The Greatest Showman #1004 - Bold and Generous

Alfonso Cuarón ran his hand through his hair in an exaggerated motion, but his curls only grew more disheveled. With an apologetic smile, he scratched his head and stammered, "Sorry, I forgot... uh, you haven't agreed to join yet. My bad."

Renly couldn't help but smile at directors like him.

Directors like Drake Doremus, Tony Kaye, and Alfonso Cuarón—whether they had massive successes or not—reminded Renly of something vital: their commitment to their unique vision of film, their personal ways of building entire worlds. They weren't just making movies; they were creating dreams.

Actors bring life to characters; directors paint the world those characters inhabit. In a way, they both reminded Renly of George Slender.

"It's an honor, I think," Renly said, shrugging slightly with a smile.

Renly wasn't one to be indecisive. When he liked something, he embraced it without hesitation. If he didn't, he moved on. So, when his mind had already made up about the project, and the excitement to take it on had already kicked in, he nodded and agreed.

It was simple, almost innocent—like his decision to take on Crazy in Love early on. Nothing had changed. Not after winning the Berlin Best Actor or the Oscar.

After a moment, Renly jumped into the discussion with full focus, "In my opinion, survival of the fittest is a product of circumstance. Sometimes, women have a higher chance of survival than men, and other times the opposite."

His knife and fork never stopped, slicing through the pancakes in front of him. Yet his mind was already fully engaged, actively constructing his interpretation of Ryan Stone in his head.

Ryan was, in many ways, a weaker character. The movie, in its grand scope, was about the birth of humanity through a single individual. Ryan's personal story seemed small in the vastness of space. But did that mean it would require expressive acting?

However, the isolation of space created a very unique environment—a confined space, where Ryan was forced to go from panic and fear to loneliness, vulnerability, and despair. Then, from that despair, she would rediscover her strength, pushing forward, fighting for survival. This journey was grounded in Ryan's personal experience, yet it also symbolized a larger context: the birth of humanity, the origin of Earth itself.

In that sense, Ryan was a singular individual. From the tiniest speck of dust to the entire universe, she was irreplaceable—just as method acting is irreplaceable in capturing such a unique transformation.

Renly was reminded of Transcendence—the fusion of method and expressive acting there had sparked something in him. Perhaps Gravity could push that fusion further.

"The question now is—who has a better chance of surviving in space? Forget about gender. Look at the two characters—who is more likely to make it? That's the answer we need."

As his ideas continued to unfold, Renly began to shape a clearer picture of Gravity's world. The details still needed work, but the central idea was solid.

"It's like... twins," Renly continued, his mind racing. "In an extreme situation, a doctor might have to choose which twin to save—not based on who came first or whether they're a boy or girl, but who has the best chance. The script should create that kind of environment, where survival of the fittest is the only thing that matters."

When Cuarón and Jonas wrote the script for Gravity, they used minimalism, reducing dialogue and inner monologue in favor of a plot-driven narrative. The original script garnered recognition, including nominations from the British Academy of Film and Television Arts, but missed out on a Writers Guild of America nomination and an Oscar nod.

The goal now was the same—keeping the dialogue minimal and using the plot to propel the story.

Renly elaborated, "It's all about creating the environment. The script's focus should be on survival, on who has the better shot in this harsh, unforgiving world. The rest—the character dynamics—are just window dressing."

After he finished outlining his thoughts, Renly noticed that Cuarón had been silent, and he gave him a playful smile. "Of course, this is just my opinion. I mean, for screenwriters, ideas are great, but execution? That's the real challenge. If I had to write it, I think I'd probably give up."

Alfonso snapped out of his daze, blinking in confusion. "Wait... did you just say you're willing to join Gravity? Or did I mishear you?"

Renly chuckled and placed his utensils down. "Mr. Cuarón, you heard correctly. I'm on board. I want to take on this challenge, but only if I can handle it on stage and in front of the camera."

"No 'ifs,' no 'ifs'!" Alfonso interjected, eager. He reached across the table and grabbed Renly's hand, shaking it enthusiastically. "Renly Hall, I'm confirming it now. You're the lead in Gravity. No one else even comes close. We can sort out the schedule later."

Renly shook Alfonso's hand, matching his excitement. "It's a pleasure to work with you."

And just like that, Renly's next project was confirmed—Gravity.

Since wrapping Edge of Tomorrow, Renly had stayed away from film offers, but after some twists and turns, Gravity felt like the right fit. He was excited to see what kind of magic Cuarón would bring to the table.

Alfonso, practically giddy, seemed unsure how to express his joy. "Wait... do you have any special requirements? Like, pay? On-set treatment? Co-stars? Anything like that?"

Renly picked up his fork and raised an eyebrow. "I don't know. I have so many privileges now. Is that a good thing?"

Alfonso scratched his head, a bit shy. "I'm not sure, but since I'm one of the producers, you have all the priority. If you want it, it's yours." He made a dramatic gesture, offering Renly everything without hesitation.

Such a producer could be a disaster for the production company, handing over everything. But for the actor? It was a dream.

The making of Edge of Tomorrow had been relatively easy, with many of Renly's suggestions and ideas being welcomed. Warner Bros. had even approved extra budget without hesitation, making the whole process a breeze.

But none of those decisions were officially in writing. The producers—Frank Marshall and Tim Lewis—could still veto any of Renly's demands and stick to their own vision.

Just like in the Fast and Furious franchise, where Paul Walker's influence was often overridden by Vin Diesel. The producers listened to Paul, but Diesel's opinion always carried more weight.

So, Renly wondered: had his position changed on Gravity?

With Alfonso at the helm, Renly was being handed complete freedom. No reservations, no conditions. "You want it? It's yours." The kind of treatment that could be a nightmare for a studio.

Renly couldn't help but wonder how Warner Bros. would react to Alfonso's bold offer. But for now, he had other things on his mind.

"Thank you," Renly said with a polite smile. "But I think we should leave the details to the professionals, don't you think?"

Renly always left the logistics to his manager, Andy. He didn't worry about the pay or perks. For him, it was about the role, the script, the direction—those were what mattered most.

As for money, the $10 million he earned from Edge of Tomorrow plus 5% of the box office was more than enough. He was already thinking of buying some extreme sports gear, but the rest of his finances were... well, numbers on a bank account.

Renly figured it might be time to talk to Andre and Matthew about managing his assets, though. Letting it sit in a bank account forever didn't seem quite right.

"Of course!" Alfonso agreed enthusiastically, still grinning. "What about the salary—how does $20 million sound? And the box office dividend? No problem. Success or failure, you deserve it."

$20 million? And box office dividends?

Renly's mind spun.