The Greatest Showman - Chapter 1262: Hands-on

Damien had regained his composure. The earlier frenzy that had taken over him had subsided, and now, his voice was calmer as he explained his creative intentions. "I'm trying to show the self-absorption at the critical point of artistic perfection. To outsiders, it's madness; but for the artist, it's pure perfection."

As he spoke, Damien's eyes gleamed with intensity. The image of the humble, quiet man had completely disappeared, replaced by a fervor that Renly instantly recognized. It reminded him of Alfonso Cuarón—although their styles were worlds apart, one a music fanatic, the other a tech visionary—both shared a wild passion for their craft.

Renly had an epiphany: Was it something about his own nature that attracted such personalities? Damien Chazelle, Alfonso Cuarón, Tony Kaye, the Coen brothers—all of them exhibited a similar fervor, a singular obsession with their work that bordered on madness. He had always been drawn to people like this, but upon reflection, it seemed more likely that it was Renly's own eccentricities that attracted them. After all, it was through his work with Alfonso at the Almeida Theatre, his Grammy Award moments, and introductions from Woody Allen and the Coen brothers that he had connected with so many of these intense, passionate figures.

"Which came first," Renly mused, "the chicken or the egg?"

"Renly, what do you think?" Damien's voice quivered slightly with apprehension.

He was speaking to Renly, after all—the hottest actor in Hollywood at the moment, a figure out of reach for someone like Damien. The rumors about Renly, how he was moody and hard to approach, didn't help either.

Renly shook himself from his thoughts, a smile gradually appearing. "Yes, I agree." His voice was steady, sincere. "In some performances, I also lose myself completely. I forget about myself entirely and become fully absorbed in the character. The result is a performance that feels… different, transcendent."

He thought back to his experiences in films like Buried Alive, Crazy in Love, Anti-Cancer Me, and even his recent work in Gravity and Drunken Folk Ballads. The lines between reality and fantasy blurred in such performances, producing a feeling of confusion, of pain—but also something deeply beautiful. Words couldn't quite capture it, but the experience was all-encompassing.

Renly's voice softened, nostalgic. "To be honest, I miss the days before my first film. I had to play a character trapped in a coffin, so I spent eight hours inside one just to feel it." He chuckled, recalling the memory. "It might have been a silly way to approach it, but it worked. It helped me break free from the constraints of acting and really merge with the character." He shrugged, humor in his tone. "After all, when else do you get to experience what it's like to be buried alive?"

Damien shifted uncomfortably, tugging at his bow tie. He swallowed hard, trying to suppress a shudder at the thought of Renly in that coffin. Maybe the rumors about Renly being a vampire weren't as far-fetched as they seemed. He was starting to wonder if it was too late to run.

But then he remembered his project—he couldn't back down now. He had to press on.

"Renly," Damien started again, trying to steady his nerves. "What do you think about the work? Do you think anyone would be willing to invest?"

Renly, now fully engaged, answered without hesitation. "No problem."

Before he could continue, Damien's joy erupted uncontrollably. He jumped up, almost knocking over his chair. "Really? You're serious? Oh my God, thank you! Is this really happening?" He spun around, overwhelmed by the news. His fists clenched in triumph, and he let out a triumphant roar.

The long years of waiting, the doubts, the struggle—they all disappeared in that moment. Damien was ecstatic, caught in a whirlwind of emotion. But as the rush of excitement faded, a wave of self-consciousness hit. He rubbed his eyes, embarrassed by his over-the-top reaction. He chuckled awkwardly. "I'm sorry, I mean, thank you."

Renly smiled kindly, his chin tilting slightly. "I know exactly how that feels."

There was no judgment in Renly's tone—only understanding. He preferred Damien's raw enthusiasm. "Now that the tension has broken, we can talk about your needs."

Damien, still slightly flustered, sat down again, his posture straighter. "Well, what do you think? What production company or producer would you recommend I pass the script to?"

Renly nodded thoughtfully. "If I'm not familiar with someone, I can always reach out to Joel and Ethan for help."

"Cohen?" Damien asked, his voice cautious. Renly nodded. Damien blinked a few times, processing the confirmation, and then let out a relieved sigh. "Got it."

Renly continued, his tone firm yet encouraging. "For the budget, the cast, whatever you need, let me know. But remember, we must make requests upfront. If they disagree, it's not worth dragging things out. Be clear from the start."

Damien, still digesting the weight of the conversation, cleared his throat nervously. "Well, I haven't worked out a precise budget, but... I think... maybe three million?"

Renly gave no outward reaction—no smile, no frown—just silent observation. Damien shot a quick glance at him, wondering what he was thinking. At least Renly wasn't angry or dismissive, which Damien chose to take as a positive sign.

"I also want to be involved in post-production," Damien continued, gaining confidence now. "The first cut of the film should be mine, and I want a say in the final edits and changes."

Renly nodded, understanding the importance of maintaining creative control. Damien's decision was a testament to his commitment to his art. For new directors, securing the rights to the first and final cuts was no small feat. It was a way to protect the vision of the film, ensuring it wasn't compromised by outside interference.

Damien took a deep breath and glanced at Renly again. "As for the cast, honestly, I don't have many ideas yet. We haven't secured funding, so I haven't started looking. But..." His voice faltered slightly as his eyes met Renly's.

"If you would consider starring in this film," Damien's voice gained strength as he spoke, "it would be perfect. Your age and image—it's exactly what we need. You're the perfect embodiment of a college student. And more than that, you have the intensity and drive of the character. There's no one better for this role."

Damien's excitement was palpable now, and the vision of his film felt realer than ever. "You're an extraordinary actor. Truly, I don't think anyone else could embody the role the way you would. Plus, if you can play the drums... that would be the cherry on top."

His voice trailed off as he realized the enormity of what he was asking. Renly, with his status and acclaim, was out of his reach—how could an up-and-coming director like him ever afford such a talent? The impulse to ask seemed absurd now, and Damien fought the urge to bury his head in his hands.

But it was too late to take it back. The idea was out there, and now all he could do was wait for Renly's response.