The Greatest Showman - Chapter 1207
LeVern and Mickey epitomize this paradox. On one hand, they long for their artistic vision to bear fruit, but reality is cold and indifferent to personal ambitions. On the other, they question whether their artistic integrity holds any real meaning, all while feeling the pressure to conform to commercial demands that make their efforts seem futile.
The weight of these thoughts was heavy, yet the words spoken in the studio were electric with passion. Even Renly, immersed in his own world, found himself captivated by the moment.
Justin nodded firmly. "That's exactly what it means. This song holds special significance for both Mickey and LeVern."
"I remember on the first day of rehearsals, you mentioned two versions of the same song. The first reflects LeVern's high-spirited confidence—because deep down, he still believes in himself. The second, however, captures his loneliness and self-doubt, showing the passage of time and the erosion of his convictions."
Justin, who usually struggled with understanding the nuances of performance, surprised even himself with this insight. Acting had never been his strong suit—his grasp of character depth was often superficial. Yet, working alongside Renly had been an eye-opening experience. Renly's subtle yet powerful approach to character portrayal had a way of making abstract ideas tangible, layering depth into every performance.
The words spoken that first day now resurfaced, vivid and undeniable.
"Just like Mickey," Justin added thoughtfully, his gaze lingering on Renly. It wasn't just idle conversation anymore—it felt real.
Renly furrowed his brows slightly, a playful smirk forming at the corner of his lips. "Are all singers like this?"
Justin countered with a rhetorical question. "Aren't actors the same? Or rather, aren't all artists like this? Even Bob Dylan or Meryl Streep don't necessarily love every piece of their work."
Marcus and Ben, sitting nearby, nodded in agreement.
This time, it was Renly who momentarily struggled to keep up with the rhythm of the discussion. He let out a chuckle, the realization sinking in.
"That does make sense."
Unlike many actors, Renly was unwavering in his choices. Every project he pursued was a careful selection, one he not only accepted but wholeheartedly loved—whether it was a high-budget blockbuster like Edge of Tomorrow or an indie production like Inside Llewyn Davis.
But not all actors were as fortunate.
After a pause, Renly nodded in understanding. "Then let's try it out—complete the arrangement and rhythm, perform it live, and compare the revised version. We'll adjust the style slightly, similar to Five Hundred Miles…"
"Don't worry," Justin interjected. "Five Hundred Miles will have a more modern feel. Stark, Carrey, and I experimented with different guitar frets to highlight distinct sections and create a three-part harmony. Marcus had a point—banjos weren't commonly used in the 1960s, and adding one would feel anachronistic."
Marcus and Ben joined the discussion, debating how to define Mickey's musical style while ensuring the adaptation stayed true to its roots. The session became a flurry of creativity, each contribution layering onto the next.
Justin glanced at Renly amid the excitement. Without fanfare, they had seamlessly entered a working rhythm. Justin, who had initially worried about keeping up, found himself fully integrated into the conversation, his contributions natural and fluid. There was no need for formal introductions or awkward small talk—just pure collaboration.
It was comfortable, effortless.
And it all started with a single, offhand question from Renly.
Justin pondered—was that intentional or just instinctive?
Before he could delve deeper, his thoughts dissipated. He grabbed a guitar from the corner and jumped into the creative process.
"I think the rhythm is still too fast. Let's slow it down."
"You mean, in the first part, let the emotions settle? The lightness of the melody contrasting with the sadness of the lyrics?"
"Exactly. Then, we express the unrestrained and uninhibited nature of LeVern through the performance. That's why he compromises."
"Let's give it a try. I don't see a problem with that."
"What rhythm does Five Hundred Miles use?"
The room buzzed with discussion. Even when the Coen brothers arrived, they were immediately swept into the process. Time became irrelevant. Even mealtime couldn't interrupt their momentum—conversations continued over melodies, rhythms, and arrangements.
By the time the Inside Llewyn Davis team left the recording studio, night had fallen. The wind howled through the empty streets, biting against their skin. Taxis were scarce.
Renly, carrying his guitar, bid his farewells and disappeared into the dimly lit streets. His figure, illuminated briefly by the streetlamp, vanished around the corner, swallowed by the city's vast solitude.
"Is he always like this?" Marcus asked as he and Kerry walked in the opposite direction, arm in arm.
"What do you mean?" Kerry replied, puzzled.
Marcus shrugged. "I mean, always so distant and solitary? When I first saw him today, that suit threw me off—he looked like…"
"A folk singer from the '60s?" Kerry offered.
Marcus thought for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah, exactly. A folk singer from the 1960s."
A small smile formed on Kerry's lips. "That's who he is. He's been like that since he joined the cast. Sometimes, we can't even tell if he's Renly or LeVern."
Her eyes lit up as she continued. "Joel and I were just discussing this—how Renly and LeVern feel so distinct, yet seamlessly intertwined. I can tell they're different people, but I can't quite explain why."
Marcus smirked. "You seem happier than I've seen you in months."
"I am," Kerry admitted. "I feel incredibly lucky to be part of this project. You know, on the first day, Renly looked so different. He was just wearing a simple white shirt, but there was already something striking about him. And now…"
She trailed off, lost in thought.
Marcus chuckled and leaned in to kiss her. "Well, I get it now. I finally understand why he was so adamant about Don Quixote as an album—it was never just an album. He is Llewyn Davis."
He continued, "That entire album was raw and unapologetic, hiding life's struggles within its melodies and lyrics. But nobody cared back then. Maybe now, with its newfound success, it's finally getting the recognition it deserves—but Renly knew the truth all along."
Kerry and Marcus exchanged glances. A singer and an actor, yet they found themselves on the same wavelength. They laughed softly, reveling in the shared understanding.
"You said he's been living like LeVern?" Marcus mused. "So… is he couch-surfing too? If he asks to crash at our place, should we say yes?"