The Greatest Showman #1508 - Congenial

"What? Paramecium? Hell!" Christopher was furious at Renly's accusation and blurted out in panic, "You're the first person to call my movie a paramecium! Damn it! Are you sure you're watching my film? My script?"

Despite Christopher's anger, Renly remained calm, his unhurried demeanor only adding to Christopher's frustration. The calmness in Renly's expression was infuriating.

"If I haven't watched your movies or read your scripts, and I can still understand all your core ideas clearly, then this is not a paramecium, what is it?" Renly's words landed like a pointed jab. His GPA in the "Death to Pay" course must have been impressive.

Renly sat back in his chair, his right leg crossed over his left knee, looking sharp in neat clothes. He sipped his mellow coffee with a smile, his forehead devoid of sweat.

In contrast, Christopher was a mess: his broad back sagging, his tennis shirt soaked with sweat, and dark patches staining his armpits and back.

"You... you're arguing!" Christopher stammered, caught off guard. He wasn't good at debating, and it showed. It was clear he wasn't used to being challenged like this, especially not by someone in Hollywood who would dare to speak to him this way.

But Christopher was relentless. "I'm not abandoning philosophical speculation, but there's no need to overcomplicate it! It's just too cumbersome!"

"Is it too cumbersome, or is it impossible?" Renly retorted, his words cutting through the tension. "Stanley Kubrick didn't pack a lot of lines into 2001: A Space Odyssey. In fact, he deliberately shortened the dialogue but conveyed philosophical speculation through the editing and the connection of images. That's what makes it not cumbersome, because the process of constructing those images is the process of philosophical speculation."

Christopher shot back, "How do you construct it?" His excitement and impatience had muddled his thoughts, his mind racing as he tried to keep up.

"I don't know," Renly answered simply. "I'm not the director, how would I know?"

"But you're not a screenwriter either, so why are you so passionate about this?" Christopher's persistence showed.

Renly shrugged. "Why not use flashbacks? For example, Cooper's mind could replay the image of Murphy running in front of him or her stepping into the red rain boots, over and over again. Or it could be the image of Murphy seriously drawing with a pencil—small details that become the key focus."

"For Murphy, she could experience the same thing—encountering a book, seeing a middle-aged man do something familiar, or feeling a sense of déjà vu at work. Or perhaps it's something small Cooper did in the five-dimensional space that gets imprinted on her mind, making her think of her father again. Those little moments can be powerful."

"Murphy's different from Cooper. Cooper's stuck in space, relying on flashbacks, but Murphy's still on Earth. Her life is full of associations and hints. Even Cooper's actions in five-dimensional space could create a butterfly effect for her."

"Through these two different montages, we convey the connection and responsibility of family. More importantly, the dislocation of time: Cooper's memory is always of Murphy's childhood, but by the time Murphy sees it, she's grown up, and in her eyes, she's seeing the images her father sent back from space."

"I mean, without messing up the plot's rhythm, without interfering with the film's commercial success, you amplify the power of time and deepen the emotional bond through the actors' performances. How you compose the images, what kind of spiritual reflections they reveal—that's the director's responsibility."

Renly spoke slowly, his tone measured and structured, always maintaining a rhythm that was easy to follow.

Christopher didn't interrupt this time. Instead, he listened carefully, considering the possibilities. He was clearly pondering how Renly's ideas might fit within the framework of his vision.

Objectively, the art of composition was not Christopher's strongest suit; however, his talent for imagination, spatial deconstruction, and understanding of temporal linearity were his real strengths. In this regard, Canadian director Denis Villeneuve was often seen as one of the most promising filmmakers of the modern era.

Villeneuve's 2010 film Scorched Earth City was a revelation, and in 2014, his collaborations with Jake Gyllenhaal in The Enemy and Prisoners brought him to new heights. His subsequent films—Arrival and Blade Runner 2049—cemented his reputation as a master of cinematic storytelling.

However, Villeneuve's weakness lay in rhythm control. His commitment to the poetic and thematic depth of the images often came at the expense of narrative flow, making his films difficult to access for a mainstream audience. This limitation was a problem Christopher didn't face.

Finding a balance between commercial appeal and artistic expression was one of the toughest challenges a director could face. Not everyone could find the key to successful creation, especially when balancing both sides.

Renly, an actor, was responsible for his own interpretation and perspective. But he knew firsthand that the director's job wasn't as easy as it seemed. Renly watched Christopher quietly, letting him wrestle with the thoughts, not interrupting.

Christopher's expression was a mixture of excitement and frustration. His mind seemed torn between his own thoughts and Renly's suggestions. His internal monologue was like a one-man show that provided an odd entertainment.

Finally, Christopher exhaled deeply. "No, this can't be done. Do you know how difficult it is to construct a shot? It's not just about depth of field and composition. Every character, every prop, every detail, all have to be considered. It's a huge project. If you just randomly throw in those memories, the entire thematic core will become cluttered."

"When we filmed Inception, Jonathan and I spent countless hours designing the totems for each character and planning the dream sequences. We wanted them to make sense, but we had to consider psychology, philosophy, history, culture, and so much more. It wasn't easy."

"I remember after the film was released, a critic claimed that Inception was just based on a whimsical idea, and that as a director, I leaned too heavily on the script and didn't let the shots convey the deeper meaning. I yelled at that critic in front of Emma at the time—I wasn't making Shakespeare, I was making a commercial film!"

"But now I get it a bit. You mean that you can convey the director's thoughts through the lens without altering the script or making things too complicated. Is that what you're saying?"

Christopher looked up at Renly, searching for confirmation.

Renly, with a grin, made a show of realizing the point. "Oh, were you talking to me? I thought you were talking to yourself for a moment…" Christopher rolled his eyes, but Renly didn't press the joke further. "Yes, that's exactly what I mean. I know it's a difficult and complex subject, but… Mr. Nolan."

"Chris."

"…Chris," Renly nodded after a pause, making the correction.

"I've always thought that the reason you took on Interstellar was to explore new ground in filmmaking, to push yourself as a director."

Renly paused, carefully choosing his words. "I've always believed that what makes a film a director's art isn't the script, the actors, or even the story—those are secondary. What's truly important are the images, the shots, the scheduling, the composition, the editing—those are where the artistry of direction lies."

Christopher didn't offer immediate agreement or disagreement. Instead, he chuckled lightly. "So, by your logic, Michael Bay is also a good director?"

"I personally enjoy Brave Island and Transformers," Renly replied honestly.

Christopher thought about it but found no easy rebuttal. While many criticized Michael Bay for relying on spectacle, no one could deny his skill at shot composition and action sequences.

Christopher laughed, a little dumbfounded, then nodded in agreement. He finally understood why people in the industry often said, "Renly is an actor with ideas."

Renly's insights into performance, characters, and core themes were unique. More importantly, his deep understanding of the role's relationship to the plot was invaluable to the overall integrity of the film. When actors and directors collaborate, that's when the real magic happens.

Christopher even believed that if Renly worked with a director like James Cameron—who was known for prioritizing visual effects over actors—he would still bring his unique flair to the role.

It was like with Degree and Passion 5.

"If you were to play Cooper, would you have any specific ideas?" Christopher asked for the first time that day.