The Greatest Showman - Chapter 1357: Comeback Movie
"But because of this, I found it incredibly difficult to focus on my performance. I even told Leo it was because he was too handsome," Kerry teased, eliciting chuckles from the press. "So, I'm not sure if my final performance is my best work, or if my admiration for Leo affected the integrity of the film. I feel a bit uneasy about it, but I did my best, and I hope the audience enjoys it. Even if it's not for me, at least they can admire Leo in peace."
"Oh, that's definitely a beautiful sight," Justin interjected, turning the chuckles into hearty laughter.
Kerry's eyes sparkled with amusement. "And working with Renly was a very special experience. Before joining the cast, I had doubts about myself. If an actor's performance isn't solid, it affects the director's vision. I questioned whether I could still be a good actress. So, I did have my hesitations."
She turned to Renly with a playful smile. "Can I share some behind-the-scenes details?"
Renly shrugged casually. "As long as it's not about me mistreating the staff, go ahead."
Laughter erupted throughout the room.
Kerry widened her eyes in mock surprise and quickly said, "See, this is the Renly you don't know!" Then she continued, "On set, Renly treated the script and his character with incredible seriousness. Sometimes, he would spend a long time analyzing just a single line or an entire page of dialogue. Levin Davis wasn't just a role; he was real."
"Every scene with Renly was a unique experience. We naturally slowed our pace, immersing ourselves fully into the story. It was truly an unforgettable experience," Kerry concluded.
There was a subtle difference in Kerry's words that didn't go unnoticed.
However, for Renly, comparisons held no meaning. Each actor and each collaboration were unique; side-by-side evaluations were neither fair nor necessary.
"Simply put, Justin is not a great actor," Renly quipped into the microphone, twisting Kerry's words into a playful jab.
"Hey!" Justin feigned outrage, prompting another wave of laughter.
The press conference became increasingly lively, with questions covering the Coen brothers, Justin and Garnett, Kerry, and, inevitably, Renly. Eventually, the discussion circled back to him.
"Congratulations," a reporter stood up, acknowledging Renly. "I mean, congratulations on the success of the film's premiere at Cannes, and also on winning your first Olivier Award."
The crowd murmured in agreement. This was one of the most anticipated topics at Cannes this year, and now the conversation had finally turned to it.
"There's no denying that you're an incredibly talented actor, but your career has also been remarkably fortunate. From television to film, to music, and now theater, you are just one step away from achieving EGOT status. What are your thoughts on that? Additionally, your performance in Drunken Country Ballads has been phenomenal. What are your expectations for the Cannes Film Festival awards?"
The reporter's words rang true.
Objectively, Renly had enjoyed remarkable success in recent years. From The Pacific to Transcendence, nearly every project he was involved in had gained critical acclaim and recognition. He had become the fastest-rising actor of his generation.
A faint smile appeared at the corner of Renly's mouth.
Perhaps this was the advantage of having lived two lives?
To the world, he was a young man under twenty-four; in reality, he was nearly fifty-six. Artistic peaks were often achieved between thirty-five and forty-five—by that standard, his timing wasn't all that premature.
Then again, being reborn was the ultimate stroke of luck, wasn't it?
"Thank God?" Renly quipped, his voice light with amusement. Blaming divine fortune seemed like the safest answer.
"But more than personal success, I hope the conversation remains focused on the work itself. Drunken Country Ballads is an exceptional film, and there's much to discuss about it. As for the awards, I'll leave that to the jury. I wouldn't want to express too much excitement and scare them away." His playful tone kept the mood light, and laughter rippled through the room.
But the journalists weren't so easily deterred.
"Renly, you haven't filmed in nearly four months. Do you have any upcoming projects planned?"
Joel, sitting beside him, rolled his eyes in exasperation. Renly couldn't help but chuckle. "During Cannes, I'm fully dedicated to the festival. That's my most important job right now. If no one has further questions about the film, perhaps we can end this press conference early?"
The room erupted in protest.
The final question went to Emily, a reporter who looked slightly nervous as she cleared her throat. "Hey, Renly. I have a question about the movie. To me, it's a film about goodbyes. Throughout the story, Levin constantly says farewell—to love, to family, to friendship, even to folk music itself. What's your take on that?"
Renly nodded thoughtfully, then turned to Joel and Ethan, silently offering them the opportunity to answer. Joel quickly waved his hands. "This is your question." His exaggerated reluctance drew a few chuckles.
Renly didn't hesitate. "In a sense, I agree with you. When Joel and Ethan conceived this film, they wanted to capture an era. Success wasn't the focus—being part of the folk movement was. When we look back at history, Levin is a part of it."
"But life itself is a long series of goodbyes—to childhood, to youth, to dreams, and eventually, to life itself. Along the way, we experience encounters, friendships, and partings. It's never easy, but it's inevitable."
The room fell silent as Renly spoke. His eyes gleamed with a quiet intensity, drawing everyone into the weight of his words.
"Levin is learning to say goodbye, but many people never do. Folk music has already become part of the past. And one day, today's era will become history as well. The question is—how will we remember it?"
Instead of offering an answer, Renly left the question hanging, allowing the audience to contemplate it.
Before Emily could sit down, she blurted out, "So what will you miss?"
Renly paused, considering. "I'll miss the Coen brothers. I'll miss George Slender, Stanley Charlesson, Heather Cross…"
"I'll miss the people who continue to dream and dedicate themselves to their art, both famous and unknown, giving their all. And, of course, I'll miss those who take the time to slow down and appreciate it."
His magnetic voice carried through the hall, and for a moment, the entire room was silent.
Outside, the soft patter of rain could be heard, wrapping the press conference in a quiet, almost poetic stillness. For a brief moment, Cannes felt like a sanctuary—an Atlantis where people still found joy in cinema.
Kerry hesitated, reluctant to break the mood. But after exchanging glances with Justin and Joel, she sighed and spoke into the microphone. "See? This is the Renly you don't know. He can be incredibly humorous—or incredibly dull. Please, don't be fooled by his appearance."
Her playful jab melted the solemnity, and the room filled with laughter once again.