The Greatest Showman #1336 - Collective Dispatch

"Is this Toronto?"

This is the funniest joke Emily has heard since its debut at this year's Cannes Film Festival.

She's not the only one who finds it amusing. A large group of reporters burst into laughter, and the previously tense atmosphere lightened slightly. But even as the laughter died down, the middle-aged man with the white press card didn't stop. He quickly made his way into the movie palace, eager to grab a seat before the show started.

At that moment, Emily realized that the holder of the white press card didn't need to arrive early. Yet, the man still came ahead of the red carpet event, showing that he was prepared for the grand occasion. Looking around, it was clear that he'd made the right choice.

Finally, the red carpet began.

Emily walked slowly, following her team, her eyes catching glimpses of the hot golden spotlights. One after another, top-tier celebrities appeared. The sheer magnitude of it all was dizzying—at first exciting, but soon, the overwhelming atmosphere dulled her initial enthusiasm. She anxiously scanned the progress of the team but saw no signs of it moving faster.

Suddenly, the beginning of the red carpet was agitated—like the roar of a low-flying jet. A hum vibrated in the air, building in intensity before erupting into sharp screams and roars that cascaded down like mercury spilling onto the ground. The waves of excitement drowned the crowd, leaving no time for reaction.

Justin Timberlake?

Emily turned her head, but quickly dismissed the thought. She could clearly see the distorted heat waves in the air. The faces, the expressions, the shouts, and the roars all vanished. In the midst of the chaos, only the vibrant, fiery red carpet remained, swallowing everything around it.

"Renly-Hall."

That was the only thought in Emily's mind. She couldn't imagine anyone else but Renly receiving such treatment—not even Leonardo.

Emily stood on tiptoe, maneuvering through the crowd and railings, searching for Renly along the red carpet. While she wasn't necessarily a fan, she couldn't help but be curious about the young man who had caused the "Renly Storm" over the past few years.

But finding him wasn't easy.

The red carpet was crowded with stars—Steven Spielberg, Ryan Gosling, Nicole Kidman, Carey Mulligan, Emma Watson, and many others. They were either giving interviews, posing for photos, or interacting with fans, taking their time to enjoy the event.

Additionally, behind-the-scenes film staff, marketing teams, special guests, and security personnel were all scattered across the narrow space, making it feel even more congested. It was visually chaotic, with at least thirty people packed into a small area.

Finding a specific person in that crowd, even someone as "radiant" as Renly, was a challenge.

Subconsciously, Emily's gaze drifted. She didn't realize it at first, but her eyes slowly moved toward a corner of the red carpet, and there he was—Renly.

He was right there, close at hand.

Emily was startled, and before she could stop herself, she blurted out, "Ah!"

Her shout cut through the noise, and the attention of those around her immediately shifted, including Renly's.

In an instant, Emily found herself the center of attention.

Quickly, she covered her mouth, her eyes wide with embarrassment as she silently apologized. She only now realized that there were only two railings between her and Renly, but he wasn't there for her. He was focused on the small group of fans gathered in front of him.

Renly had been engaging warmly with his fans.

After what felt like an eternity, Emily reflected on the moment. Renly had a quiet, magnetic presence—not flashy, not overwhelming, just something about him that made everyone pay attention. It wasn't until she accidentally locked eyes with him that she blurted out her exclamation.

"Sorry." Emily's face flushed, and she apologized repeatedly.

She could feel Renly's gaze on her, noticing her small stature in the crowd. Despite being surrounded by tall figures, she felt strangely small. Yet, in that instant, the surrounding reporters parted, creating a small space for her, making it easier to breathe.

"I hope my presence didn't scare you." Renly said with a light-hearted smile.

The surrounding reporters chuckled.

"No, no, of course not." Emily shook her head vigorously. "I'm just... I'm just..." She paused, realizing she couldn't tell the truth without sounding rude. In the end, she settled for, "I'm just really tired. You know, welcome to Cannes."

Emily tried to keep her tone lighthearted.

"But that's the charm of film festivals, isn't it?" Renly remarked, his gaze turning toward the audience beside him. His eyes brightened with enthusiasm. "I've watched a few films in the past few days, and they've been interesting. But for now, I'm most excited for 'Venus in Fur' tomorrow."

Emily blurted out, "And what about your favorite?"

She didn't expect an answer from Renly, but to her surprise, he responded instantly.

"'Fruitvale Station,'" Renly said without hesitation. "In the main competition, 'Adele's Life.'"

"Do you feel the same? Me too!" Emily exclaimed, her eyes lighting up. "Yesterday, I had an argument with a reporter at the movie palace over 'Adele's Life.' He thought it was meaningless and shallow. I couldn't believe it!"

"American reporter?" Renly asked, raising an eyebrow.

Emily didn't answer, but the expression on her face gave it away—Renly had guessed right.

Renly chuckled, "American journalists just don't get the subtlety and depth of 'Adele's Life.' It reflects the confusion and myths of the European middle class. It's not the same as American cinema. Of course, 'Fruitvale Station' is a different story—European journalists likely feel it's too shallow, lacking depth and nuance."

"Hey, Renly, don't talk like that!" Emily laughed. "I love 'Fruitvale Station' too!"

"Wait, I didn't say 'Adele's Life' was bad," Renly teased. "It's just not my top pick."

"What? What did you just say?" Laughter and chatter erupted from the surrounding reporters. A spontaneous debate ensued, with everyone eager to share their opinions. Emily and Renly's conversation was just one voice in the growing sea of discussion.

Renly grinned and said, "This is my favorite part."

After watching a film, taking time to reflect, and forming a personal opinion, there's something magical about passionately defending it—not to make others like it, but to have them appreciate your perspective and recognize your own aesthetic understanding of cinema.

This is what makes film festivals special. From Sundance to Telluride, from Toronto to Berlin—it's always the same.

Before Emily could reply, she noticed Renly subtly gesturing forward. "Hey, I hate to interrupt, but the team is moving forward. We can't stay here forever, can we?"

The reporters snapped back to reality, realizing that the group had already moved on about 20 meters. Without missing a beat, everyone hurried to catch up.

Emily joined the group.

As she moved, she glanced back for one final look at Renly. All she saw was his back, and she couldn't help but smile brightly. "That was also my favorite part."

Emily understood now why Renly was so beloved in Berlin and Sundance. Earlier this year, he had missed both festivals, but his popularity there had not waned. Conversations about him could be heard at every corner of the theater.

"Ahhh!"

"Ahhh!"

The crowds screamed in a frenzy, their excitement reaching a fever pitch, teetering on the edge of losing control. It was overwhelming, yet there was something contagious about the energy, pulling you in.

But Emily continued to follow her team, heading into the Cinema Palace and toward Lumiere Hall. Her anticipation for Drunken Country Ballads was growing, and she couldn't wait to see what this film would bring.

On the red carpet, the frenzy was just beginning.