The Greatest Showman #1155 - Self-Torture

Rooney stood in front of Renly, her neat short hair framing her face, her features sharp and precise, exuding a coolness, a hint of alienation. Sweat made her hair cling to her temples, the faint hint of exhaustion betraying her composure. Her eyes, though deep and intense, held a spark of gentleness, their light flickering like stars.

Renly observed her silently, the illusion in her gaze slowly fading, the shifting world of light and shadow fading away, until reality, heavy with gravity, grounded him. The clarity of the present moment washed over him, making Rooney's face more vivid, and he could sense the warmth of her concern shining through her eyes.

"I'm fine," Renly said, his eyes still locked on the space between her brows. After a pause, he smiled faintly, shook his head, and added, "I'm serious. Just a bit drained. I need to hydrate before the bathroom break."

There was a shared moment of humor between them—a subtle inside joke only two actors, confined in a box of light for too long, could truly appreciate.

Rooney chuckled, a little dumbfounded. "Jesus Christ, are you sure you didn't steal Alex's lines?"

In an instant, Renly had gone from the stoic, frozen Ryan Stone to a witty, playful version of himself. The sharp contrast was so sudden, it was clear he had fully stepped out of character.

Renly's gaze dropped to where Rooney was supporting him, her left arm helping hold him steady. Her seemingly fragile frame radiated an unexpected strength. The determination in her eyes gave her an almost heroic presence.

A smile tugged at Renly's lips again. "This is the second time."

The first time had been on the first day of filming.

The crew had said Renly was drained, dehydrated, and had briefly lost consciousness.

If it hadn't been for Rooney's timely intervention, the situation could have escalated further. Without her support, a fall could have led to sprains, fractures, or even more severe injuries.

Today, it was the second time.

Renly's words lingered in the air, but Rooney didn't respond immediately. When she finally noticed his gaze, she let out a soft laugh and raised an eyebrow. "So, this is in line with the two-subrule?" she quipped.

The two-day rule, the two-time rule. Though the concepts were different, they came from the same place.

Rooney's mind was racing, and Renly, after a brief moment of confusion, caught on. His eyes twinkled with amusement, but he responded with mock solemnity, "Yes, I'm not entirely sure about the two rules, but they're rather strict. I still refuse to date the same person more than twice. So, we should be clear."

"Phew, I'm relieved." Rooney chuckled, patting her chest.

As they shared this lighthearted moment, they noticed Nathan standing awkwardly nearby, unsure whether to approach but hesitant to interrupt. His hesitant expression made them both laugh.

Renly gave Nathan a reassuring nod, and with his help, he finally sat down. His muscles, tense from exhaustion, relaxed slightly. It wasn't a matter of physical strength, but rather tenderness in his knees and dehydration that had taken their toll.

With a glass of water in hand, Renly began to hydrate slowly. Alfonso and Emmanuel approached, and Renly shot them a questioning glance. "How's the filming going?"

"Perfect! It's looking beautiful!" Alfonso snapped his fingers, his face lit with excitement. The completion of each key scene was a step closer to a perfect final product. Just imagining the outcome thrilled him.

Renly's eyes darted between Alfonso and Emmanuel. "But?" he asked, sensing the real point of discussion.

Sure enough, Alfonso hesitated, and Emmanuel quickly took over. "In the last shot, we used medium shots to capture the dynamic between Ryan and Alex, positioning them within the confines of the cabin. But during the filming, I noticed the eye contact between you two—it felt… electric."

He paused to collect his thoughts. "So, I was thinking—what if we shift the camera language to emphasize the connection between the two characters? We could change the framing between close-ups, minimizing the influence of the cabin's space and really honing in on the silent communication between the characters. It would elevate the emotional depth of the scene."

Essentially, this meant re-shooting the scene. They would need to reconsider the camera angles, and post-production would decide whether to use the new footage or stick with what they already had.

The actors' hard work might end up being scrapped. It was a risk.

Alfonso, aware of the weight of Emmanuel's suggestion, added, "Personally, I think the first version is already perfect. It matches what I envisioned when writing the script. But... Emmanuel does have a point. There's real chemistry between you two."

His eyes darted between Renly and Rooney, an unspoken implication hanging in the air. "Are you sure… Ryan and Alex don't have something more between them?"

"Director," both Renly and Rooney said in unison, exchanging a brief but amused glance. Renly smiled.

"We've already discussed this," Renly said, as he exchanged a playful look with Rooney.

Alfonso threw his hands up in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. I get it."

Rooney, ever quick on the draw, added, "Maybe we should leave some space for the audience to interpret. We don't want to distract from the story—survival and life are the focus. But, beyond that, it's good to give them something to chew on."

Alfonso nodded thoughtfully. "I agree with Emmanuel. In this scene, the communication between Ryan and Alex through dialogue feels a bit forced. Both of you are fantastic actors, and you've filled the gaps with your eyes. I was thinking, maybe when Alex sacrifices herself for Ryan, we capture a close-up of their eyes. Could we create a callback with that?"

"As Rooney said," Emmanuel continued, "the connection could be expressed through the lens language, not just through the script, but through the performance itself. This would make the transition smoother and more organic."

Alfonso finished speaking, but after a pause, his face shifted. A frown of worry creased his brow.

He understood how difficult this scene had been for Renly and Rooney. Their incredible chemistry was the key to its success. Asking them to redo it felt like a form of punishment.

"Renly, sorry... I..." Alfonso started, unsure of how to continue.

Renly cut him off with a smile and a shake of his head. "Let's do it again. Let's try something new."

Renly turned to Rooney, his eyes silently questioning her.

She shrugged eagerly. "Then what are we waiting for? Let's start now."

"Are you sure?" Alfonso asked once more.

"Yes, I'm sure." Renly's smile deepened.

The reshoot was going to be a kind of self-inflicted torture. Not a physical one, but one that ran deep into his soul.

Filming Gravity had opened up new creative avenues for Renly. His approach to the character—meshing control with vulnerability—had evolved. Every shift in his eyes, every subtle movement, added a layer to the character, transforming him in ways he hadn't anticipated.

But as much as it was an artistic growth, it was also a painful process. It was like wading through the ocean's depths, lost in the blurring line between fiction and reality. The struggle wasn't between the two, but within himself—his pain, his demons.

And Heather.

The torment Renly felt was like tearing his soul apart, a constant reliving of those past moments.

But he didn't shy away. He embraced it, understanding that this was the nature of performance. The creation, the collision of ideas, the search for perfection—it was an ongoing process.

Just like Aloof, just like Gravity.

Renly admired Emmanuel's insight into the work, and was open to the idea of pushing himself further.

The storm was only beginning. Let it come.