The Greatest Showman#960 - turn around
The ovation continues, swelling in intensity. Three minutes pass, yet the applause refuses to wane. Whistles, cheers, and exultant cries begin to mix into the cacophony, the energy rising instead of fading.
Tom Holland stands just beyond the curtain, staring at the scene with wide-eyed wonder. He turns his gaze upward to Renly, standing beside him, admiration radiating from his every expression. His awe is so palpable that Renly, mid-conversation with a staff member, notices the intensity of the stare and turns with a questioning look.
"Renly! You're the best!" Tom exclaims, his voice brimming with admiration. He pauses, searching for better words, but finding none, he simply repeats with fervor, "God, you're amazing. Bravo!"
Renly chuckles, shaking his head. Though only twenty-two himself, he regards sixteen-year-old Tom with a fond amusement, as though the younger actor were still a child. He reaches out, ruffling Tom's dark brown curls. "Focus on the performance. The real test has yet to begin."
Tom grins, sticking his tongue out playfully before nodding with exaggerated determination, balling his fists in resolve.
John Codd strides over, interrupting Renly's exchange with the staff. He claps Renly on the shoulder. "You did well. I knew you could do it."
Just 'well'?
Nearby, several crew members exchange amused looks, rolling their eyes. Tom is the first to protest, aghast at John's understatement. But John remains unfazed—he knows the performance isn't over yet. A seasoned stage director, he understands that on the stage, anything can happen, and a production is never perfect until the final bow.
He gestures toward the roaring audience. "They want you out there for a curtain call."
London's West End maintains a reputation for professional theatergoers, its audiences typically more refined than the tourist-heavy Broadway crowds. Applause is expected, but whistles and cheers? That's an anomaly. Yet tonight, as the first act of Les Misérables concludes, the atmosphere defies tradition. The audience isn't just applauding—they're celebrating.
Their reaction isn't just enthusiasm; it's reverence. They aren't ready to wait until the final bow. They demand an encore, a rare phenomenon in theatrical productions and the highest compliment to any performer.
Renly understands the weight of John's request: stepping onto the stage now would be an acknowledgment of this remarkable moment. But he shakes his head. "We can't disrupt the rhythm."
He could go, bask in the adulation—but the show is far from over. Two more acts remain. The entire cast has built a charged momentum, an unbroken energy that fuels their performances. If he steps out now, soaking in the audience's fervor, it risks unsettling the carefully maintained equilibrium of the production.
"Lights out. Curtain down. We prepare for Act Two," Renly instructs, his voice decisive.
John studies Renly for a moment before nodding. He understands. "Second act ready!" He moves away but hesitates, as if wanting to say more. In the end, he merely pats Renly's shoulder in silent approval before walking off.
Nearby, Ezra Miller, Domhnall Gleeson, and Andy Conahan remain clustered at the side stage, lingering even as others disperse.
Ezra is the first to approach, clapping a hand on Renly's shoulder. "Jesus Christ, you're a beast. A bloody beast!" His face is alight with excitement, the sheer force of Renly's performance still thrumming through him.
He shudders at the thought—what if Renly had unleashed his full intensity on them during their own scenes? What a disaster that would have been. But Renly hadn't. Instead, he had guided them, elevated them, helping them rise to the occasion. The success of the first act belonged to all of them, but Renly had been its absolute core.
Andy laughs, shaking his head in mock relief. "I swear, if you'd looked at me like that on stage, I would have forgotten every single line."
Stage acting, unlike film, offers no retakes. There are no camera angles to soften an actor's presence, no edits to smooth out an overpowering performance. Everything is raw. Too much intensity can throw off the balance, overshadowing co-stars and unsettling the audience's immersion.
That's why seasoned actors emphasize control—the ability to channel energy, not just unleash it.
Renly smirks. "Says the actor whose big scene is already over."
Andy lets out a bark of laughter, and the others join in. His major role has concluded; now he will take on background roles, filling the stage as an extra. He can afford to relax.
Nodding to his fellow cast members, Renly turns on his heel and strides toward the waiting room. There's no time to waste—he must change costume and prepare for the next act.
Like a shadow, Tom follows close behind, practically bouncing on his heels with excitement. He doesn't speak much, but his expression says everything. He is reveling in the experience.
Renly notices but says nothing. There isn't time. Besides, Tom's presence isn't disruptive—it's endearing.
Inside the waiting room, Joe Alwyn nearly collides with him. The younger actor's cheeks flush as he blinks rapidly, momentarily speechless. Then he lifts both hands in a double thumbs-up, blurting, "Renly, that was incredible!"
Renly grins. "Thanks!" He claps Joe on the shoulder before hearing Tom's excited chatter behind him.
"Joe! Did you hear that? The applause wouldn't stop! You should've seen it—Renly was unbelievable! That sprinting scene, did you see it—?"
With practiced efficiency, Renly begins changing. Time is of the essence. Every actor has a dedicated assistant, ensuring quick transitions—costume changes, makeup touch-ups, script reminders. Every second counts.
In the mirror, Renly catches sight of Daisy Ridley standing hesitantly nearby. Her brow is furrowed, anxiety woven into her expression.
Once dressed, he turns to face her directly. "So," he drawls, amusement laced in his voice. "Are you going to say something, or just keep staring at me like that?"
Daisy hesitates. Renly doesn't give her the luxury of time. "Tick tock. If you don't talk, I'm leaving."
She exhales sharply. "Renly, I'm nervous about my aria—"
The weight of the second act falls squarely on her shoulders. After Renly's stunning performance, the pressure is immense. And looming ahead? I Dreamed a Dream—one of the most iconic songs in musical theater history.
Renly grips her shoulders. "Listen to me. You got this role because you deserve it. You don't have to prove yourself. You just have to be yourself. The moment you step onto that stage, you are Fantine. Fantine is you."
He meets her gaze. "Understood?"
Daisy swallows, then nods with determination. "Understood."