The Greatest Showman #1149 - Dark as the Tide

The difficulty of shooting the first long shot scene was all-encompassing.

One of the challenges stemmed from the environment itself—space. Not only could the angle of light and the spatial positions not be replicated on Earth, but they also demanded precise computer-generated special effects, posing significant challenges for the technical departments. The actors had to perform in an "unsupported" environment, where the usual points of reference between them, and between the actors and objects, were wrong, adding further complexity.

However, as filming progressed, the story's environment began to evolve, and more reference points were introduced. This gradual increase in reference material gave Alfonso more leverage, making the shooting process less difficult. Space effects remained a challenge, but once the technical hurdles of the opening long shot were overcome, things became more manageable.

By this point, the lighting changes remained a key part of creating the effects of space. The camera lens was fixed in position, and the coordination between the robotic IRIS arm and the actor became simpler and more direct. The props had also shifted from baskets to escape pod seats, allowing for better posture and performance from the actors.

As for Renly, the changes were minimal. The shooting environment had become familiar, and the discomfort had turned into routine. It was still grueling work—spending over ten hours in a light box—but he had become used to the physical and mental toll.

However, compared to the first shot, the focus of the lens had begun to zoom in, placing more weight on the actors and less on the technological effects. The actors now had to tell the story with their performances, and this shift made the work more challenging.

Perhaps the only real difference was that Renly had completely acclimated to the light box. Despite the physical exhaustion and mental strain from hours of shooting, he could now adjust his position more comfortably, allowing him to focus entirely on his performance.

As Rooney Mara put it, "This is the supernatural ability of an actor, but his skill is deeper than mine."

Renly sat in the escape pod seat, now alone in the studio as the crew made sure they were out of the camera's range, allowing the shooting to proceed.

Alfonso's voice crackled in Renly's ear, checking on the preparations of the various departments. But Renly, breaking the momentary calm, spoke up. "I need five minutes," he said, his voice loud and firm. There was no explanation, just the repeated insistence, "Give me five minutes."

This sudden request caught everyone off guard. It was an unusual occurrence, and all eyes shifted to Alfonso, waiting for his decision.

Alfonso's first instinct was to ask, "What happened?"

But as soon as the question left his lips, he realized how unnecessary it was. Renly was a dedicated actor. For a perfect scene, he would push himself to extremes, even endure personal discomfort. If something needed adjustment, Renly was the first to speak up.

Alfonso might not fully understand acting, but he knew their goals were aligned. Renly's request was not a crisis; it was simply a momentary need for focus.

Renly raised his right hand and spread his fingers, repeating, "Just... five minutes."

Alfonso did not press further. He gestured to the crew to remain quiet, signaling for them to stay still, and communicated this to the other staff. The studio gradually fell into silence.

Renly knew something wasn't quite right with him—not a specific issue, but more of a general feeling that needed settling. To calm himself, he closed his eyes, stretched his arms, and let the darkness in, allowing it to wash over him like a tide. He emptied his mind, letting every stray thought slip away until all that remained was the vastness of the darkness.

It felt like floating in an infinite void. The subtle touch of the darkness on his skin was akin to the gentle flow of water, cool and pervasive. Gradually, it spread through his veins, dissolving the weight of his body, making him feel both lighter and heavier, caught in a paradoxical sensation.

The darkness became more than just a void—it turned into a tide, rising and falling without swallowing him, simply floating on its surface. He felt weightless, like he was drifting in the Dead Sea, suspended and free.

But then, as the tide receded, the vast emptiness returned. He floated in the endless dark, like a leaf in the wind, detached from all sense of direction. Panic crept in. He flailed, searching for some anchor, but there was nothing—only the endless void.

The panic turned to frustration, then to anger, before evolving into despair. He fought against the suffocating stillness, but in the end, all resistance faded.

Silence returned, but it was not peaceful—just a profound loneliness that enveloped him.

Renly opened his eyes, staring off into the distance as though looking past the walls of the studio and into the vastness of the universe. His gaze was hollow, yet brimming with unspoken emotion—a mixture of life's complexities, sadness, and profound understanding.

At that moment, Alfonso thought of The Tree of Life, an image that suddenly came to mind, for reasons he couldn't quite explain.

Without needing any further cues, Alfonso knew Renly was ready. He motioned to the crew to finalize preparations and then gave the signal to begin filming.

"Start shooting!"

The words rang out, followed by a loud, crisp thump. But to everyone's surprise, Renly did not respond. The studio remained still, like a game of "One, Two, Three, Wooden People."

As the minutes passed, crew members exchanged glances, wondering whether Renly had heard the signal, or if he wasn't ready yet.

All eyes turned to Alfonso.

This time, Alfonso took a deep breath and remained silent, watching Renly carefully. He knew not to rush things, waiting patiently for the next shift. He even found himself slowing his own breath in quiet anticipation.

Emmanuel was equally absorbed, his gaze fixed on Renly. The depth and vastness conveyed through Renly's eyes stirred something inside him, sparking a rush of creativity. To Emmanuel, it was like peering into the mysteries of the universe, inspiring a new vision of the world.

Emmanuel loved moments like this—where no words, no actions were needed. The silent exchange between actor and camera, actor and audience, allowed for a deeper connection. It wasn't just storytelling; it was an invitation to think, reflect, and feel.

Then, when everyone was on the verge of doubt, Renly's voice broke the silence. Almost imperceptible, but clear enough for those who were listening closely, he whispered, "Houston... Houston?"