The Greatest Showman #1374 – Can't HD

EGOT? Movie King Grand Slam?

Renly is, after all, just an ordinary person. How could he not want it? How could he remain indifferent? How could he avoid feeling heartbroken? How could he detach himself from it all? How could he disregard his desires?

It could be said that he is vulgar, superficial, not pure enough, or that he's still not refined. But the truth is, deep inside, just the thought of achieving EGOT or a Grand Slam for Best Actor makes his blood surge with excitement. Every cell in his body begins to cheer.

It's about fame and profit—not fame or profit alone.

In life, everyone seeks to prove they once existed, to leave traces behind in this world. Even when they're gone, their names should live on in the memories of others, passed on through generations, marking the passage of time. It's about leaving a footprint in history.

This theme comes up in a conversation in The Pops, when a friend of Andrew's father comes to visit with his two sons: one a star football player, the other a scholarship recipient and representative of the school's Model United Nations—both envied for their worldly success. Andrew, the ordinary drummer, felt like a mere shadow in their eyes.

They start discussing the meaning of success, and Andrew offers an unexpected reply:

"I'd rather burn out by 34, be the talk of the dinner table, than live to 90, rich but forgotten."

They were discussing Charlie Parker, the legendary jazz saxophonist, whose obsession with music led him to drop out of school at 14. In some ways, Parker was Andrew's role model and goal.

Yet, most people view such a dream as a one-in-ten-thousand shot, seeing it as an excuse for avoiding real work.

This reveals two different philosophies of life:

Some people seek peace and stability, aiming to leave quietly when death arrives—living a life of quiet fulfillment. Others aim to leave a vibrant mark on the world, proving they once existed by leaving something meaningful behind.

For most artists, it's the latter.

No one wants to be forgotten in the depths of history; everyone hopes their work, their name, and their contributions to art will live on, adding to the collective spiritual and artistic heritage of society.

It's often said that artists are narcissistic—and it's true. Renly is no exception.

If Renly could achieve EGOT, if he could claim the Grand Slam for Best Actor, he wouldn't act as if it meant nothing. On the contrary, it would be the most significant recognition of his persistence, hard work, dedication, and dreams. It would mark his place in history.

Perhaps, one day, like Woody Allen or Jean-Luc Godard, Renly may reach a point where he is no longer troubled by worldly pursuits, embracing the artistic process for the sake of pure creation. But for now, he is still deeply immersed in the pursuit of recognition and achievement.

From the Olivier Awards to the Cannes Film Festival, the constant buzz of discussion around him stirred Renly's restlessness, despite his efforts to remain focused on his craft.

At his core, Renly remains human—imperfect and impetuous—far from the detached, aloof figure he might have imagined. He knew it was nearly impossible to completely free his mind. Even with two lifetimes' worth of experience, this moment was unprecedented, and he needed to stay grounded, humble, and focus on his work.

He couldn't wait to return to New York and throw himself into preparing for Boom Drummer. His restlessness would be channeled into his performance as Andrew, reflecting his current emotional state. The character had become more real and relevant to him than ever before, potentially offering a breakthrough for his performance.

For journalists and industry insiders, Boom Drummer was significant. And for Renly, it was equally important—just for different reasons.

This marked Renly's first return to the set after a long break, and his mindset and state would need re-adjusting. During this period, his emotions were particularly unsettled, and external distractions—like media attention—were bound to affect his work.

This could either hinder or benefit him, depending on how he managed it.

...

By the end of May in New York, the city's early summer atmosphere was palpable. The golden sunlight slanted through the towering buildings, casting long shadows on the gray streets. Green shoots broke through the cold morning air, and a warm breeze carried away the last traces of winter.

Renly sped through the alleys of Greenwich Village on his skateboard, the wind lifting the hem of his shirt. The world felt alive with the hustle of the streets, the sunlight dancing on his fingertips. Everything, even the cool breeze, felt exhilarating.

But then, Renly skidded to a halt, looking up at the red-brick buildings, feeling a deep confusion.

"Where the hell am I?" he thought.

Despite having lived in Greenwich Village for years, Renly felt completely disoriented. Even though he'd spent countless hours in these streets, today they felt unfamiliar.

He had been walking for twenty minutes, unable to find his destination. His once confident steps had turned into uncertain circles. The place he thought he knew so well now seemed like a maze.

Today was Renly's first drum lesson.

To prepare for Boom Drummer, Renly had to learn to play the drums—a skill he had never attempted before. Unlike other roles where he had undergone physical transformations or honed a specific skill for a role, learning the drums was something entirely new for him.

Though film editing techniques could create the illusion of proficiency, Renly believed in learning the skill for real. He knew he didn't need to be a master drummer, but he aimed to be competent—above 80%, at least.

It wasn't going to be easy.

Time was a major issue—Renly had limited practice before filming started—but even bigger than that was the fact that he couldn't seem to find the practice room or his instructor.

Where the hell was he?

"Hey... Renly?"

A hesitant voice broke through his thoughts. Renly turned to see a man with a messy beard and dreadlocks, his face a blend of age and dishevelment. His clothes, a faded gray T-shirt and navy overalls, suggested he'd recently woken up and hadn't had time to clean up.

Renly smiled politely and nodded.

The man chuckled and said, "It's me, Johnson-Clark. I think we have an interview scheduled today."

Johnson-Clark was Renly's drum kit coach.