The Greatest Showman #832 - Welcome Gesture

"No, that's just a bunch of nonsense! It's just talking to oneself!"

"You're not watching the movie properly. Those monologues are deeply tied to the plot..."

"No, you're just overinterpreting. The whole film is about getting lost in your own emotions and whining."

"Are you sure we're watching the same film? That man watched his mother commit suicide when he was seven, and his grandfather completely ignored him, immersing himself in his own world. He grew up alone, trying to save those innocent souls, but unable to do anything. Don't you get it? He wasn't educated for this. He was a mess himself, unsure how to help—too afraid his mistakes would make things worse."

"So, he blamed himself, and then killed that schoolgirl?"

"Jesus Christ! What are you talking about? Killing the schoolgirl? You're joking, right? He's trying to help the schoolgirl, but there's nothing he can do!"

"Then he killed her. In my view, he could've helped, but he chose not to."

"Are you saying that if a minor girl turns to her teacher, the teacher should open their heart?"

"Hey, hey, you're straying off-topic here! The movie is about education, about society. We're discussing whether it truly tackles those themes..."

"Who says that! Do you think he needs to explain why he killed the girl? Ridiculous! Totally ridiculous!"

"Or do you think society killed her? This is a Hollywood movie, not some French New Wave or Italian Neorealism!"

...

The argument was ongoing, red-faced and fierce, with no end in sight. Even standing on the street, they seemed ready to roll up their sleeves and fight it out.

In fact, Katarina Koffler had already rolled up her sleeves, her heavy winter coat wide open, and her rosy cheeks glistening with faint sweat. She wasn't arguing alone—around a dozen others had gathered, each joining the conversation, creating a lively and energetic discussion.

Marc Lacante stood by, helpless. To be more precise, he wanted to participate, but the speed at which everyone spoke was so fast, like a machine gun, that he couldn't get a word in edgewise. He was discouraged.

Kristin Shuttler and Chuck Smith, standing next to him, didn't care at all. Kristin would occasionally shout and join the debate, "Don't you think Renly's performance is just amazing?" or "Renly is so handsome it makes my legs go weak," and so on.

His eyes flicked from person to person, observing the lively crowd in front of him. Mark felt a mix of amusement and exasperation. He sighed deeply, trying to clear his thoughts.

The street in front of the cinema was bustling. Skyscrapers towered on either side, and large shopping malls lined the road. The shops reflected the city's leisure culture: bookstores, coffee shops, flower shops, and restaurants. Mark and his group had returned to the cinema at noon to watch Transcendence again.

Yesterday's premiere had been full of new information and shocks, and they'd missed many details: performance nuances, lines, and story subtleties. So, they had to watch it again.

After the screening, they eagerly began discussing the film. Their conversation quickly escalated, drawing in more and more people. By the time they found space in front of the cinema, the crowd was already growing louder.

Mark had no idea how it had gotten to this point, but what was even more surprising was that he noticed the subject of their discussion—the protagonist of the film—sitting just a few steps away.

Renly was enjoying a coffee in an open-air café. It was a film festival, so actors and directors were everywhere, and Renly, being the kind of actor who actively engages with his fans, wasn't hard to spot.

He wasn't hiding behind sunglasses or a hat, sitting confidently at a table, wearing a cobalt blue polka-dotted shirt and messy curly hair. His expression was relaxed, but despite the low-key vibe, he still drew attention.

Opposite Renly sat Jake Gyllenhaal. The two were chatting comfortably, mostly Jake speaking, while Renly listened attentively and chimed in with a word or two. Renly's demeanor was as warm and inviting as a spring breeze on a calm lake.

"Let's ask Renly directly!" Before Mark's brain caught up, he blurted out, "Guys, let's go ask him!" He then rushed toward Renly.

The others stared at him in disbelief before quickly following suit.

Luckily, the café was open-air, and Renly was seated in the garden area. As Mark and his group approached, the crowd quickly formed a circle around the wooden fence, careful not to disturb other customers. The scene still caught the attention of passersby.

"Renly, do you think this movie is just Henry's self-talk?"

"Of course, he doesn't feel that way—because it's his role. You should ask Tony Kaye about that!"

"But he's the actor, and he has the most insight!"

...

The conversation grew heated again, and Renly exchanged amused glances with Jake. Jake raised a hand, signaling for calm. "Let this gentleman speak first, or we'll never get an answer."

As the debate quieted, Renly smiled and said to Jake, "Experience makes all the difference."

Then, Renly turned his attention to the enthusiastic crowd. A mix of young faces, scruffy bearded men, and well-dressed women filled the circle, representing all walks of life. It was the power of cinema at work, and Renly's honor to be part of it.

"First of all, yes, I agree. The film does focus on Henry's self-talk. But as an audience member, it's actually rude and unreasonable to throw a world of unknowns at the viewer, only to watch him in turmoil, spinning in circles, unable to find an exit. Objectively, I don't like the film. I can even say I hate it. It's too self-centered."

Renly's candid response caused an uproar among the crowd. Opponents raised their chins, gloating at their victory. The supporters, however, immediately countered, with Katarina eagerly shouting, "But those monologues are connected to the plot!"

"Yes," Renly said firmly. "But I still don't like it."

The straightforward answer silenced the group. Renly continued, "At its core, this is Henry's monologue, his story. As an audience, why should I listen to a teacher's inner monologue? I think Tony's being unreasonable here. He's cramming everything in. He has the right to do that, and I have the right not to like it."

Opponents raised their hands in triumph, cheering.

Renly shrugged casually, his face serene. He then saw Jake's playful expression, and without saying a word, simply took a sip of his coffee. Renly wasn't joking; he meant it.

From the audience's perspective, he preferred films that left room for reflection. He believed the director's job was to tell a story, hiding their thoughts in the narrative and camera work, allowing the audience to interpret. The monologues, however, were too direct and crude.

Katarina was stunned, and Kristin, standing beside her, couldn't resist asking loudly, "So, you don't like this movie, your own movie?"

Renly chuckled. "I won't say I like it, but I won't say I hate it either."

The group pointed at Renly, causing Jack to laugh.

Renly didn't defend himself. After the group had settled, he added, "I'm an actor. The movie's in its promotional phase. What do you expect me to say?" His frankness left them speechless.

Renly continued, "Back to the film—does Henry's self-talk make sense? Of course, it does. These lines are the result of serious work by the writers, directors, and actors. The question is: do the viewers understand these monologues? Are they willing to engage with them?"

He smiled, always open to all opinions, whether critical, supportive, or opposing.

And so, the conversation continued, with some becoming dissatisfied, "In the end, you're still promoting your own movie. After all that, you still like it, just not saying it directly."