The Greatest Showman - Malicious Speculation
Kerry, sitting to Renly's right, leaned toward the microphone and joked, "Actually, I don't mind. You can ignore me all you want and focus on the gentlemen. I'll just take it easy."
Not wanting to be left out, Justin, seated beside the Coen brothers, quipped, "If interviews were assigned based on the movie's weight, things might not be like this. Should we discuss this privately?"
Laughter rippled through the room, setting a lighthearted mood. But just as the press conference officially began, the atmosphere shifted abruptly with the first question:
"Renly, before today's press conference, there were rumors that you provided Americano coffee and towels for all the attending reporters. Some say it was a tactic to curry favor with the media. Is this true?"
Silence.
A long, awkward silence.
The entire room fell still, as if a series of ellipses floated overhead. No one had expected such a superficial and absurd question. Even the host hesitated, caught completely off guard.
Renly, however, remained composed. Adjusting the microphone, he replied with a casual air, "I wasn't aware this was even a question."
A sharp remark.
Any seasoned journalist would avoid such a trivial inquiry. Speculation about "pleasing the media" belonged online, not in a press conference. There was no real follow-up possible—Renly could simply deny it, and the matter would end there.
In other words, only inexperienced digital media personalities would ask such a thing. Their thinking mirrored social media discussions—sensational, but lacking substance. This approach, unprofessional and devoid of impact, failed to provoke meaningful discourse.
What might seem reasonable in the virtual world quickly became ridiculous in reality.
Renly's response made that clear.
Traditional journalists chuckled, while newer media figures remained oblivious to the underlying irony, failing to grasp the reactions around them—including the baffled expression of the questioner.
This moment exposed a fundamental downside of the digital age: while it democratized media, it also eroded the art of interviewing. Fast-paced, surface-level interactions replaced depth and professionalism.
Renly, unfazed, continued, "If my answer is yes, so what?"
Yes, so what?
Actors and public figures interacting with the media—is that so shocking?
It wasn't bribery. It wasn't manipulation. It was a simple gesture of kindness. Accepting it was a personal choice. So—so what?
The questioner, sensing an opportunity, hesitated briefly before pressing on, "Are you admitting to trying to please the media?"
Renly smiled, meeting the journalist's gaze. "And then?"
A meaningless question.
Renly had never been concerned with cynical speculation.
If someone disliked him, nothing he did would change their opinion. If someone admired him, even his flaws wouldn't matter. And if someone was indifferent, his actions were irrelevant to them.
He had no interest in justifying himself to reporters or defending his reputation. To him, even engaging in this discussion was a waste of time and energy.
The weight of his words left the journalist speechless. The excitement of catching Renly in a contradiction faded, replaced by a blank expression. He had no retort, no further argument to make.
Renly gave him no opportunity to recover. "Next question."
In the audience, Emily and Mark struggled to stifle their laughter. The exchange had been almost comical—three sentences and the so-called "tough question" had evaporated. Renly's effortless deflection was a masterclass in handling the press, leaving the journalist floundering in awkward silence.
Sensing the need to move on, the host quickly pointed to a reporter from Total Film, a reputable British film magazine known for its professionalism.
"Lord Renly," the journalist began with a smile, "do you have any plans to release an album soon? Perhaps you could give us an early heads-up this time. I think many people would be eager to buy it."
Renly grinned. "Justin Timberlake will be furious."
Laughter erupted across the room, instantly resetting the atmosphere.
Justin, sitting beside him, played along, crossing his arms in mock indignation, feigning annoyance.
With the mood restored, the reporter proceeded with a more substantial question. "First of all, I absolutely loved this film, especially your performance. I'd like to ask—did your experience recording Don Quixote influence your portrayal? Also, if you were in LeVine's shoes, what choice would you make? That final scene was absolutely heartbreaking—it might be your most moving performance since Like Crazy."
The journalist chuckled, "Sorry, that was a lot of questions."
Renly responded with an amused smile. "First, thank you for your support. And before I answer, I have an interesting tidbit that might be relevant."
He glanced at the Coen brothers, then continued, "Joel and Ethan approached me for this role after watching my performance at last year's Grammys."
Before Renly could elaborate, Joel interjected, "Correction—Renly was the inspiration for this entire film. After watching him perform 'The Beast,' we were so captivated that we started shaping the movie around that emotion. Then we listened to Don Quixote."
Joel continued animatedly, "At first, we even considered using Don Quixote as the soundtrack for the entire film, but we scrapped that idea. It was too personal, too close to Renly's real-life story—it would've felt like his biography. So, we turned to Dave Van Ronck for inspiration instead."
Renly sat back, letting Joel take over. The director continued, detailing the film's creative process and its connection to Renly's music. When he finally paused, he suddenly realized what had happened.
"Wait a second—why am I the one answering all the questions? Renly, you did that on purpose, didn't you?"
Renly shrugged innocently, offering a small, knowing smile.
Joel threw up his hands. "See? He is LeVine Davis."
Renly nodded. "I'll take that as a compliment."
Returning to the initial question, he answered thoughtfully, "Yes, Don Quixote influenced my performance. In fact, in real life, I've already made my choice—I pursued Buried Alive, released Don Quixote, and stayed true to my artistic instincts."
That's why Renly Hall was where he was today.
With that, the conference moved forward. Another journalist stood up, ready with a new question.
"First, congratulations—Drunk Town Ballad is phenomenal. My question is: given the film's subject matter and unconventional storytelling, why did you choose this project? Also, the film has received glowing reviews—how do you feel about that?"
All eyes turned to Renly, but he gestured toward the Coen brothers.
"Shouldn't the directors answer that? This is Cannes—I'm not the star here. They are."