The Greatest Showman - Chapter 1187: Demonstrate for Yourself

In the film, LeVern-Davis performs six tracks in total. Among these, he delivers the same repertoire at both the beginning and the end of the film, but his mood and mentality evolve, showcasing different emotions—sighs and daze, fatigue and helplessness, bitterness and confusion—throughout the two performances.

This brings us back to Renly's original question:

Does LeVern's shift in mentality come through in the music?

If so, then the arrangement, singing style, emotional details, and performance control must be adjusted accordingly. Does this offer more room for actors to express themselves?

This also answers Joel's earlier question: What did Renly think about the film's soundtrack arrangement?

After carefully listening to Renly's explanation, Joel's jaw dropped slightly. "Yes, we need a subtle difference, but just a small one—only a slight shift in mentality. Not too much. It shouldn't be intense or too obvious. It should be a slow, bittersweet change. How would you perform it if you were arranging it?"

This is one of the reasons the Coen brothers have always been captivated by Renly.

If it were only about singing and acting, Oscar Isaac would have sufficed for their exacting standards. However, Renly's performance carries a unique subtlety—one that is deep enough to leave a lingering aftertaste, a reminiscence of the performance. This is evident in his roles in Crazy Love, the Herald Village version of Cleopatra, and the Grammy's The Beast.

Renly's performance seamlessly shows the nuanced shifts in LeVern's mentality within a single week. It appears calm on the surface but is truly magnificent.

At the first read-through with the crew, Renly's character interpretation already had Joel and Ethan captivated. Without direct communication, Renly's understanding of the character was strikingly similar to the Coen brothers' vision, even advancing their concept by blending character and music.

The question remains: how will Renly bring this vision to life? Will his deep understanding align with the Coen brothers' perspective?

"I'm not sure how to explain it," Renly said with a half-grin, "but right now, I can tell you, I'm not really a singer..." Everyone paused, stunned, but before they could react, Renly added, "But this is how I personally understand the character."

"LeVern is proud, even arrogant. He carries the intellectual pride of an artist—a sense of superiority that he is content with, despite the struggles in his life. He may be starving and unable to even afford a dinner, but his pride still stands. It's a metaphor, of course."

At this, the corners of everyone's mouths curled up slightly, feeling the humor in Renly's words.

"I mean, he's a fascinating and very relatable person. He represents a group of people who were struggling at the time—poor, humble, and hungry for success. Fame, wealth, glory—he wants it all, but he will not sacrifice his integrity to attain it."

"For many, this attitude seems foolish, even detestable—someone who looks down on others as if they are the only ones who have risen above the muck. But when they listen to his music, it all makes sense."

Renly smiled self-deprecatingly.

In that moment, it felt as though the person being described wasn't LeVern Davis, but himself.

It was a strange, absurd, and somewhat joyful feeling. If the connection to Gravity came from Chu Jiashu, then the connection to Drunk Town Ballad came from Renly-Hall himself.

"So at the beginning of the film, LeVern's singing is bold, self-centered, and full of energy. But by the end, his performance shifts to something more melancholy and dazed, tinged with confusion," Renly explained.

"But... I'm not a great singer. I don't have the raw, rugged voice of Dave Van Rank, and I haven't experienced the wave of the era that he did..." As Renly spoke, the crew began to laugh, and he smiled along with them. "I'm serious."

Justin joked from beside him, "Hey, last year's three Grammy winners!" The room burst into laughter.

Renly raised his hands in mock surrender. "I'm better at storytelling. For me, ballads are like stories—stories of life, dreams, and reality. That's why I prefer to interpret songs emotionally rather than just perform them."

"Jesus Christ," John Goodman laughed. "Boy, do you know how difficult that is? The 'Take Me Home' aria in Les Misérables isn't something just anyone can perform."

Renly shrugged. "Guess I'm a good singer then. Thank you." The group applauded, even John smiling. Renly flashed a quick smile and added, "I'm not sure how to express this, so let's just see how it feels to perform it."

"Wow, that's perfect." Joel clapped, and the others followed suit, Justin whistling, while Neil chimed in, "Guitar? Can someone hand Renly a guitar? Yeah, a guitar would work."

There was some confusion for a moment, but a guitar was soon handed over to Renly, who cradled it in his arms. At this point, he was singing as an actor, not as a singer—there was a subtle difference.

The song itself was part of the performance. Renly needed to get into LeVern's mindset, not his own. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to fully express the character's emotions. It was, in a way, a playful release of the performance's energy.

As Renly adjusted the strings, he raised an eyebrow. "Neil? Is this the one from the bar? Has it always been here?"

"Yeah," Joel chimed in eagerly. "We thought it would fit perfectly with the vibe of the movie, and with LeVern's character. So we borrowed it."

Renly chuckled. "God, now the Mulholland Drive vibes are getting stronger," he joked, and the Coen brothers, John Goodman, Maury Abraham, and Carey Mulligan all laughed. The rest of the crew were somewhat confused, but small moments like this revealed differences in their understanding of movies, art, and characters.

After adjusting the strings, Renly strummed, creating a light, melodic rhythm that felt like a clear spring flowing through golden sunlight. The crisp sound pierced the silence like a breeze, filling the valley with vitality.

"If I could spread my wings like Noah's dove, I would cross the rivers and pursue my true love. Waving goodbye, my love, may you cherish it. A giant in the sky, in my heart, standing tall and proud. Cannonball. Waving goodbye, my love, may you cherish it."

The articulation was clear, the rhythm light, and the melody resonated with an unrestrained, carefree energy. Renly's smile was bright, his brow subtly furrowed, the parting bittersweet yet filled with longing and hope for the future.

This was Dave Van Rank's "Dink Song."

In the original, Dave's voice carried the weight of experience, full of the weariness of a wandering soul. You could picture the bard stumbling through the yellow sands, a guitar and a beer in hand, a loner in search of meaning.

In Renly's version, the wanderer still exists, but there's a sense of freedom and indulgence, a confident rebellion, as though the man has the entire world at his feet, even if he has nothing at all.

Anyone who listens to both versions can feel the stark contrast.

Not only is the arrangement different, but Renly's expression and the way his fingers caress the strings imbue the song with a deep romance, pulling the listener into the emotion of the performance.

In this moment, LeVern Davis and Renly Hall merged, and Joel couldn't help but reflect on Renly's words earlier:

He is proud, lofty, and even arrogant. Even if penniless and destitute, he remains proud—proud of his persistence. Alone in a bar, humming his inner melody, he is, in that moment, the happiest person in the world.

Renly's playing stopped, his fingers gripping the strings, as the music lingered in the air. When he plucked the strings again, the melody slowed, subtle changes unfolding as the emotions of the song settled. There was a calmness that came with the pride of a man who could stand firm despite everything.