The Greatest Showman #1400 - Historical Moment

The sixty-seventh annual Tony Awards had begun, with Neil Patrick Harris returning as host for the third consecutive year. A multi-talented actor who has already won both an Emmy and a Tony, Neil had long secured his place in Hollywood's competitive landscape.

But tonight, the pressure was immense. The success of the previous two years had set an extremely high bar for expectations, and living up to it would not be easy. Added to that was the overwhelming attention this year's ceremony was attracting, which was a lot for anyone to bear.

"I regret it," Neil joked during the opening performance. "When I saw the nomination list, I regretted it. God, what did I do wrong? I promise, I will try my best to make it up to you, but just this once, please let me get through this safely. But the scene on the red carpet today clearly proved I was overthinking."

His exaggerated expression made the audience laugh. "I know, no matter how I behave tonight, the focus won't be on me. Obviously, I've put myself in a difficult position. But... I'll still try. Are you willing to follow me?"

At a perfect transition, Neil began humming, seamlessly jumping into "Singing in the Rain" and transitioning into "Boots," officially kicking off the opening performance. Instantly, the atmosphere in Radio City Music Hall became lively. Neil's skills were unmistakable.

But, as Neil said, the focus that night would not remain on him, nor on the many other awards being presented. Even Boots, which had garnered thirteen nominations, took a backseat. The entire room's attention was centered on one thing: Best Actor in a Musical. Or, more specifically, on Renly.

No one could compare.

After the unveiling of the ceremony, the energy from the audience seemed absent—too noisy without enthusiasm, lacking the expected chemical reaction. Even the lively musical performances that followed felt flat.

Later, in an interview, Neil admitted, "I tried my best."

Following the ceremony, Neil formally announced his resignation as host, citing fatigue from hosting three consecutive years and the underwhelming response to his performance that night—perhaps a combination of both.

The energy in the room remained stagnant until Charlotte Martin took the stage. The mood shifted instantly, and the audience came to life. The tumultuous applause was evidence of the excitement she brought with her.

Charlotte, the president of the Broadway League, had stepped in to present the Best Actor in a Musical award after last year's winner, Steve Kazee, was unable to attend due to injury.

Without needing words to remind them, every guest sat up straighter, fully attentive. The change in energy was palpable—no more the mild interest that had pervaded the ceremony before. The tension, the curiosity, the anticipation surged immediately.

This was the real moment.

Charlotte, accustomed to the spotlight, joked, "Wow, who can tell me what happened? Why is everyone looking at me with such supportive and loving eyes?"

Her humor had the room in stitches, drawing a stark contrast to Neil's efforts to lighten the atmosphere earlier in the evening.

Neil, standing offstage with his arms spread wide in mock surrender, was left to remark, "I'm also very disappointed!"

Charlotte raised the envelope in her hands, and the weight of it was unmistakable. The eyes of every attendee were fixed on it, as though it were heavier than a thousand pounds.

Her fingers tightened unconsciously, and her tension was evident. She laughed nervously, breaking the moment with another joke. "As usual, I like to announce the winner directly. This is the Tony, not the Oscar."

The room laughed again, the lighthearted comment helping ease some of the tension.

"But backstage, everyone kept telling me that revealing the winner is an important task—maybe even a historical moment. So, I thought, maybe I should build a bit of suspense."

Charlotte paused, letting the silence build around her, then continued, "Broadway has regained its former glory this year. Pepin and Les Miserables have brought audiences back to theaters. Tom Hanks and Renly Hall have demonstrated the enduring appeal of stage actors. And of course, original hits like Boots and Lucky Man remind us that creativity is alive and well on Broadway. This has been a year to celebrate."

Her words, sincere but formal, filled the space with meaning. Then she stopped, looking at the audience with a playful grin. "You all thought I would mention that, didn't you?" she teased, and the audience responded with laughter.

"Well, I still have to mention it—it's part of my job," Charlotte continued. "This year, Broadway has produced a wealth of talented new actors, particularly in musicals. None of the five nominees for Best Actor in a Musical have ever won a Tony before, which means that tonight, one of them will make history."

Charlotte looked at the audience with a knowing smile before adding, "Before the ceremony, I had a conversation with Renly Hall, who was nominated for the first time. We talked about his experience on Broadway and the West End. He sees it as a learning process and has great respect for the performances in Boots, especially Billy Porter and Stark Sanders. Those performances can't be experienced on the big screen."

The crowd erupted into applause, full of support for the theater world they cherished. Charlotte joined in the applause for Renly, standing in the audience. "I sincerely hope that more young actors will join our ranks and appreciate the magic of live theater and performance."

The implications of her words were clear. Was she hinting at Renly as a figure who might inspire the next generation of performers?

But before anyone could overthink it, Charlotte continued, "Tom, I'm not targeting you."

Tom Hanks, also nominated that night, raised his hands in mock protest, and the room exploded in laughter.

Charlotte smiled and gestured for the crowd to settle. "I know, I know, I've kept you waiting for three minutes. The Tony Awards might as well be the Golden Globes by now. Let's get to the good part."

The atmosphere was now electric, the anticipation palpable. Neil, despite his earlier efforts, had been overshadowed by Charlotte's effortless charm.

Charlotte took a deep breath, her tone growing more serious. "The nominees for Best Actor in a Musical are: Billy Porter from Boots, Bertie Cavill from Matilda, Sandino Fontana from Cinderella, Stark Sanders from Boots, and Renly Hall from Les Miserables."

Each name was met with polite applause, but when Renly's name was spoken, the room erupted in an entirely different kind of energy—louder, more intense, more filled with expectation.

Charlotte didn't pause for effect; there was no need. The tension had already reached its peak. The heat of the moment was almost unbearable, the energy suffocating, as though the very air itself was charged with emotion.

"The winner of the 67th Tony Award for Best Actor in a Musical is…" Charlotte opened the envelope.

Her movements were swift and decisive, and the room held its collective breath. The tension in the air was so thick it almost felt like it could be cut with a knife.

Billy Porter was tense, Bertie Cavill swallowed nervously, Sandino Fontana tugged at his collar as if trying to breathe, and Stark Sanders couldn't move, frozen in place.

No one could move. Not even Renly.