The Greatest Showman #1350 - Full Score Debut

Michael sat quietly, holding his coffee cup. The bitter aroma lingered as warmth slowly disappeared from his eyes, blending into the misty air, finally melting into a contented smile at the corner of his lips.

By all logic, the article should have ended. It had a clear beginning, a cohesive central theme, and no need for further additions or alterations. But after a brief pause, thinking intently for a moment, Michael set the cup down, returned his hands to the keyboard, and decided to add one more paragraph.

Even if it risked disrupting the article's integrity.

"For this production, the Coen brothers made the perfect choice in casting Renly Hall as Le Verne Davey."

The film includes a scene where Le Verne watches a performance on stage. Amid the melodious music, a faint smile appears at the corner of his mouth. His gaze softens, the focus in his eyes disintegrates. After briefly lowering his guard, an expression of admiration emerges. It's fleeting but intense—then, almost instantly, it transforms into a quiet bitterness and sadness. His heart aches as if struggling to breathe.

In an instant, his eyelids fall, concealing all emotions.

In this brief moment, the camera delicately captures Le Verne's heartache: the performers are three figures in his life—one, a friend; the second, his friend's wife; and the third, a folk singer he met only the night before. He adores his friend's wife, envies the folk singer, and feels disdain toward his friend.

All these conflicting emotions are revealed in a single, fleeting shot.

Through a careful and nuanced performance, Hall brings Le Verne to life—his eyes spark with an energy that carries the weight of the entire film. Every ounce of the movie rests on his shoulders, and once again, he delivers a flawless performance.

What's more, Hall's portrayal delivers one of the most stirring and poignant live performances seen in modern cinema—a seamless blend of ballads and character, music and narrative, emotion and essence. It's captivating, almost dreamlike, leaving the audience unable to wake from its grasp.

Though somewhat unbelievable, it is unquestionably the finest performance of Hall's career.

Strange as it may seem, this is also the Coen brothers' finest work.

The film opens and closes with simple imagery: a light, a chair, a guitar. And as Le Verne softly hums, "Hang me, oh, hang me, I'll be soon in the world. I don't care about hanging, but a poor man, I don't want to be stuck in a grave forever. I've traveled all over the world."

Perhaps this encapsulates the essence of the movie.

With a final period placed, Michael paused, feeling a lingering thought that hadn't quite left his mind. But after a moment's reflection, he chose to let it be. His thoughts were still caught in the world of Inside Llewyn Davis, the movie's emotional weight impossible to shake off. The impact was simply too powerful.

After a brief hesitation, Michael added his score:

Four stars.

The scoring system used by major European film festivals is a full four-star scale. In other words, Michael's evaluation was a perfect score.

He knew his judgment wasn't entirely rational.

He should have been more objective, offered a more neutral critique. But the truth is, being a film critic is inherently subjective. Every review is colored by the critic's preferences—likes, dislikes, praises, and critiques are drawn from the heart.

Besides, the passion and impulse stirred by a movie are what define its essence, aren't they?

After settling on the score, Michael picked up his coffee and slowly sipped. He reread his manuscript, making final edits. Yet, the folk melodies still echoed in his mind, and the bitter taste of coffee seemed out of place. Perhaps a bottle of beer would've paired better.

Meanwhile, Empire magazine's film critic, Sean Levy, finished his manuscript in a bustling bar. With a beer in hand, he proofread amidst the noise. Luckily, today's review had come together effortlessly.

"It was a long and grand farewell."

Next to the title, Sean's four-star rating was clearly marked.

This, too, was a full-scoring review. And one from a professional outlet.

"Watching a Coen brothers' film is always an experience. Their dark humor, often a biting critique of society, life, and the world, comes through in their signature camera work, use of light and shadow, and unique editing style. Once again, they succeed in delivering a poignant and sorrowful masterpiece."

But this time, Sean believed, it was Renly Hall's movie.

The story unfolds in Greenwich Village, 1961, chronicling the life of a down-and-out folk singer. While the film isn't about Bob Dylan, it is about Dave Van Ronck.

Who is Dave Van Ronck?

Exactly. The moment this question arises in the viewer's mind, the Coen brothers' intention is clear: they've effectively conveyed their message. Dave Van Ronck was a largely unknown figure, much like the protagonist, LeVine Davies.

The story is full of possibilities. It spans a mere week in LeVine's life, weaving through broken dreams, fleeting hopes, and endless energy spent running in circles, only to end up back at square one.

The themes are multifaceted—ballads, life, dreams, art, the times, success, persistence, and choices. Every viewer will find their own interpretations, but for Sean, this is a story about a long farewell.

A farewell to family. A goodbye to love. A parting from friendship.

Goodbye to dreams. And perhaps, goodbye to the folk songs.

The film depicts Le Vern's short, desperate week of trying to pursue his dream of becoming a folk singer. He makes countless attempts, but they all end in failure. The plot is left for the audience to experience firsthand in the theater. But beneath the surface, the story reveals Le Vern's farewell to himself, and his ultimate reconciliation.

He strives to become an artist—one who tells stories through song, captivates audiences with his performances, and refines life with his art. With his talent, he could carve out a place for himself in the folk music scene.

For this idealized dream, he sacrifices family, abandons love, and struggles through harsh winters. His only companion is his former partner, who eventually cuts ties, leaving him to wander alone.

Le Vern remains determined, working tirelessly, fighting for his place.

But the winter in Greenwich Village never ends. Like a trapped beast, he thrashes about, searching for an escape that doesn't exist. Even when he attempts to return to ordinary life, reality presents barrier after barrier, leaving him bruised and lost.

Under the Coen brothers' direction, Renly Hall's performance is a moving ballad, a tender and poignant poem. His expressive eyes convey the life of a Greenwich Village folk singer—clad in thin autumn clothes, wandering through the cold streets, lost in thought.

The song "Farewell" appears throughout the film—at the start, a duet with his partner; in the middle, an expression of Le Vern's inner turmoil; and in the end, a solitary performance.

Perhaps he will leave Greenwich Village, becoming a sailor and never returning. Or perhaps he'll ultimately choose to say goodbye—to his family, to love, to dreams, and to folk songs.

Ultimately, he reconciles with himself.

It's a long, bittersweet farewell, but that's life. Everything is hidden in Hall's understated performance—so beautiful and mesmerizing, it stays with you long after the credits roll.

When Michael closed his eyes again, he was transported back to the Gaslight Cafe, watching the downcast singer in that beam of light, singing: "If I could spread my wings like Noah's dove, I'd cross the river in pursuit of true love. Farewell, my love, may you cherish."

At the heart of it all, this is a story about life's choices.

Once again, Renly Hall has delivered the performance of a lifetime, infusing the script with meaning and heart. Even the Coen brothers' strong control over the film can't overshadow Hall's brilliance—he is the highlight of the entire movie.

Sitting in the dark after the movie ends, Michael feels the aftertaste of its depth surge within him. His thoughts are consumed by the story, the character, and the life that Le Vern lived. This is undoubtedly the best work of 2013, and Hall's finest performance to date.

At the end, Le Vern stumbles down a dim alley, his eyes telling his story with quiet clarity. He has said goodbye.