The Greatest Showman #1079 - Sequel Blueprint

Facing Barry, Renly could feel the pressure building around him, particularly from the sharp, ruthless gaze that radiated the aura of a powerful leader. It was clear Barry exuded the confidence of someone at the top of their game.

Though his expression remained neutral, the subtle tension in Renly's eyes spoke volumes, reflecting the pressure. It seemed that Renly's straightforwardness had irritated Barry, tightening his voice just slightly. "You know, there's more than one way to handle a script," he said.

"For example, after signing the contract, you can discuss with the screenwriter and director to finalize the script; or, you could join the crew as a producer to gain the right to review and revise the script. These options are all on the table." Barry spoke with intensity, his gaze fixed on Renly. He paused before adding, "It's not the most rational approach to present yourself this way before filming has even begun."

The superior attitude was clear, but to Renly, it was almost irrelevant. In the upper echelons, he was already well accustomed to such pressures. People like George Hall and Alf Hall had shown him this posture too.

Instead of feeling nervous under Barry's intense scrutiny, Renly smiled softly, his voice calm. "Mr. Mayer, do you know why I didn't star in the sequel to The Fast and the Furious?"

Barry's brow furrowed at the title. "Mr. Mayer" was a respectful address, but in this context, it carried an almost ironic undertone. Renly's demeanor seemed gentle, almost disarming, but his words carried a challenge, setting the stage for a subtle clash.

"There are plenty of rumors in the industry, so it's not a secret. The truth is, I turned down the invitation because I wasn't happy with the pay," Renly continued, speaking candidly. Barry's eyes narrowed, but Renly's tone remained unflinching. "Honestly, I don't have strong feelings about doing the sequel or not. My agent handles those decisions for me."

Barry's expression darkened, clearly probing Renly's motives. Renly remained composed, continuing his explanation. "As far as I'm concerned, I'm an actor, just an actor. I've tried my hand at screenwriting, but it's not something I'm good at beyond making suggestions. My passion lies in acting, and without a script, I can't do much. That's why I don't make judgments before seeing the work."

Unhurried, calm, and steady, Renly's words flowed easily, his smile in place. But beneath the calm exterior, there was an unmistakable determination, a firmness in his stance that was impossible to miss.

Barry's gaze sharpened, the tension growing, but he said nothing, allowing the silence to settle. Renly met his stare without flinching, making the atmosphere grow thicker. Slowly, Barry's discomfort became apparent, while Renly remained entirely at ease.

After what felt like an eternity, Barry broke the silence with a soft clap. His expression lightened, and a smile emerged, though it was more of an acknowledgment than warmth. "Well-deserved reputation," he remarked, a hint of respect in his voice.

Before coming to London, Barry had already heard the rumors about Renly being a tough nut to crack. He was rumored to be driven purely by performance, uninterested in the usual trappings of fame or fortune. While such actors might seem simple to work with—focused entirely on their craft and not worried about financial stakes—the truth was far more complex. They were often picky about scripts and roles, leaving little room for error.

At first, Barry had brushed off these rumors, thinking them to be a smokescreen created by Renly's agent. After all, Renly was still young, and few young actors had such a clear vision for their careers. But now, Barry was experiencing firsthand just how steadfast Renly's resolve was.

Still, Barry shook his head, his tone turning a bit more serious. "You know, though, your approach can be a bit... too blunt. It's easy to offend people if you're not careful."

Renly quipped, "So that's why Universal Pictures stopped talking to me?"

Barry froze for a moment, surprised, then laughed heartily, slapping his thigh. The tension eased, and the atmosphere lightened.

Barry, however, wasn't finished. He swiftly got back to the matter at hand. "As for the sequel, we've already reached out to the author of the original novel. We're hoping he'll write a follow-up, which we can then adapt into a script."

"We're dealing with a story that's steeped in Eastern mysticism. The core involves themes like reincarnation, time travel, and the butterfly effect. It's a tricky concept. If we're not careful, it could lead to a disaster. We need to approach this with caution," Barry explained, his tone becoming more measured and thoughtful.

The project was serious. Barry's words flowed, outlining the preparations for the Edge of Tomorrow sequel.

"We're not just looking for a sequel; we're aiming for something bigger—a trilogy, if possible. But the most important thing is to create a sequel that works and actually makes money." His frankness was refreshing, and Renly couldn't help but smile at his directness.

"If we can, I'd like to keep the same cast and crew, right from the planning stage. I want you and Paul to be involved in the brainstorming process, creating ideas, and really continuing William Cage's story," Barry said, his passion for the project evident.

Renly was taken aback, impressed by Barry's vision. Barry's ambition was grand, far beyond just a simple sequel. It was a potential franchise, perhaps even something on the scale of Raiders of the Lost Ark—a series that could define an actor's career and create a legacy. Barry's final question hit Renly unexpectedly: "How about it? Are you interested in being the next Indiana Jones?"

Renly had never expected Edge of Tomorrow to take such a turn. In his previous life, the film's box office performance had been underwhelming, despite good reviews. The sequel had always been in limbo. But this time, the success of the first film, coupled with Warner Bros.'s confidence, meant that the sequel held far more promise.

Renly wasn't interested in producing, but the idea of shaping a character and a story from such a high level intrigued him. The potential to contribute to the story's growth while honing his craft as an actor was enticing. Barry's vision wasn't just for a sequel—it was for a new phase in Renly's career, a chance to become part of something much bigger.

"I'm not sure about being the next Indiana Jones," Renly replied, his tone measured. "But I'm definitely interested in being part of the Edge of Tomorrow sequel, even if I'm not the lead."

Though Renly didn't jump in with unrestrained enthusiasm, his willingness to engage with the project was clear. For Barry, that was enough.

Barry's role as the head of the project was simple: present the idea, gauge Renly's response, and set things in motion. As for the specifics, both parties would bring in their teams and meet again later to iron out the details. Barry's mission in London had been a success so far, but there was still work to be done.