The Greatest Showman #1348 - Collective Mania

At the entrance of the Lumière Hall, Renly stepped out slowly, surrounded by Leonardo DiCaprio, Ryan Gosling, James Franco, and several other actors. Clearly, after the screening, Renly had become one of the most sought-after figures in the industry.

Without a doubt, this year's Cannes Film Festival was dominated by these actors. Any one of them alone could have sparked a frenzy, but together, their presence seemed to create a shockwave of excitement—like the roar of a mountain or the tsunami of cheers.

But Emily couldn't take her eyes off Renly.

Tonight marked the global premiere of The Ballad of Drunken Township, and everyone was dressed to impress, including Renly. Yet, his ensemble reflected a subtle arrogance and critique of traditional glamour. His outfit consisted of a light blue, vertical-striped, collarless shirt—eschewing both ties and bow ties—paired with a sky-blue blazer and dark blue trousers, finished with casual light sailing shoes. There was simplicity in the formality and casualness in the seriousness, rejecting the usual black-and-white in favor of a low-key, melancholic blue. His entire presence exuded an air of quiet, reflective elegance.

In Emily's mind, she could almost imagine Le Verne Davis—Renly's character—dressing similarly for an awards ceremony or music event.

Leonardo stood to Renly's left, while Ryan and James flanked him on the right. Each of the other actors was impeccably dressed in suits and leather shoes, but Renly's attire felt slightly out of place. It almost seemed as if he were a down-and-out artist who had stumbled into Cannes. Yet, the aura of his presence easily overshadowed the others. All the attention, all the focus, was on Renly.

Emily wasn't sure if it was because she had just watched Drunken Country Ballads or if it was simply a psychological effect, but her gaze kept returning to Renly. There was an undeniable urge to talk to him, to connect.

Outside, a swarm of media personnel and fans were waiting, eager to catch a glimpse of the stars. As expected, Leonardo and James greeted some people and moved on, leaving only Ryan by Renly's side. It was a small detail, but it spoke volumes about the dynamics of their friendship.

Emily moved quickly, attempting to join the crowd. However, in the chaotic mix of voices and questions, finding an opportunity to speak was challenging. Just as she was about to give up, a small sound broke through the noise, instantly silencing the room.

"Renly, may I ask, was the inspiration for this movie about Heather Cross?"

Emily couldn't help but hold her breath, her heart pounding in her chest.

Though she wasn't a huge fan of Renly, she was well aware of the Ice Bucket Challenge story. From one perspective, her question was insightful, drawing a connection between Renly's film and Heather. From another, it could easily be seen as a provocative attempt to garner attention, perhaps even inappropriate.

But how would Renly respond? What would he say?

Everyone held their breath, awaiting his reply.

Renly, ever composed, smiled gently. His expression revealed no surprise or discomfort, merely calm acceptance. "Joel and Ethan were inspired by folk songs. For me, the inspiration during my performance came from dreams and the people and experiences that cross your path while chasing them."

His answer wasn't direct, but it carried enough depth for the audience to interpret in their own way. Drunken Country Ballads was a mirror of an era, reflecting different projections depending on the viewer's perspective, experience, and background. The beauty of the film lay in its personal resonance with each individual.

The crowd fell silent for a brief moment, the only sound the soft rustling of snow outside the window. Emily, still caught up in the moment, found herself lost in thought.

After a pause, Renly nodded politely. "I must head off for the next event. I hope to see you at the press conference tomorrow."

The crowd parted, allowing Renly and Ryan to walk away. Emily, suddenly aware of her own presence, instinctively called out, "Renly, thank you."

The two actors paused and turned. Their eyes met with a puzzled look.

Her mind went blank, but she found herself speaking without thinking, "Thank you for being an actor."

Renly stood bathed in backlight, his features partly shadowed. He paused for a moment before his lips curled into a faint smile. "My pleasure," he said softly.

He turned and walked away, Ryan by his side.

Emily stood frozen, a smile spreading across her face as the bustling noise of the crowd resumed around her. The excitement and chatter about the evening's events quickly returned, filling the air with a palpable energy. In a city known for its stars, tonight had been unforgettable.

The screening of Drunken Country Ballads had come to an end, but its impact would last long into the night.

Later, in every corner of Cannes, media workers and film critics worked tirelessly, drafting reviews and articles. The most celebrated films received praise, while others awaited their turn in the competition.

Michael Phillips, a film critic for The Hollywood Reporter, was among those absorbed in the whirlwind of activity.

At one point, Michael realized he had no love for covering film festivals—not Cannes, not any of them. Watching forty films in twelve days, conducting endless interviews, attending countless parties, and writing up to thirty manuscripts was draining. As a younger man, he had thrown himself into this grind, barely sleeping, leaving Venice after twelve grueling days with the sensation of floating on clouds. It was a test of endurance, but Michael had never truly enjoyed it.

Though he had risen to prominence as an exclusive film critic, he had yet to feel excitement from the chaotic film festival world. The glamour of stars and social events had begun to overshadow the essence of cinema itself. Traveling to Europe from Los Angeles only made him feel more disconnected from the joy he once found in film.

But after watching Drunken Country Ballads, something had shifted in him. The film reminded Michael why he loved movies—why he kept returning to film festivals, despite the exhaustion. When he witnessed a masterpiece, the feeling of satisfaction was incomparable.

Yet, the film also reminded him of the pressures of the industry, how even great films were often compromised by the harsh realities of the business.

In that moment, he almost felt like Le Verne Davis, wandering through Cannes, lost in thought, trying to recapture the initial thrill of cinema. Even in quiet corners, like an official review of an old Indian film, Michael found a flicker of hope for the future of cinema.

Despite the frenetic pace of the festival, it was moments like these—away from the red carpet—that reminded him why he had chosen this path in the first place. The joy of experiencing film in its purest form, without the distractions of fame and fortune, was what truly mattered.