The Greatest Showman - Chapter 1475: Perseverance
A faint murmur rippled through Alice Tully Hall. Though the scene itself was set in Carnegie Hall, securing that prestigious venue required booking a year in advance—a logistical nightmare. Instead, the production team opted for Juilliard's Alice Tully Hall, a worthy stand-in.
Around them, extras and crew members exchanged hushed thoughts. Something about the scene carried a palpable tension, a force straining to break free but never quite succeeding. No one could pinpoint the missing piece, fueling an animated discussion that grew in intensity.
This was the fourth playback.
They focused on a thirty-second segment, replaying it from different angles, dissecting its nuances.
Directors and actors process a scene differently. A director envisions the final cut—piecing together angles, lighting, and movement in their mind. Actors, however, exist within the moment, feeling the tension without always seeing the broader context. This disconnect often creates gaps in interpretation.
Simmons, furrowing his brow, was lost in thought. The puzzle before him deepened, each replay adding more layers instead of clarity. Damien, too, gnawed at his lip absentmindedly, his mind racing through possibilities. What was missing?
"Play it again," Renly finally said, his gaze fixed on the screen.
Had he found it? Both Damien and Simmons snapped their eyes to Renly, but he remained focused, brows furrowed in concentration.
"Wait for my cue."
The scene played again: Fletcher's command ended, but Andrew kept drumming. Fletcher approached, questioning his defiance. Andrew responded, and then—
Renly leaned in. He watched Fletcher hesitate before stepping back, repositioning himself behind the conductor's stand, waiting for Andrew's lead.
He studied this moment three times before finally speaking. "Do you see it?"
"What?" Simmons asked, baffled.
Renly sighed. "Fletcher gives up too quickly."
Simmons frowned, still not comprehending. Damien, however, remained silent, absorbing the thought.
"Think about who Fletcher is," Renly continued. "Absolute power. Absolute dominance. Absolute authority. He doesn't allow anyone to challenge him—not even if they meet his standards. He believes he's searching for the next Charlie Parker, but until that person proves themselves beyond doubt, he remains king."
"But... what if Andrew is the next Charlie Parker?" Simmons ventured. "Maybe Fletcher sees that potential in him and steps back, letting him take control."
"Yes, that's the arc," Renly agreed. "But it happens too fast."
He leaned forward, explaining further. "Imagine a king who's ruled for decades. He knows his time is limited—he must eventually relinquish his throne. On one hand, he hopes for a worthy successor. On the other, he fears being overshadowed. In that situation, what does he do?"
"He suppresses the successor," Simmons answered immediately. "Even if it's in the name of 'testing' them, he asserts dominance. He makes sure no one forgets his power. He doesn't step down until he has no other choice."
Renly nodded. "Exactly. If the heir isn't strong enough, they break. But if they are, they bide their time, accumulate strength, and—"
"Overthrow the king," Simmons whispered, realization dawning. "Murder the father."
Renly smiled slightly.
On the first day of shooting, Renly and Damien had deeply analyzed the film's core themes. They hadn't spelled it out for Simmons, but rather let the story unfold naturally, allowing him to feel the shift in power dynamics. They had planted a seed, waiting for it to take root.
Judging by Simmons's reaction, the moment had arrived—but his performance still lacked that final edge.
Simmons was a gifted actor, but his brilliance in Whiplash stemmed largely from the character's innate presence. His portrayal was chilling, but he wasn't fully shaping Fletcher's arc—he was responding to what was already on the page. His ability to craft a role from the ground up was still developing.
His post-Whiplash career reflected this. Despite appearing in numerous films, he hadn't caused significant waves. He remained a staple Hollywood supporting actor, his performances solid but rarely transformative.
Of course, some of that came down to Renly's own performance. Whiplash relied heavily on nonverbal storytelling—Andrew's journey was told through music, limiting direct interactions. The camera captured every minute detail, but Simmons lacked that feedback in real time, making it harder to react dynamically.
Now, after Renly's insight, Simmons's eyes lit up. The missing puzzle piece had fallen into place, revealing the full picture.
Renly pressed on. "So, what would the king do?"
Even if he knew the inevitable, even if he recognized greatness in his successor, he wouldn't immediately concede. He would fight. He would resist. Even in his final moments of power, he wouldn't go quietly.
Fletcher, before relinquishing control, would still embody the king he had always been.
And in this performance, he surrendered too soon.
Fletcher had spent the entire film breaking Andrew down, pushing him to the brink. This final sequence was his trap, his last attempt to destroy him. But when Andrew suddenly turned the tables, becoming the master, Fletcher needed to resist—one last moment of struggle before acknowledging defeat.
That subtle resistance was the missing ingredient. Renly's transformation was seamless—he fully embodied Andrew's metamorphosis. He completed the murder of the father. But without Fletcher's hesitation, the scene lost its final punch.
Simmons, now fully engaged, posed the crucial question. "When exactly should I give up? If the emotional shift is too rapid, it disrupts the rhythm. But if I linger too long, it drags. How do I strike the balance?"
Simmons might not be a genius, but he was undeniably the right actor for Fletcher. His instincts were sharp, his understanding of the character profound. Now, he faced the ultimate test—executing that shift in mere seconds. Too much, and it felt forced. Too little, and it lost impact.
Damien, watching from the outside, finally weighed in. "Look at Renly's performance. His buildup is layered, subtle. He guides the scene bit by bit. You can feel Andrew's transformation before it fully materializes."
He turned to Simmons. "At the start, Fletcher still wants to suppress him. But as Andrew grows stronger, Fletcher's authority erodes. He's reluctant—until the moment he has no choice but to yield."
Simmons absorbed this, then suddenly, clarity struck. "I get it!"
Filming resumed.
This time, something clicked. The power shift unfolded with perfect timing. Fletcher fought, resisted, hesitated—before finally, inevitably, surrendering.
A king, defeated.