On June 13, during a live broadcast of the "Today Show," an unprecedented hour was dedicated to the "Edge of Tomorrow" crew, a special never seen before. Typically, guests appear for just 15 to 30 minutes, but today, the entire hour was filled with interviews. Despite the risk of complaints or protests, NBC pulled off an unexpected success. The audience had no complaints—in fact, they expressed their thoughts loud and clear: time was too short!
The harmony and chemistry within the "Edge of Tomorrow" crew left a lasting impression. Donald, Lamy, Jennifer, Alexander, and others were revealed to be hidden jokers, bringing laughter throughout the conversation. Renly and Paul, working together seamlessly, were particularly surprising, showcasing an unspoken bond.
In addition to Renly being called "The Devil of Mischief," the crew discussed the movie's creative process, the formation of Team J's six characters, and how the script's lines were integrated with their performances. It was revealed that each character had its own background storyboard, offering insight that was both illuminating and surprising.
The live interview was filled with laughter, lightheartedness, and fun, which not only captivated the audience in Rockefeller Plaza but even office workers in nearby buildings who stood by floor-to-ceiling windows to watch.
One hour felt like nothing at all, and before anyone could catch their breath, the live broadcast ended, but not without a roar of "Encore!" echoing across the plaza. The audience—thousands strong—could not let go of the joy the show had brought. They demanded more, chanting in unison:
"Encore! Encore! Encore!"
Even those watching from their offices felt the pull of the excitement. One person raised his hand and joined the chant, only to realize he was in a corporate office, not the plaza. He paused, looking around at his colleagues who were too focused on their work to respond. It was silent and lifeless, a stark contrast to the energy he had just witnessed.
However, the pull of the excitement was too much to resist. He looked back at the screen, a simple cry of "Encore!" escaping his lips once more. It was a longing for that freedom, for the joy he'd just seen, and for the chance to feel alive in the moment.
Meanwhile, Renly, moved by the energy of the crowd, stepped forward. He raised his hands to the rhythm, and soon, Paul and Jennifer joined in, followed by the rest of the crew. Each beat became a connection between them all, their movements slightly awkward but full of joy, like children caught in the rain. The rhythm built and flowed, turning into a playful and spontaneous celebration.
As Renly moved to the beat, he felt free, letting the rhythm of the moment take over, just as he had in "Singing in the Rain." The audience, both live and at home, could feel the passion and movement. It was a moment of release, of living as if no one was watching, dancing without restraint, and singing as if no one could hear.
Eventually, the beat picked up, and Renly grabbed the microphone. His voice, like a bard's, filled the air:
"I won't miss it again, I won't miss it again, the love of my life. When I die alone, when I die alone, I don't miss it again."
It wasn't the song "Ophelia," but "Cleopatra." Renly's special performance was the cherry on top of this unforgettable hour. When he finished, he placed the microphone down, giving a gentlemanly knightly bow, expressing his gratitude to the crowd.
As the audience's cheers subsided, it was clear that this was a moment no one would forget. Rockefeller Plaza had transformed into something magical, as if the entire world had come together for one spectacular moment.
After the show, Rooney sat on the couch, curled up with her knees hugged to her chest, staring at the TV. Even though the program had ended and commercials had begun, she couldn't tear herself away. Her eyes welled up with tears, not from sadness, but from the overwhelming warmth and joy she had just witnessed. A single tear slipped down her cheek, but a smile bloomed on her face, radiating happiness.
She quickly reached for her phone, typed a message, and sent it out. Then, she stood up and opened the curtains. The golden sunlight poured into the room, filling the space with warmth. Rooney walked over to a bookshelf, picked out an album, and began to play the familiar tune of "Cleopatra," the opening song from the album Don Quixote—a melody that perfectly matched the lazy morning and the sense of possibility in the air.
Back in the show's waiting room, Nathan approached Renly with a smile, handing him his phone. "Renly, your private message," he said, "today's performance was absolutely spectacular!"
Renly smiled, thanked Nathan, and turned his attention to the phone. He opened the message, which had no subject or signature, just a simple line:
"Do you know the Day of the Dead in Mexico?"
The Day of the Dead is a celebration where, after a person dies, their spirit is believed to continue living in another world. This day honors the deceased, keeping their memory alive. It's said that everyone dies three times: the first when their heart stops, the second when their funeral is held, and the third when the last person who remembers them is gone.
A smile spread across Renly's face as he read the message. He quickly typed a reply and, as he did, he thought about how each moment of life, each encounter, each performance, felt like a chance to immortalize a piece of who we are.
The message he sent was simple but poignant:
"I am yearning for a third death."
With that, he packed up his phone and joined the crew, as the day's publicity schedule was far from over.