that."

"I think he's a true film fan," Catarina added. "He probably just came out of the Sony Center because he loves films. That's why he took the time for us."

Mark, however, was still pondering. "Wait… didn't he look familiar? I swear I've seen him before. Maybe he's an actor...or a director?"

"Oh, please," Chuck replied dryly. "He's just a guy from the festival."

But Mark was insistent. "He looks like an actor, though."

Christine shook her head. "No way."

"Definitely not," Chuck added firmly.

Catarina just shrugged, her expression saying it all: maybe, maybe not.

Mark, defeated, sighed heavily. "I guess we'll never know."

Eighteen hours later, on the red carpet at the Berlin Film Festival's main venue.

Mark's eyes went wide with disbelief as a figure emerged from a black car. He could barely contain his excitement, shaking Chuck's shoulders. "I told you! I knew it! Look!"

The rest of the group stood frozen, awestruck. Chuck's mouth hung open in shock. Christine, overcome with emotion, started crying. She wasn't sure why, but the tears just kept coming.

The crowd on either side of the red carpet erupted, their cheers and screams blending into a wave of energy. The cold winter night suddenly felt warm, electrified by the frenzy.

The reason for all this? The man walking down the carpet—a dark blue shirt, a light gray suit, a handwoven blue tie—Renly Hall had arrived.

The actor, leading in the highly anticipated Transcendence, had made his first appearance at a major European film festival. His presence set Berlin ablaze with excitement, as media and fans alike clamored for a glimpse.

Mark, unable to contain himself any longer, shouted above the noise, "Renly! Over here!"