The Greatest Showman #1121 - Spoof Legend
Objectively speaking, every film is like an intricate puzzle, with the director responsible for assembling it. The actors, cinematographers, and every other crew member are merely pieces contributing to the whole. Yet, because actors receive the most exposure, they naturally attract the most attention.
Renly's statement was precise.
That said, each film is unique, with its own emphasis. Some films prioritize the script—like the works of Woody Allen. Others lean on special effects, cinematography, and visual storytelling, as seen in Avatar. Then there are films where the actor is the unequivocal focal point, such as First Lady and Darkest Hour.
In Buried, Renly's performance was the very heartbeat of the film, carrying the entire narrative on his shoulders. Even the depth of the script was realized through his portrayal. Conversely, in Gravity, though only two actors were present, they were not the center of the film.
The true nucleus of Gravity was Alfonso Cuarón. The entire production revolved around his vision. During pre-production—particularly while crafting the first long take—the actors were not even the most crucial components. They were not the Earth or Saturn but rather small asteroids in a vast cosmic design.
As Renly had pointed out, they were merely another piece of the puzzle, not the main event.
This is why he and Rooney had no real reason to attend the technical conference.
The initial discussions had taken place without actors because their presence was unnecessary. Alfonso and Emmanuel would later inform them of the key technical details—
"Here's the wide shot. Here's the close-up. This is where the camera moves. This is your dialogue."
From there, the actors would undergo simulation shoots, internalizing the process like cogs fitting into a machine. Step by step, the production would take form.
So Renly and Rooney didn't entirely grasp the discussion; nor did they need to.
Before Emmanuel was called upon, Renly and Rooney had been whispering to each other:
"We're like marionettes, just following directions and executing tasks step-by-step. No freedom, no improvisation. We shouldn't be the focus right now."
Ordinarily, referring to actors as marionettes would be insulting. But in the case of an 18-minute unbroken take, it was the highest compliment—a mark of precision and discipline.
The sheer absurdity of it made both of them chuckle—right before Emmanuel was put on the spot.
Rooney, shaking her head with a small smile, glanced at Renly before addressing Emmanuel.
"Renly's simply saying that we understand our role. We're here to observe, cooperate, and grasp the overall shooting blueprint."
Her cool tone carried an underlying amusement, easing the tension and defusing the situation.
Only then did Emmanuel realize the absurdity of his reaction. Renly and Rooney didn't need to be at the meeting at all—yet they were. More importantly, Renly wasn't even fully recovered, yet he had already stepped into work mode ahead of schedule.
Emmanuel's previous tone hadn't been particularly kind.
He opened his mouth, intending to apologize, but hesitated.
Renly, however, spoke first. "I have a question—about the actors."
He rose from his seat and approached the whiteboard.
"Rooney and I have discussed some minor adjustments to the characters. I wanted to ask—if we add a shot here…"
Just like that, Emmanuel's focus shifted, and the discussion resumed. The studio was back in work mode.
The technical meeting lasted nearly six hours before hunger forced a break. After dinner, discussions resumed, continuing over the next several days. Pioneering breakthroughs in cinematic technology wasn't an easy feat.
As the crew dispersed, Emmanuel hurried to catch up with Renly.
He hesitated, then finally blurted out, "Sorry. That was rude of me."
Without waiting for a response, he quickly walked away, disappearing into the crowd. His hurried retreat spoke volumes.
Renly, momentarily stunned, then chuckled.
Rooney, beside him, raised an eyebrow. "You do realize you've terrified half the crew, right? Shooting is going to be a lot more entertaining now."
Renly didn't respond immediately. He simply tilted his head back, gazing at the moon now peeking over the treetops. Then, with a dramatic sigh, he shook his head.
"Damn. The sun's already down. I missed my chance to prove myself."
Rooney's expression froze.
"…Was that a vampire joke?"
Renly turned to her with an exaggeratedly solemn expression. "Why? Are you afraid?"
His deadpan delivery only amplified the absurdity of the moment.
Rooney pursed her lips, nodding gravely. "Yes. Terrified."
The sheer contrast between her words and her unbothered tone sent the conversation into the realm of ridiculousness.
Renly gave a solemn nod. "Indeed. You should be."
Neither laughed outright, yet the undercurrent of amusement remained.
Nearby crew members, who had eavesdropped on the exchange, stared in bewilderment before hastily walking away—as if they had just overheard two lunatics. Or two vampires.
The paranoia escalated.
For the next few weeks, the crew noticed something peculiar: Renly carried a thermos everywhere. He refused bottled water or any other beverages provided by the set, drinking only from his thermos. Even stranger, after every sip, his lips seemed to turn an unnatural shade of red.
And only Nathan, his assistant, was allowed to handle the thermos. Not even Roy, another member of the team, was permitted. When Roy once touched it, Nathan nearly exploded in fury, and even Renly's expression darkened. Shortly after, Roy mysteriously left the set for three days.
When questioned, Nathan merely said Roy had gone to London on business. Nobody quite believed him.
Then came the real turning point.
During a break in filming, Renly and Rooney excused themselves, saying they needed a moment to recover. Alfonso agreed.
Minutes later, they reappeared—from behind a prop wall.
Witnesses exchanged glances.
The first thought? Scandal.
Hollywood's hottest young actors sneaking off together? The gossip potential was astronomical.
But before rumors could solidify, someone pointed out a peculiar detail.
"Did you see Rooney covering her neck?"
"Maybe she has a hickey."
"But Renly's lips were bright red again. And Rooney looked—pale."
"Actually, now that you mention it, she did seem unsteady. I asked if she was okay, and she said she's been dealing with anemia and low blood sugar."
"…Anemia."
A chilling silence followed.
One by one, crew members exchanged glances, paranoia creeping in. Murmurs of folklore and legend spread like wildfire. Someone even unearthed a theory that Renly's lineage traced back to medieval Europe—a noble house with a dark and secretive past.
At this point, the crew wasn't sure what was real anymore.
But one thing was certain: Gravity had inadvertently become the set of Ghostbusters.