The Greatest Showman #1517 – Opening Video

"Renly, you know you're an asshole, right?"

Arthur let out a dumb laugh, quietly complaining. It wasn't a reproachful tone, but one tinged with a sigh, the kind of sadness that speaks of the slow flow of time. As they sat face to face, it was clear that there was a sense of familial warmth between them, something that hadn't been felt in a long time—like when Renly and Edith were together.

If Edith had said that, Renly would have calmly replied, "Yes." But now, faced with Arthur, the teasing and complaints came surging.

Renly simply shrugged and said, "I think we're used to communicating with reason, not with soul-soothing advice."

His answer was blunt, devoid of warmth. "If you'd like, I could pretend to be a priest, listen to your confession, and tell you that no matter what you choose, God will love you."

Arthur's smile faded, his expression filled with a sense of hopelessness. His eyes, full of resentment, met Renly's gaze. Renly raised an eyebrow in amusement, his pride evident after successfully provoking Arthur, but he didn't push further.

After a short pause, Renly's smile softened, and he looked at Arthur seriously.

"We all make choices, Arthur. Some are small, some are big. But they're all the same in the end. There's no right or wrong—time can't be reversed, and decisions can't be undone."

"Have you ever thought about what would've happened if I hadn't made it? What if I just stayed on Broadway or on TV, a small-time actor or extra, coming back to London in disgrace? I've thought about it, I really have."

"I've been scared. But that fear didn't stop me from chasing my dream. Life is like that, isn't it? We fear the unknown, and sometimes that fear can change everything. But some unknowns? They're not worth fearing at all. The only certainty is that the unknown remains unknown until we face it."

"I don't know what you're afraid of, or how terrifying it is, but if you ask me, fear and regret only hold us back. They torment us, stopping us from moving forward."

It wasn't just Arthur. It was Renly, Heather, Edith, Elf, George, Elizabeth—everyone, really. Each person is responsible for the life they've chosen. Some people regret their decisions, others stand firm and move forward.

Character doesn't just shape decisions, though. It shapes our attitudes toward life once those decisions are made. It's not about making the "right" choice, it's about how you live with it afterward.

"I'm not your answer, Charlie," Renly said quietly. "Only you know the answer."

Charlie. Arthur hadn't heard his middle name in ages, and hearing it now felt strangely distant.

Arthur mulled over Renly's words. They were truths he already knew, but somehow hearing them from Renly made them feel different—heavier.

He hated talking to Renly like this, because Renly always cut to the heart of things, tearing off the mask with ruthless precision. But at the same time, he appreciated it because Renly knew just what to say—what felt blunt and simple to others, always felt perfectly right when it came from Renly.

"Sebastian, everyone knows the truth. Not everyone can act on it," Arthur said with a wry smile.

Renly nodded, acknowledging the truth. Wasn't that the case in his own life? Everyone has their own struggles, their own shackles.

"That's why you came to me, not to Elf," Renly said, as though stating the obvious.

As Renly had pointed out, Arthur had already made his choice deep down.

Arthur didn't respond. The appetizers were served, and he began to enjoy his salad in silence.

Renly followed suit, quietly enjoying his French snails. The table was mostly silent, save for the occasional clink of silverware, the faintest sound that seemed to speak volumes.

After finishing the appetizers, they were given a brief interlude—time before the main course arrived, designated by the restaurant for guests to talk and reflect. It was one of those rare moments in a meal when conversation was expected to take place.

"When are you leaving for Venice?" Arthur asked, his voice less heavy now. The earlier sadness seemed to have passed, and some new understanding had settled in.

"Next week," Renly replied, distancing himself again. There was an odd sense of alienation now, though it wasn't unfamiliar. In the end, they were more familiar with each other than strangers could be.

Arthur raised an eyebrow in realization. "I heard your film will be the opening at the Venice Film Festival, but it won't be in the main competition. So you'll be arriving early, right?"

Renly confirmed, "Yes. Venice wants us to compete in the main section, but Warner Bros. doesn't. They're worried about how it might affect box office sales."

There was an understanding in the industry that the three major European film festivals—Berlin, Cannes, and Venice—were platforms for artistic films. Even Cannes, with its commercial flair, adhered to that idea. If a film won at one of these festivals, it could propel a movie into the awards season.

However, the commercial side of things often clashed with the artistic side.

For example, Warner Bros. had positioned The Great Gatsby as an "artistic commercial film." The art was just a prefix—business came first. That's why it was chosen as the opening film at Cannes, but it wasn't part of the main competition. The exposure helped the film, but it didn't muddy the commercial waters.

The Venice Film Festival had similar practices. They often used popular films to open the festival, without putting them in the main competition, to generate buzz.

Renly's film, Gravity, had been expected to join the main competition, but Warner Bros. refused. The film was seen as a commercial endeavor, not an art piece, and the studio wasn't willing to risk its box office performance.

Arthur sensed there was more to the situation, but didn't press it. Some decisions, Renly knew, had to be made on his own.