The Greatest Showman#1202 - see also attention
One by one, audience members exited the bar, their animated conversations echoing their restless excitement. Yet, the line at the entrance showed no signs of shrinking—instead, it stretched further as more people gathered, eager and unwilling to leave. Over a thousand fans now surrounded the venue, their anticipation undeterred by the passing hours.
The filming was done, the show over.
Everyone knew that. Still, they lingered—not just in hopes of seeing Renly, but to unravel the mystery of what they had just witnessed. From the bar's entrance, muffled melodies drifted into the night, teasing but never quite revealing. The need to know, to hear, to relive the moment kept them rooted to the spot.
Those lucky enough to be inside during the shoot emerged with expressions of wonder, their faces alight with an indescribable energy. Instantly, they were swarmed by eager listeners, desperate for even the smallest detail. Any glimpse into the magic of the bar's atmosphere was enough to send the crowd into another frenzy.
Yet, secrecy reigned. To prevent spoilers, the "Drunken Country Ballads" production team had confiscated all electronic devices before allowing attendees inside. This was both a practical measure to protect the film's footage and a deliberate choice to preserve the authenticity of the 1960s setting—a world without mobile phones or digital cameras.
So now, before any official trailer or footage had been released, speculation ran rampant.
Renly Hall starring in a film about folk music? As a 1960s folk singer? Would he be performing the songs live? The very thought sent shivers down the spines of those present.
Many had missed his "One Man Concert." Others had failed to catch his Grammy performance. The only taste they'd had of Renly's live music was a brief appearance on the "Today Show"—hardly enough to satisfy the hunger of his fans. Each missed opportunity only deepened the craving.
And now, finally, a chance.
Here was Renly as both an actor and a musician. "Drunken Country Ballads" promised a fusion of his two greatest talents—a rare spectacle for both cinephiles and music lovers alike. And with the Coen brothers at the helm, expectations soared even higher.
Manhattan at Midnight:
Over a thousand fans braved the chilly night air, huddled outside Pioneer Village. The drizzle had turned to mist, wrapping the crowd in an eerie, dreamlike atmosphere. Yet, they remained, discussing the night's performance in hushed, fervent tones, replaying every second in their minds, unwilling to let the magic slip away.
For a moment, it felt as though they had truly traveled back to the 1960s—the golden era of folk music. A time when fans would wait all night just for a performance. A time when music was raw, pure, and alive in the soul. A time when entertainment was scarce, yet spirits were rich beyond measure.
In reality, Renly had left Pioneer Village around 11:20 PM.
Unlike most stars, he didn't slip away through the back exit. Instead, he walked through the front door, meeting the crowd head-on. He slowed his steps, offering warm smiles and greetings, his gratitude genuine.
"It's almost midnight," he said, voice calm but carrying through the night. "And the weather isn't exactly friendly. Let's call it a night and head home."
But the crowd groaned in protest.
"I can't sleep after this," someone called out. "You've teased us too much!"
Renly chuckled. "In that case, why not step inside the bar? Drinks on me. At least that way, you'll be warm."
A murmur of amusement rippled through the crowd. "No, no," a voice countered. "We don't want drinks. We want a concert!"
"Yes! When's the concert?"
"We need a live performance!"
Their relentless enthusiasm made Renly laugh. "Then just wait for the movie," he teased. "Trust me, you won't be disappointed. We only filmed the first scene tonight, but I have a good feeling about this one."
Though he didn't answer their demands for a concert, his words sent another wave of cheers through the crowd.
As the excitement roared on, Nathan pulled Renly's car up to the curb. Renly opened the door but paused, waiting as Paul carefully carried a small bundle—wrapped in two thick blankets—into the car before climbing in himself. Only once they were settled did Renly close the door and turn back to the crowd.
"Justin is still inside," he called out playfully. "If you're looking for someone to pester, he's your guy."
With that, he climbed into the passenger seat, and Nathan eased the car into motion.
In Paul's arms lay Anne, fast asleep. She had been scheduled to return to the hospital at 11 PM, but delays at the bar had pushed their timeline back. The cold New York weather had worn her out; she had drifted into slumber long before they even left.
Renly and Paul quietly escorted her home, while the energy at Pioneer Village continued to burn through the night.
—
On Twitter, the frenzy erupted:
"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god! Biggest anticipation for 2013: 'Drunken Country Ballads'! It JUST started filming, and I already can't wait! What do I do? Renly is ridiculously handsome, and when he sings—time just rewinds! I can't stop screaming!"
"I'm losing my mind! Pioneer Village tonight—it was like stepping into a dream! Like a damn oil lamp-lit bar from the '60s! I think I just fell in love with folk music!"
"The '60s were reckless and decadent, lost and full of yearning. Tonight, through Renly's singing—through the story of Llewyn Davis—I finally felt that mystery come alive. What do I do? I LOVE IT!"
"RENLY HALL! RENLY HALL! RENLY HALL! Why is he so addictive?! And I'm a guy! What the hell?!"
"A voice like poetry, a presence like sunlight. Tonight, all praise goes to Renly Hall."
"I still can't believe Renly is only twenty-three. It's like he actually lived through the '60s! He's too real. I was sitting with a Vietnam vet tonight. He barely spoke, just kept smoking cigarette after cigarette. And when he finally got up to leave, all he said was: 'That's a damn good actor.'"
The excitement was uncontrollable.
The next morning, reporters swarmed Pioneer Village, desperate for scraps of information. But the "Drunken Country Ballads" crew had already packed up and moved on, now filming deeper in Greenwich Village.
Interviews were flatly denied; the only official statement released was that they were "fully immersed in production."
Still, the press uncovered another tantalizing clue—
Woody Allen had been spotted at the shoot.
The notoriously private filmmaker, infamous for his aloofness, had stayed for the entire performance. Fans even managed to get his autograph as he left.
When asked about his thoughts, Woody was succinct:
"He's an excellent performer. I always love tavern performances—authentic, rich in history. I've missed too many before, but this time, I got to see it live. It was wonderful."
And when asked to elaborate?
He simply replied, "I liked it."