The Greatest Showman #1218 - Character Life

"These two characters already have their own stories."

LeVern and Jane have transcended the script—they now live in their own world, with their own lives and stories. They are not merely fictional characters; they are truly alive.

It's as if the author's pen has given birth to them, but once these characters gained their own personalities and souls, the development of the story moved beyond the author's control. The characters now make their own decisions, whether in how they handle situations, how they perceive others, or even how they solve the problems life throws at them. It's as if they have truly come to life.

In 2006, Emma Thompson and Will Ferrell co-starred in Life in the Pen (also known as Fantasy Life), a film about a character who comes to life within the confines of the author's creation. As the character gains independence, the story itself spirals out of control.

Now, the vitality of Drunken Country Ballad is rooted in the two actors playing its lead roles.

Ethan, an excellent director, is also a talented actor, though one who feels stifled.

Renly's explanation about their roles lingered in Ethan's mind. It felt paradoxical, yet faintly inspiring. He wasn't sure whether to believe it, but then a realization struck him. He wondered if this marked the next level in artistic creation—one where characters, actors, and the story itself all became part of something greater than the script.

But Ethan couldn't get an answer this time. Renly just smiled, nodded, and walked away. Kerry, following Renly's lead, stood up and flashed Ethan a bright smile, "Director, we should be leaving." She followed the rest of the crew out, leaving Ethan in deep thought.

As he stood there, Ethan replayed the scene from earlier in his mind, dissecting it over and over. There was something in the interaction between the characters, something almost invisible but full of life, that he couldn't ignore. This moment, this fragment of folk music, felt like it was coming alive before his very eyes.

"Ethan?" a voice broke his concentration, and he turned to see Joel Cohen, who had been watching him curiously. "Are you still here?"

"This moment, this fragment of the folk song wave," Ethan replied, absorbed in his thoughts.

Joel blinked in confusion. "So?"

Ethan's excitement grew. "Joel, I think we need to leave more room for the actors in the editing and production phases. Let them tell the story. Especially Renly… Did you see the way Renly's eyes conveyed something deeper in that scene? I've just begun to catch a glimpse of it. We need to examine this more carefully."

Joel raised an eyebrow, still unsure. "Ethan, are you sure you know what you're doing?"

Ethan nodded firmly. "Of course."

A spark of inspiration lit within him. He realized that Drunken Country Ballad was poised to be something extraordinary.

In the grand history of cinema, the definition of what makes an actor truly "great" has always been a subject of debate. How do we categorize exceptional actors, and what makes them stand out?

For some directors, such as Alfred Hitchcock, a good actor is one who can hit their marks on cue—screaming when it's time to scream, fearing when it's time to fear, without straying from the director's vision. In Hitchcock's world, an actor's job is to serve the overall atmosphere and story without adding too much of their own interpretation.

For others, like William Wyler, a great actor is someone who can be molded into the character. Under the director's guidance, they are shaped into a role that allows the character to seamlessly merge with the story. In this view, acting is about telling a story, showing the true essence of a character.

Then there are directors like Paul Thomas Anderson, who see acting as an independent art form. They create the stage, but hand the performance over to the actor, allowing them to bring their own personality and style into the role. The director simply captures the raw emotions that arise from this collaboration.

Each director, screenwriter, and producer has their own criteria for selecting actors, and they all value different qualities in their performances.

Even actors like Meryl Streep and Daniel Day-Lewis, whose talents are universally celebrated, don't always win everyone's love or support. Professional opinions vary, after all.

But one thing is clear: some actors have the rare ability to breathe life into their characters, giving them a soul and vitality that resonates with the audience. They make the character—and, by extension, the story—feel alive. Their performances may not always be technically perfect, but the depth they bring is something extraordinary.

Heath Ledger, Marlon Brando, Edward Norton, River Phoenix—these actors were all brilliant, bringing an ineffable quality to their roles. And now, Renly Hall is in their company.

At least, that's how Ethan Cohen sees it.

Ethan isn't necessarily the most authoritative director, but when he reflects on Renly's performances in Crazy in Love, Transcendence, and Drunken Country Ballad, it's clear that Renly has a unique ability to shine without ever overshadowing the story. His talent infuses the characters with depth, making their performances both mesmerizing and essential to the narrative.

As Ethan replays the story of Drunken Country Ballad in his mind, he recalls how the script, initially light and unassuming, evolved as they filmed. It started as a snapshot of a particular era—an era they all loved—but as they delved deeper into the story, they realized that LeVern Davis was no longer just a character. He was becoming real.

LeVern, like Renly, had been shaped by the turbulent times of the 1960s—wounded, scarred, and weary. The weight of history pressed down on him, yet he remained afloat in a sea of chaos and confusion.

Ethan saw not just LeVern, but himself—a soul caught in the waves of folk music, a soul bruised and broken by the pain of the past, but still struggling to move forward in a world filled with obstacles.

And then he recalled the original words that had guided their creation: "It doesn't matter who you are. The important thing is that you're part of this wave of folk songs."

The creation of Drunken Country Ballad had been a journey for all involved, a constant exploration of deeper meanings and emotions. Through each day of filming, they became more and more intertwined with the very fabric of the 1960s, shaping the film into something that felt more real with each passing moment.

Ethan remembered how Justin Timberlake had once confided his concerns about his performance during the film's early stages. Justin, while playing a relatively minor role, had been worried about the gap between his performance and Renly's. He feared that his acting wouldn't measure up, or that he might drag the overall quality down.

The Coen brothers had reassured him, but Ethan now understood Justin's worry. They were all part of something much larger than just their individual performances. As he reflected on LeVern's character, Ethan understood why Justin had felt that way.

There was something magnetic about Renly's portrayal of LeVern—a quality that couldn't be replicated or even matched by most actors. And it was this quality that made Drunken Country Ballad more than just a film.

It was a raw, unpolished look at life itself.

LeVern Davis, with his struggles and dreams, lived in the 1960s, somewhere out there, in the midst of all the pain and beauty of the era. And perhaps, just perhaps, he was more real than any of them had realized.