The Greatest Showman #1164 - 1 Hit

When Renly first watched The Ballad of Drunken Township in his past life, he didn't notice the cat named Ulysses, being more captivated by the ballad's melody than the film itself. However, revisiting the film in this life, the reflections and aftertaste became much deeper. The image of Le Verne-Davis grew clearer, and the significance of the cat became more apparent.

This clarity was partly due to Renly's aristocratic education, which allowed him to truly appreciate Ulysses, the great work of literature, and to understand the Ulysses of Greek mythology. On the other hand, after pursuing his dreams once again, the experiences and wisdom he had accumulated over time naturally contributed to this newfound understanding.

Historically, male actors in Hollywood and European films have had an average prime age of thirty-five to fifty. Excluding the well-known gender disparity against actresses, this makes sense from an artistic perspective. After years of experience and life lessons, actors tend to grow more mature and insightful in their craft, reinterpreting and recreating performances at a higher level. Even with the demands of an intense filming schedule, seasoned actors can still deliver exceptional performances.

Renly agreed with this sentiment.

Without being a reincarnate, it would have been nearly impossible for Renly to reach the heights he did at twenty-two or twenty-three. Though his body was that of a young man, his mind was that of a fifty-five-year-old—a result of living two lifetimes. Concepts that once seemed unfathomable were gradually becoming clearer.

This was true of his current experience as well.

Now, revisiting The Drunken Country Ballad and the cat Ulysses, Renly's perspective had completely changed.

"Also, are you allergic to cats?" Ethan asked, his tone serious.

Renly smiled broadly and shook his head, "No, not at all."

Ethan, unaware of Renly's deeper thoughts, nodded in satisfaction. "That's good. I think... that should be all."

After a brief pause, Ethan, still unsure, looked over at Joel and asked if he had anything to add. After Joel shook his head, Ethan turned back to Renly. "So, what about you? Any special requests or preferences for this collaboration?"

Renly shrugged casually, still smiling. "As far as I'm concerned, everything is fine. For the specific details, you can contact my agent Andy for the contract. By the way, I need the script and the final master."

This smoothness was another pleasant surprise. Joel, eager to start, leaned forward. "Wow, then it's settled! Should we dive into discussing the script, the characters, and the co-stars?"

Renly raised his hand to stop the conversation. "Hey, don't forget. We're at the 'Gravity' photography base right now. If we openly talk about another project here, are you sure?"

Although Renly's words were lighthearted, Ethan immediately understood the underlying message. Renly needed a break. At least for the next day or two, regardless of the urgency of The Ballad of Drunken Country, he needed to shift out of the "Gravity" performance mode first.

Ethan caught on quickly. "Of course, that would be improper. Afterward, we'll make sure to visit Alfonso to express our apologies and gratitude."

Joel, momentarily caught off guard, then processed Ethan's comment. He sheepishly cleared his throat. "Yes, I agree... well... then..." He slouched onto the sofa, feigning annoyance, and started idly inspecting the teacup next to him.

Ethan grimaced. "Now you know why we don't have many friends in Hollywood."

Renly couldn't help but smile.

The entire meeting, from the initial greeting to the final agreements, lasted less than ten minutes. After months of indecision, Renly finally committed to The Drunken Country Ballad as his next film. Following his Oscar win, speculation surrounding his career choices had intensified. Many wondered if the so-called "Golden Man's Curse" would affect him, particularly after the commercial success of Edge of Tomorrow.

Since Edge of Tomorrow was completed before his Oscar win, Renly hadn't yet reached his peak status, but now, with an Oscar and a blockbuster success under his belt, his career and reputation were reaching new heights.

The gap between these heightened expectations and the realities of the industry often creates uncertainty—what some might call the "magic mantra."

Yet, Renly seemed oblivious to this so-called curse. He had already begun working on Les Miserables, followed by Gravity, and now The Ballad of Drunken Country—a relentless pace of work that kept him grounded.

Despite concerns over the risks associated with the sci-fi genre of Gravity or the possibility of a director like the Coen brothers overshadowing his style, Renly's unwavering commitment to his craft quelled such worries.

The Drunken Country Ballad welcomed him aboard with open arms.

Renly's agent, Andy Rogers, had communicated thoroughly with the Coen brothers, and negotiations proceeded smoothly. Independent films often see smoother negotiations when directors are sincere and actors prioritize their performances.

The Coen brothers had always worked with modest budgets. Films like No Country for Old Men and Serious Man had costs of $25 million and $7 million, respectively. The Ballad of Drunken Country fell within a budget range of $10 to $15 million, though the exact figure remained unclear.

In the end, Renly agreed to a salary of $500,000, along with a 5% box-office bonus.

Objectively, $500,000 was a modest fee, even for a supporting role. The Coen brothers had initially offered $1.5 million, but Andy had declined this offer, opting for a lower upfront fee in exchange for a potential box-office stake.

Though the Coen brothers' films weren't typically blockbusters, their recognition within the industry was undeniable. The 5% box-office share, while small, served more as a gesture of goodwill—a token of trust and future collaboration.

For Andy, it was a calculated decision. Rejecting the $1.5 million upfront, he chose to leverage the Coen brothers' trust and the industry recognition Renly would gain. This strategy, in the long run, held more value than a one-time payday.

As for Renly, money wasn't the priority. He didn't mind the smaller fee, knowing that the true financial rewards would come from more mainstream projects like Edge of Tomorrow and Gravity. His focus remained on the craft and on working with directors like the Coen brothers who could elevate his artistry.

In a phone call, Andy confirmed Renly's decision. "Are you sure? Half a million isn't much, especially for an agency looking to make a mark."

Renly chuckled. "Shouldn't I be asking you that? This deal might not pay much, but I think it's good for you in the long run."

Andy laughed too. "Don't worry, I'm in a great position right now. In fact, I might even get the chance to become a partner this year."

"Wow, congratulations!" Renly responded, genuinely happy for his agent.

"Thanks," Andy replied with a smile, though his tone held a double meaning.