The Greatest Showman #837 – Extreme Means

Roy had checked out of the hotel, only to check in again less than an hour later. During the Berlin Film Festival, hotel rooms were always in high demand, making it impossible to stay in the same room. Fortunately, the Grand Hyatt Hotel still had availability, so Roy wasn't rushed to find another place.

Suitcases were neatly arranged on the floor in the hallway. Roy accidentally kicked one with his toes, and the pain was so sharp it almost made him cry. He had to grit his teeth and stand still for a moment to steady himself. Then, Andy's familiar voice broke the silence, "Roy? Are you okay?"

Roy let out a long sigh, "I'm fine." He kicked his left leg, then limped over to the sofa and sat down. "Personally, I think this exchange will be good for Renly, no matter what. Whether in the film or theatre world, if he can take the opportunity to invite young filmmakers to London or New York to watch his plays—assuming he lands the role—then it'll be a huge boost to his reputation. It's definitely a positive move."

Over the past two weeks, there had been no significant updates about the stage and film versions of Les Miserables. Renly had auditioned twice—once for the stage version, for the role of Jean Valjean, and once for the movie, for Enjolras and Marius. Now, they were all waiting for the follow-up news.

An actor's fame and legacy are built on their work, but also by the recognition from industry insiders and peers. Renly's four films had earned him a degree of industry recognition, but his body of work was still small, and its influence weak. It was hard to make a significant impact without more projects. Transcendence at the Berlin Film Festival had been one opportunity, Dieter's invitation another. In Roy's eyes, if Renly could participate in the Les Miserables stage production, that would be the third golden chance.

Roy had made the best choice for Renly in a matter of seconds. Just 120 seconds after receiving Dieter's call, Roy had decided to stay in Berlin.

"Besides," Roy added with a knowing look, "my gut tells me Renly might have a shot here in Berlin this year." He shrugged. "Even if not, Renly is still in a pretty good position here right now."

In just four days, Renly had met Jake Gyllenhaal, Dieter Koslick, François Ozon, and had encountered the loyal audience of the Berlin Film Festival. All these seemingly insignificant interactions and moments were building blocks of his reputation and future prospects.

Despite the lingering pain in his toes, Roy almost choked on his own saliva as he caught his breath. "So, what do you think? I just called to cancel the ticket. If you have any issues, we can still discuss it."

Roy wasn't buying a new ticket—he was negotiating. His relationship with Andy was more like a game than a partnership.

As Renly's manager, Roy had unilaterally decided to stay in Berlin, while Andy, as Renly's agent, had made plans for Los Angeles. Now their decisions were at odds, but ultimately, it would be Renly's call. Both Roy and Andy worked for Renly; they just had different priorities.

"...Where's Renly?" Andy asked after a moment of reflection, not hurrying to give his opinion but simply inquiring about Renly's whereabouts.

"Cinema," Roy replied with a slight smile, not surprised by Renly's choice.

Renly had always been passionate about film, and the Berlin Film Festival had a much stronger pull than the scattered PR events for the Academy in Los Angeles. After Roy briefly explained the situation in the car, Renly had been content to return to the Grand Hyatt, with the option to change his mind at any time.

Andy chuckled softly. "Guess Renly will always be Renly." Then, after a brief pause, he added, "Alright, Renly will stay in Berlin and come back after the festival ends."

Andy agreed, and surprisingly, there was no further discussion. Roy sensed something unusual.

"Andy, what's going on?" Roy asked, sensing there was more to the story.

"The college PR thing," Andy replied. He wasn't hiding it, even though it wasn't necessary to tell Roy. But Renly needed to know, especially when he returned to North America and was blindsided by the situation. "The Weinstein brothers are acting like mad dogs, doing whatever it takes to get an Oscar nomination. Some of their tactics are... eye-opening."

Andy didn't speak with anger, but his words carried a biting mockery, hinting at the underhanded methods used by the Weinsteins. Each year, the Oscar campaigns from major studios could be quite transparent—hosting small movie screenings, charity events, media promotions, etc. But the Weinsteins were different. They were known for pushing the boundaries with extreme tactics.

For example, in 1996, to promote Switchblade, a little-known film, they personally delivered movie discs to out-of-town, veteran judges, inviting them to watch the film. The Weinstein brothers were relentless, calling and emailing the judges repeatedly, highlighting Billy Bob Thornton's performance and the film's importance. Their aggressive methods led to two Oscar nominations for the film.

In an extreme case the previous year, the brothers resorted to attacking The Social Network, spreading rumors and lies about the film, its director, and its cast. The purpose? To tarnish its chances and boost the reputation of The King's Speech. The Weinsteins often made waves by dragging others down to propel their own work forward.

This year, they were going after The Artist.

"They're going all in for The Artist this year," Andy continued, his voice steady but sharp. "They're attacking everyone: the film, the director, the lead actor, the supporting actress. And now, rumors about Martin Scorsese and Woody Allen are everywhere."

In North America, rumors were circulating that Woody Allen's creative powers were waning, and there was a mocking tone about Martin Scorsese, claiming his career hadn't been as strong as his Oscar wins suggested. The intent was clear—to undermine their reputation and reduce their chances in the awards race. These legends had been through many controversies, so the rumors didn't bother them much. However, they affected the competitiveness of Hugo and Midnight in Paris.

"As for Best Actor, they're targeting Renly," Andy said with a dismissive tone. "There are rumors going around that he's too young to be a serious contender. People are suggesting that someone is behind his rise, even implicating Chris Spalin from Buried Alive."

"Ridiculous," Roy muttered, his frown deepening.

Andy didn't respond immediately. "But the real issue," he continued, "is that these rumors exploded into the email incident, which caused a PR crisis for the whole crew. And yet, Renly became the youngest actor ever nominated for an Oscar."

Andy chuckled, as if amused by the absurdity. "What's brilliant is that no one ever names names. But the insinuation is clear: Renly's success must have been orchestrated."

Roy finally pieced it together. The rumors didn't care about the truth; they were designed to create doubt, to stir the waters. By not mentioning specific names—like Tom Hanks or Steven Spielberg—the rumors allowed speculation to fester without any concrete evidence, making it harder for Renly or anyone else to defend themselves.

It was a clever, insidious move by the Weinsteins. But was that all?